I’d need a permit. And lessons on how to shoot, a place to keep it safe, and a way to overcome the fear that I’d shoot myself.
I’m not a natural gun owner.
But it’s time to take my life into my own hands, forget about all of the anti-gun rhetoric that I hear bandied about by those who exploit tragedy for their own political purposes, and make 2019 the year that I stop expecting others to look out for me.
It seems that we’ve become a society where criminals and alleged criminals are given an outsized amount of sympathy. Even President Trump just touted his criminal justice reform package. While I don’t think the solution is an old-style Dodge City shootout, it’s dawned on me that I might need something more than my persuasive personality as protection.
Then, the other day, a fellow who called me a fascist posted something on my Facebook page that transcends First Amendment protections.
…the person who posted on my Facebook page shared a photo of a young boy standing over a priest he’d just shot through the forehead. He also made some comments that I found personally threatening, and I called the police. It was the first time I’d ever done that.
Many years ago, my aunt’s ex husband came to our house looking for her. When my mother told him she wasn’t there, he put a gun to her forehead. By the grace of God and superhuman calm, she talked him down.