Wow! it’s been awhile since I’ve been here and how I’ve missed it. There’s nothing quite like putting your thoughts down on a page. Ah the gift of writing. Releasing thoughts into the universe to land where they may...
News flash! This Canadian woman is not fond of guns. I know, I know, all you Alaskans are shocked and horrified. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. So I won’t.
I understand guns serve their purpose - lions and tigers and bears! Oh my! I’ll even be the first to admit there are probably situations I could find myself in that I’d like to have a gun and know how to use it safely. So far, I’ve succeeded at avoiding those situations.
Those of you who have read my blog in the past may recall the post titled “Eskimo-Spoused Vegetarian Moms of Canadian Origin” in which I bemoaned my stress about the No. 1 son visiting the gun range. It was then I discovered the discussion of my children firing weapons gives me an irregular heart rate and causes me to sweat profusely. Now that I think about it, perhaps it induces a stroke!
Needless to say, I was relieved when the hunter’s education test was finished and gladly returned to my blind hope that the topic would never re-emerge. Ah, the bliss of naivety!
My bliss came to an end during an unsuspecting drive to the orthodontist last week.
“Hey Mom,” says the No. 1 son, “do you think we could find a way to get me an inside tour of the crime lab armory so I can see all the cool guns they have?”
Now I’m a cool mom, so naturally my response involved the onset of hyperventilation accented by the stuttering of half words.
“Wh...wh...ho...wh...wh!” I sputtered.
This, I believe, was an intelligent response. Not only did I include the five W’s of journalism, but I stayed conscious and didn’t cause an accident!
The No. 1 son knew exactly the effect his question would have and quickly followed it up with, “Actually, I’m just wondering if I can go to the gun range to shoot hand guns with my uncle.”
I might have had a stroke at that moment but cool mom kept it together.
“Uhhhhhh... we’re at the orthodontist,” I intelligently responded.
This is a good time to mention that my husband is a genius.
Naturally I told him about the conversation with the No. 1 son and about my cool mom response. He didn’t once sigh, shake his head in dismay, or interrupt me. (See, genius.) He simply allowed me to finish my story and embark on a rant about gun control. He listened attentively the entire time and when I was finished he assured me it would all be ok and we didn’t need to think about all of this right now.
Hello again blissful naivety! How I’ve missed you!
I assure you I’m marginally embarrassed to admit my inclination towards avoidance on this topic, but there it is.
How do I balance my desire for them to actively participate in cultural activities like fall moose hunting with my sheer terror of them touching a firearm?
When I figure it out, I’ll let you know!