I went hunting with a ‘real’ gun for the first time when I was 11. I was using bb-guns before I could keep my first bicycle upright. I received one of the highest local gun-safety scores ever recorded in my county when I took the course, and my grandfather contributed further to this as a nationally recognized certified gun-safety instructor. Guns are part of my list of inherited heirlooms, and are a regular part of my recreational life with my family back in South Dakota.

With this background, you will hopefully understand this sentiment: I can’t understand or explain why I don’t have a handgun for home protection. I’ve been thinking about that, and I can’t explain it. I like guns. Moreover, I respect them. (Those of you ruffled by this: how many of you feel the same way about swords, or have them hanging on the walls?)

In a potential war situation where the enemy (at least) will be bringing the battle to our home soil, these thoughts keep banging around my head. I don’t know if I’m entirely comfortable with them, but there they are. They are not the sort of thing one ‘should’ think in an enlightened society, and I suppose that’s part of it. Then again, we’re only as sophisticated as our environment allows.