I was brought up by a dad that loves me. ❤
And he also loves guns. 🔫 Big ones. Small ones. Pistols. Rifles. Shotguns. He has collected them all. He has shelves he had made to show them off to those who visited. And while he was telling you about them, he would offer you a drink. It was his wall.
As long as I can remember he hit every gun show this side of the Mississippi. The go to gift for my dad every year was the Shooter’s Bible. He’d spend hours with his nose in that world’s bestselling firearm’s reference. It would keep him busy ’til spring.
My dad gave me and my girls our first cars and our first guns, and he taught me and my daughters how to shoot.
But I hate guns.
I have never had any desire to shoot one let alone own one. I’m very girly that way. Bring on the Barbies any day. But not the Cowboys and Indians. Except for the horses. I LOVE their horses! And I do love shoes. That would be my collection.👠👡👢👟
It’s not necessarily that I’m afraid of guns, although I do carry a great respect for a piece of metal that can take lives in a split second if put in the rght or wrong hands. I just know I don’t ever want one in my hands. I don’t want to make that call to take another person’s life. It’s the ultimate commandment to me. That’s God’s calI, not mine. I don’t want to ever be in that position.
I’m weak. The gun could be taken away from me in a heart beat and used against me or those I would more than likely be protecting.
I don’t really even like meat. I have no desire to hunt.
I am too big of a softy to see anything hurt or dying. I’d be much more comfortable trying to talk someone out of doing harm than shooting them.
I’m sad to say, in my 57 years, I’ve never really talked to my dad about his guns. As much as I know he loves them, they just aren’t for me. Until yesterday morning.
My husband had already left for the day, and my dad and I had just eaten a leisure breakfast together. We were walking through the house, talking about the plans to remodel. We stopped at his gunshelves. He shared with me what he had left and what they were and why he had kept them. He explained to me the different kinds of firearms, and how they work. The wall that housed the gunshelves would soon be coming down. To open up the den to the kitchen. And it housed not only his guns but also his bar.
The irony is those were his two best friends for many years. Especially since my mom has died. Guns and alcohol. Many a man’s way of life.
Walk in his room at any given moment and you’ll see what I mean. The western channel is his go to 24 hours a day. You’d think The Duke lives here you hear his voice so often in my house. Not to mention the gunfights always coming out of his room. I’d probably not be alarmed if there actually WAS one in my home, I’m so immuned to hearing them. And where there’s guns, there are usually saloons. Some things don’t change much. That still holds pretty true.
I learned a little yesterday about guns. The difference between a rifle and shotgun. A single barrel and double barrel and how they fire. But most of all, I learned about my dad. That he’s ready to let go of his wall of fame to let a new sheriff ride into town. And take his place. Taking care of his only daughter. His little girl. He’s welcoming a new open floor plan to the house he built many years ago. Another of his pride and joys.
No matter what I may have ever said, he’s still a pretty cool guy. He’s always had a gentle way of offering advice the few times he ever gave it. And he’s still got it.
My advice to you today is to listen. To your elders. Give them the gift of your time. It’s something they’ve got plenty of! And we don’t. They are wiser than we give them credit. Listen and learn to what they have to say. While you can. And give them your love. You may not have that opportunity forever.
And to my dad, I say, thanks for that little talk, Daddy. I’ll always be your little girl. First. ❤ Just don’t expect me to ever like to shoot guns. Ride horses, yes! But never shoot guns!
You shall not murder. Exodus 20:13
Love and laughter,