When Dad was a kid, his parents wouldn’t allow him to have guns. But when my brothers and I were growing up, toy guns were in, and we wanted them! We had nearly every kind of toy gun they made. There were muskets, like Davy Crockett used, hand guns like Marshal Dillon used, bazookas like the Rat Patrol used, secret guns like James Bond used. I even had a “shoot-around-the-corner” gun that shot ping pong balls with the use of a special pivoting mirror sight!
Being a kid in the sixties meant that you were familiar with guns. We all knew guns could kill because all of us know where we were when the announcement was made that President Kennedy had been shot. We saw the pictures over and over that showed us what a gun could, and would, do. If that weren’t enough, we were shown on television every night the latest Vietnam “scoreboard” that actually showed each day how many of “us” died and how many of “them” we killed.
Dad knew, too, that guns were cool to the kids. He watched us play “army” and “cowboys and Indians” as we shot at each other, and occasionally made a “hit.” It was then that the actor in all of us came out and had its chance to show everyone in the family (and any unsuspecting visitors) just how good we could “die.” It must have been troubling to Mother and Dad, to see us shoot at each other and pretend to die. I don’t allow my kids to do that. Maybe it troubled me, too.
At some point, Dad knew we had to understand real guns and know the difference. He was not a big hunter, like some of his friends, but he had a .22 rifle. Dad would take us “plinking” on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. We probably didn’t go more than a few times, but it was very memorable because we got to shoot a real gun! Sometime along the way, someone would inevitably, accidentally, allow the gun to point at another person. That was Dad’s cue. He always noticed and corrected us. He would take the gun, and explain, “You never point a gun at anybody unless you plan to shoot them, and don’t shoot anyone unless you plan to kill them.” Don’t misunderstand me, Dad would never kill anyone, nor would he condone or recommend it. He was making a point. He knew that we would be appalled at the very idea of shooting, much less killing, anyone! This phrase got our attention.
I’m pretty sure that Dad even reminded us a couple of times when we pointed toy guns at him and he wasn’t expecting it. The point was well taken. He would even elaborate by reminding us that guns were made for killing. We had no business carrying a gun around, and doing so suggested that we had plans to kill. It made me very cautious then and now.
I didn’t steal Dad’s phrase, but I think I borrowed his underlying theme. In my family, our response is that the very thought of one of our children having a gun pointed at them, or pointing a gun at someone was horrible. We never wanted that to happen. So... if we point the toy guns often enough in play, we might one day decide that a real gun could be pointed, too. So, in our family, we just don’t do it.
Maybe the problem is that kids today often see blood and guts as something that is generated by Hollywood for the “Jason” or “Terminator” movies, and not a true-to-life experience like losing a President or watching friends go off to war and not seeing them come home.
I’m not sure what it is that makes kids want guns. I guess nobody knows. It’s still a problem and is getting worse. Our local TV news team had a story recently about how easy it is for teens to get guns. They interviewed teenagers who said they needed the guns to protect themselves. I wish those teens, and the teens they’re afraid of, had a dad like mine.