Pink Think: “When he was young, I told Dale Jr. that hunting and racing are a lot alike. Holding that steering wheel and holding that rifle both mean you better be responsible.” – Dale Earnhardt
photo by Termin8ter on Flickr
Today, I watched my 12 year old son take a shooting test at the police range to complete his hunter safety class. My husband could not take him because he was coaching a soccer team at a game my son had to miss for this shooting test. It was a funny division of labor because I have this fear of guns and I kept reminding my son to point the muzzle of his unloaded rifle up into the air, just in case, to the rhythm of my son rolling his eyes. My son knew what to do; I just had to get him there.
I don’t particularly like guns, but I’m glad my son knows how to handle them safely. I grew up in the city, where guns did not mean shooting at Bambi; it meant people could get hurt. Or worse, killed. Where my dad carried it for his own protection and I only held it once as he was making a point that I should learn how to use a gun someday because it is an unsafe world out there. I held it, cold powerful metal in my hands, handed it back and shook my head. Later, much later, when I was married several years to my husband who hunts, I took a gun safety course and finally got to the point where I could touch a gun and not hyperventilate.
Today my son loaded bullets in a rifle with steady nerves and a sure eye on a paper rabbit and squirrel.
Funny how things can change with each generation.
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