I wanted to own a firearm enough that it was on my original list of 26.
I was no gun zealot, like many young boys. I didn’t even have much experience with firearms, considering where I grew up. So, the desire to be a firearm owner wasn’t part of a healthy family tradition, nor was it a less healthy, although phase-based, violence obsession.
I suppose I instead understood early that it was important for me to experience and be comfortable with a potentially dangerous, but popular, healthy part of the American tradition.
Today, through the recent loss of my paternal grandfather, I became the proud owner of four .22 caliber rifles. Surely they are small and unpowerful, but I expect them to be a part of a family tradition I hope to begin.
I am happy to think of someday teaching my son about safety and maintence of these low caliber rifles that I got from my grandfather.