Happiness is a Warm Gun

That title?  It’s a Beatles song. One of their more obscure songs, if there is such a thing.  You are probably wondering why this peace loving Buddhist would be connecting happiness and a warm gun!  Basically, I like to try to find a catchy title that may draw you in. I hope it has. But, in spite of my liberal leanings and my spirituality, I do have some happy memories of warm guns. Let me explain.

As you know, I grew up in Slatington, a community of 4000 in mostly rural northern Lehigh County.  Being that it was a rural area, hunting and guns were fairly common.  During deer season, it wasn’t uncommon to see a dead buck or doe strapped to the hood or trunk of a car.  Do you know why, to this day, kids still have off on the Monday after Thanksgiving? It started because that was always the start of deer season and most kids would skip school and head to the woods and fields.

I own no guns now, nor do I plan to. But I have owned five guns in my distant past. I say distant because I don’t think I have used a gun since graduation from high school.  My views on guns have changed, obviously, but this is not a political blog.

My first gun was a bb gun. Yes, a Daisy, of course.  I think I got it for Christmas when I was about ten.  My friends and I would use it to shoot tin cans and bottles. We would also use it to shoot at sparrows, never ever hitting one. The best thing about my bb gun was that it got me out in the woods a lot, a love of mine to this day.

My second gun was a 22. Now we are talking higher power than bb pellets. You could kill someone with a 22. Don’t worry. I never have!  But I did shoot pigeons and groundhogs and those bottles and cans I missed with my bb gun.

Turning twelve meant official hunting. Yes, a license and everything!  Back then there were no safety courses. It was expected that your father would teach you that stuff.  My dad did. It still amazes me to this day that my dad was a hunter.  He wasn’t stereotypical. That’s for certain.  He was a Mennonite raised, Allentown Business School educated, nerdy, non-macho, door to door salesman!  But he and my brothers and an uncle and a cousin would go small game hunting. My guns for that were shotguns. A 20 gauge and a 410 gauge.  I remember the first time shooting the 20 gauge. My shoulder hurt for a week. And a 20 gauge is one of the less powerful shotguns.  So, with my shotguns, my family shot rabbits and pheasants, doves and squirrels. And yes, we ate them too.

My last gun was a deer rifle. A 30.06.  It was used, of course, to shoot deer. I am extremely happy to report that I never shot a deer, nor ever even saw one while hunting. I don’t know if I could have actually pulled the trigger if I had seen one.  Such beautiful animals. I think that was what led me to quit hunting when I graduated. I didn’t like killing animals. I know, this hypocrite still likes a good steak!

So I have no animosity toward hunters nor hunting culture.  It wasn’t for me.  But isn’t that what growing up is all about? Testing the values your parents taught you and seeing what sticks and what falls to the wayside. I am happy that guns and hunting taught me about the wonderful outdoors.

As an aside, you may want to listen to the Beatles song with the same title as my post. It’s a really good song with one of the greatest, long held, high notes in rock history. Thank you, John Lennon.

I am home recovering from surgery. Thanks for all the well wishes.