Why I won't Give Up Guns

I am proud to be an American citizen of the United States. I love Mom, apple pie, little kids, fireworks- the whole thing. One of the things that makes it so unique and so wonderful to be an American is our Constitution. The Second Amendment gives me, as a free citizen of the United States of America, the right to keep and bear arms. Keep, meaning," to hold and/or store in readiness for future use as needed or desired", and bear, meaning, "to carry on one's person, or in one's personal effects". The Second Amendment is the single item that allows us to keep all other rights, responsibilities and freedoms for ourselves as people, and allows those with enough guts to do so to be allowed and able to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

That said, I will say that I enjoy hunting as well. I no longer go hunting- it is physically unsafe for me and for others out there who are hunters- but I love fresh meat. Fortunately for me, my husband does hunt, so I get all the good spoils. I get fresh meat, leather for shoes, belts, and anything else I can manage to put together. I get food for my table, and plenty of recreation for myself as well. That's a lot to recieve for a few hours work on his part, a few hours wait on mine, and one bullet. It is good to know that I can manage not to waste the animals he brings home to me. That knowledge makes me happy. Now comes the rest of the story. I discovered that simply hunting and not wasting the kill could be a crime deterrent.

About a month before Hurricane Isabel hit the coast of Virginia in 2004, my husband went deer hunting with a freind. They brought back a lovely doe- she stepped right in front of the bullet meant for a nice buck, who susequently ran off. She was field-dressed, and brought home, still warm (!). My husband and I hoisted her into the tree in our front yard ( which was actually a lot in a rather rough trailer park), where we skinned her out, and we butchered her and wrapped her up for the freezer. I saved the head- brain-tanned leather is the best- and decided to tan the hide. Unfortunately, I discovered that my frames and other equipment had been lost in a big move. I stretched the hide over the back of the front steps of my home. I tacked it right up, and went to work, scraping and cleaning. This process takes a few days. We had several young thugs in the neighborhood, and they all brought their freinds to watch me scrape this bloody hide. I had to take several breaks- a mother's work is never done. While taking one of these breaks, I noticed folks driving by and stomping the brakes when they came up to our house. No one ever said a word to me, though I knew I was being watched. I continued my work, and turned out two small pairs of moccasins- one for my son, who was four, and one for my daughter, who was almost a year old.

Fast-forward about a month. After Isabel hit, we were without electricity or clean water for several days. We had camp dishes,but no kitchen stove, and no grill. The hurricane had taken it all away. So I built a stove from a coffee can and some screen, and we ate fairly well, while our neighbors were fighting over the propane for their grills, and running out of gas, and eating cold ravioli out of a can.

One night, while the children were asleep, my husband and I stepped outside to sit on the steps and talk before we went to bed. There were no streetlights- it was pitch-dark. There were members of the local thuggery out looking for places where they could go in and steal and rob. Eventually, they stopped on the street in front of our house. There were a group of them- about 6 or seven. They stopped for a few minutes, and we were very quiet, waiting to see what came next. Then we heard one young male speak up.

" Oh, hell, no. I ain't going in there. Them people are crazy! He'll blow your ass up, and then she'll start making stuff out of you, like Silence of the Lambs! " They all walked away, never realising we were sitting right there. Every home on our street was broken into, except ours. Who knew my recreation would turn out to be a better crime- deterrent than a burglar alarm and a big dog? And that, folks, is why I refuse to give up my guns. I love fresh meat.