So it's 2013. I'm 43 years old (yegads, nobody repeat that, ok?), and in 3 days I'm going to shoot my first USPSA-sanctioned pistol competition. Yeah, I'm no spring chicken. I know this. Acutely. I have bad knees that require a course of injections every 6 months to restore the fluid in them, my plantar fasciitis is acting up & has been for some time now, I need to lose weight, yadda yadda yadda. So why am I doing this
NOW? At this stage in my life, you might ask? Because I caught the bug, and I am HOOKED.
I grew up around guns. My father had a bolt-action rifle and a Llama .380 ACP pistol that he kept loaded and under his pillow every night. (I know, the range officer and instructor in me absolutely
cringes whenever I think of how unsafe that was!)
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| My memory may be off, but I think this is what my dad's pistol looked like... |
But the point is, we were clearly a gun household. My father had a healthy respect for the military, police, etc., and he loved watching those shoot 'em up Spaghetti Westerns. You have to understand that part of that respect was due to his being an immigrant to the U.S., and so he instilled in my brother and I a love of country and admiration for the bill of rights, something they did not have in the Philippines. Problem is, his love of guns and desire to share that love only extended to showing his son (my brother) how to shoot. Granted, I never showed an inclination to shooting, so maybe that's why, but I was also taught to
fear guns. As in, touching any of my father's guns would result in some severe corporal punishment. So while I went all the way into adulthood respecting the 2nd Amendment and firearms, I never had shot one before myself, and feared to do so. The same went for my mom. It was kind of accepted, that in our society, generally, women did not handle firearms.
...Next entry: Why I Felt The Need to Buy A Pistol For Myself...
