Single Status Update
Where I Stand On The 2nd Amendment
I realize that which I am about to say is a part of a parable in taking away the big picture of what is meant to be communicated... but the content used within this parable is extracted from real life reality:
Mark 3:27: “But no one can enter the strong man’s house and plunder his property unless he first binds the strong man, and then he will plunder his house."
I honestly can't remember when I 1st accepted that responsibility within myself. It's been there for as long as I can remember. When I was 14 years old my father had my mother bent over backward in the kitchen after coming home late from a great night on the town to a hot, well rounded supper before him. As always, he had a great time out with his friends but when he got home, it was time to make my mother miserable. That particular night he had her bent over backward with a knife to her throat telling her... I can't even remember what was being said or what he was upset about.
That night, I had to be the strong man. I was 14 years old. If my mother was going to survive, I had to be the strong man. We lived out in the middle of no where. There was never any help for anyone out there... there's very little available even today. The very thing that enabled me to be the strongman that night, Democrats are hell bent on taking away. What was it? A sawed off, single shot shotgun that originally belonged to my grandfather on my Dad's side. I'll never forget it because it has an aluminum foreguard on the barrel that Dad made for it at work because the old wooden one was busted.
I ran to get the gun. I was afraid I wouldn't even get back to the kitchen in time to save Mom, so I let loose a round in the living room aiming at the top of the wall going into my sister's bedroom. I had two sisters in there that were sprayed by the wood splinters from the hole I just made. I popped open the barrel, the spent shell flew out, I slammed another one in, closed the gun and stepped into the kitchen.
There he was... in all his glory, a half smile and half grimace on his face, looking mostly kind of pleased with himself that he had the whole house scared to death. He saw me. I didn't say a word. I just raised my gun.
He stopped what he was doing, looking at me like a cat trying to charm a snake. But he was out of charm that night. He let my Mom go. When she stepped away, I lowered my gun to his knees. I wasn't going to kill him, but I was going to alter him in a way that he'd never be able to do that to anyone else. I was going to blow both his knees off.
Then he said, "No... No. Do it right here!" He was pointing at his mouth, opening his mouth and pointing inside with his finger. Maybe he was testing my resolve? Hope an 14 year old would just break down and cry? I don't know. But I raised my gun. It was at that moment that I found out within myself that I could kill a man. The gun was already cocked. I aimed for his mouth. I didn't exactly want to remember the vision of his brains going all over the wall behind him nor anything else about the mess that would be made, so I closed my eyes and began squeezing the trigger.
With that, he dropped his knife with a clank. It startled me. I opened my eyes to see him just standing there white as a sheet, looking at me with a holy shit moment on his face. He slowly moved to his right about 2 feet, reached for the kitchen door, opened it, left, got in his car and left. He did not come back until the next day.
Oh "Happy Days", you might say. But I knew that were not the end of it... not by a long shot.
The next day after he came home, I listened as he and Mom had a very calm conversation in the kitchen from my bedroom. They were talking low enough I couldn't understand the words, but I could hear the tone of voice. That was all I needed. I could tell from the tone which way it would go as I lay there on my bed with the shotgun laying across me, just as it had been the whole night prior waiting on Dad to return.
Eventually he came into my room. I sat up, gun on him the whole time. He looked at me with a genuine look of concern and regret. He never said a word. He reached out a piece of paper wanting me to take it, which I did. He backed up against my door and motioned for me to read it. I did. It was an apology for the way he had acted the night before. I tore it into pieces, dropped it on the floor and put both hands back on my gun. He left the room. I don't remember what he did after that, but it was peaceful, whatever it was.
End of it? Not at all.
I KNEW that that old, half broken down, sawed off 12 gauge was the only thing that saved my Mom that night... Well. That and my willingness to use it. I KNEW it was going to happen again and if I were going to have a prayer at being the "strong man" when it counted? I was going to need that 12 gauge. So I hid it and the few shells I could find for it. I was the only one that knew where it was. I wouldn't even tell Mom, and she asked.
In the months ahead, little by little, Dad started demanding I give the gun back. He eventually threatened me with every punishment you can imagine for that era in time. Some he followed through with, some not, but EVERYTHING was threatened. I never gave back the gun.
It took a while, but little by little Dad started getting louder and louder when he came in from his "after work stress release", always drunk. I eventually found out what was going on in his head when he did what he did. There was a reason, but never an excuse for doing what he did to any of us, my sisters, me and my Mom.
One night, it again escalated. In my room were windows that ALL of the old coal company houses had, single pane windows that fit loosely in a trac to open and close unless they had been painted shut. Mine were used frequently to open and close for summer so it was very loose. When I heard the argument ensue, I went out of my window as I was going to where I had my gun hidden. The walls were thin, no insulation. I raised the window as high as it would go and just let it slam shut. I KNEW Dad would hear it in the kitchen. He did.
Hitting the ground outside after exiting the window, I went to where the 12 gauge was. I could hear the argument had stopped. That is all I knew. Snow was on the ground and the path to where I was was as obvious as bear shit on your shoes. After a few minutes Dad came outside... yelling at me... demanding I get back to the house this very minute and to bring that "damned gun with you". He was standing in my footsteps at the edge of the yard, yelling into the woods where he knew I had just gone.
I sat motionless... scared to death. I didn't know what to do. He would be able to come right to me. Then it dawned on me that if he did follow me into the woods, when he got to where I was, I was going to have to kill him. And I would have. There's something that happens within a person when you've made that kind of decision... something that doesn't "hit" you like it does anything else when you've decided for sure to kill someone. I just knew I would. I didn't know what would happen to me afterward? But whatever it was, my family would still be alive because of it and the threat would be eliminated.
After a few minutes Dad stopped yelling. He went back into the house and I came down to the edge of the yard so I could listen... Nothing. I couldn't hear one word. I dreaded the thought of again having to go in there gun in hand for another showdown... But as I was thinking about all of that, Dad came out of the house, got in his car and drove off nice and slow, just like you would any other time. I went into the house, froze to death. I remember my fingers being so cold I probably couldn't have cocked that gun if I had to. It was a stiff-hammered thing.
That was the last time Dad was that kind of trouble except for once I called him out into the yard after I had grown up... but it was the last time I had to go out the window... I NEVER gave the gun back until years later, Dad had been dead a few years, when Mom passed I gave to gun to my brother. I don't know I've even told him this story. I know I told my youngest sister which was too young to remember being sprayed by wood chips as she sat in the lap of my oldest sister being cradled, both of them scared to death. My oldest sister would never forget... but she's no longer on this earth either.
So is that the end of it? Not the way I see it. I mean sure. Lots happened for my Dad before he died that I'm very grateful for. But it was hardly the end of me being the "strong man" of my house. And having just recalled all this in my mind has given me a bit of enlightenment as to possibly why I am so passionate about the Constitution today. This is very unexpected. My words are coming forth right now, this very minute, 9:49am EST on 03-12-2020 just the way you are reading them. This isn't some sort of writ I've produced to promote as planned propaganda in support of the 2nd Amendment. But this writ may be something I share with others in the future. I haven't thought that out yet.
Back when all this happened, I was 14. I hadn't even heard of the Constitution, let alone the 2nd Amendment. I spent the next..... 25 years or so not giving a hoot in the holler about anything but me and mine. Warm tail to wake up to, sex, drugs and rock & roll were my life. Oh I had kids. I loved them very much. But I didn't love them as much as I loved myself. Politics? Who needed that? I did know early on that of I were to be involved, I'd be more a Republican in platform than anything. I mean, I always KNEW what was right and what was wrong even when I decided to do wrong things. Even though I was a complete heathen, had I ever been FORCED to make up rules for a society, I would at least have to be responsible enough to do the right thing, even if I didn't live that way. That said, I still didn't pay any attention to what was happening in government. I thought that no matter who won or lost, they all had our best interests at heart. I thought all the disagreements were over petty things that didn't make any difference when you got to the core of American motives, Democrat or Republican, Tea Party, Originalist, whoever, whatever, etc., etc., etc.. I wasn't paying attention. I was dead wrong and didn't even know it because I was more than happy to live voluntarily ignorant.
A couple of decades back I did start paying attention. I reluctantly decided that if I were going to talk about the Constitution so much, I should at least give it minimal study... and I was shocked... to encounter the GOD-GIVEN knowledge, wisdom and PASSION of our Founders. Shocked. I knew none of them personally, of course. But what they stood for? The legacy they left us as an AMERICAN birthright? To learn of the sacrifices they were willing to make in deed and in fortune... to lend a supreme intelligence that could have only been granted by God? I can well understand that and I can say with God as my Witness... I love those men... I love their vision... their wisdom... and their instruction. I share their goals, which are many that haven't even yet been realized, but they are there, awaiting us to achieve each and every one.
So why am I so passionate about the 2nd Amendment now? Because come to find out, our Founding Fathers, through their extensive education of the world, human nature and its tendencies, the various governments that have occupied it, gave US a vision of government that, quite unlike all the other governments of this world, could be sustained indefinitely instead of meeting it's end in a couple of centuries.
Our Founders, through the 2nd Amendment, knew that if not properly restrained, government would become "the drunken father" leading the homes of America: Big, powerful, overwhelming... a tyrant bent on personal satisfactions and total control over the family... or worse yet, for sale to those willing to pay for trampled rights of others for their own benefit. Big government always becomes "drunk with power". History has proven it over and over to the point it cannot be intelligibly denied. In the same way, big government without checks and balances become corrupt - EACH AND EVERY TIME. And yes. It happened at my house in the middle of nowhere, West Virginia... and we have just been shown that for the last 80 YEARS it has been going on in OUR HOUSE, in Washington.
What does the 2nd Amendment do? One of the things is that it makes it possible for the RIGHT person to be the "strong man" of the house. A gun is no guarantee of anything, mind you. But it does at least give us the opportunity to make a difference in the RIGHT way, for the RIGHT reasons. My story is but one example of a success that happens hundreds of thousands of times every year in America. Americans many, MANY more times than not uses their guns to enhance the lives of those around them, make a difference in the lives in such a way that it is life-changing, and most importantly, sees that we remain intact and alive. Every member in my family survived and had their lives changed forever for the better because of an 14 year old with a shotgun.
In America, we guard ourselves against ALL "drunken fathers" both foreign and domestic, no matter their position or power. From my house, to the White House and everywhere in between, our guns are tools in our way (and only way) of keeping all-powerful government in check.
The 2nd Amendment allows Americans the OPPORTUNITY to keep the "wrong man" from being the "strong man".