You know, it’s amazing how things change. People have always had access to firearms, more so than they do now as a matter of fact. I have several handguns and people scream about that constantly.

The problem is that I have had handguns since I was 16 years old. That was a .22 Long Rifle caliber pistol. My first centerfire handgun came a year later at age 17 in the form of a really pretty nickled .357 magnum. Despite what anyone says I couldn’t buy it or factory ammo for it even then-my Mom bought it for me. I’m not sure how long I had rifles…of my own. I know there were deer rifles in my house before I was born! My first .22 rifle was given to me by my dad and it still resides in my gun safe and I only really know that I’ve had it for more than 30 years.

I never broke any laws with my guns other than “unlawful carry.” That’s funny too when you think about it: I’d drive around that small Texas town with a loaded gun under the seat-I was all of about 17 years old. Nowadays if a kid has a gun we call out the SWAT teams. A friend of mine and I reloaded so we always were shooting something. Cans, milk cartons…hell, anything! The police all knew about it…I used to get stopped on a traffic stop:

“Hey, Dave. You packin’ today?”

“Yeah.”

“Got ammo?”

“Yeah, about 200 rounds.”

“Wanna go shootin’?”

They knew that I was a poor candidate for an icehouse robbery. Not all of them agreed that I should have the gun…I know that, but they all knew I was not a problem with the gun. Years later, when I became a Deputy Sheriff, I saw one of them at the District Attorneys office. He was one of the ones who didn’t want me to have that gun in the car years ago. He glanced down at my holster, at the “Pistol Master” qualification badge on my uniform, then up at me and grinned. We were both thinking the same thing…

So what changed? The gun? Well, somehow I don’t think that the firearm made a decision to pervert innocent children. Did the laws get more lax? Back in those days in Texas a child didn’t have any rights at all. If your dad beat you with a strap you could only be thankful he stopped! I also know that the Justice of the Peace back then, a mean old cuss everyone called “Buster,” would rip you an entirely new rectum if you messed up. Nobody wanted that man mad at them!

No, the difference is that parenting was more in those days than reproducing. My father felt morally responsible for my actions, and if I failed to live up to his expectations he punished me. I lived by rules that he set up..home by a certain time, music turned down low (when it was allowed to play at all) , he decided who my friends were (I can just imagine some gangster type ringing the doorbell and asking Dad if I was home!) and if I got in trouble someplace, not only did I have to cope with the consequences of society-but afterwards I had to deal with him. If I’d ever been arrested I’d pray to stay in jail, because I didn’t want to face dad and what he had in store for me afterwards!

My father wouldn’t have marched anywhere if I’d been the victim of an accident or if I’d been gunned down in a gang shooting. He’d have been ashamed of his own failure as a parent. He’d have wished he’d taught me to safely handle firearms and he’d have wished he’d kept me out of gangs. Of course dad didn’t have to WISH for these things…he did them. He didn’t join any Morons movement or follow Rosie O’Donut-butt!