The following is an allegory mixed with a bit a fact; all of which is intended to make the reader think. This one is a bit longer, so go get a cup of coffee before you begin. Then set back, relax for a minute and ENJOY!
Years ago I graduated High School with a guy named Devon. Devon's Dad, back in the 1960's, founded a local gun, the Lake Cicott Gun Club. As a young boy, Devon grew up midst the culture of local firearms enthusiasts, while watching his Dad manage the Club activities. He grew up watching as men would come out to the Club to pursue a variety of gun related activities, which included competitive Trap Shooting. He watched as ten's of thousands of clay pigeons were blown to smithereens above the green fields surrounded by trees. Little did anyone know the lessons being learned or the kind of dreams that were being formed in the heart of a little boy.
As a natural result of young Devon's surroundings, one day he was no doubt introduced to the safe and proper use of a firearm. Shortly after those beginning lessons, he would have had the opportunity to shoot his first clay targets. Those moments would have a lasting impact. Devon's life would never be the same.
Detour with me now to a time long before young Devon was even born:
A young farmer sees a wild turkey strutting through the brush; he pulls back the string on his bow and lets the arrow fly. Hard work and much practice had made the young farmer very proficient, yet his skills could not supersede the inherent limitations of wood and leather, and feathers, and flint. Yet, as a result of his efforts this day, his family would eat well for the next few days.
And then… one day, while preparing to once again release his arrow on a large tom, the young farmer hears a sharp crack… a loud noise never heard before. The startled tom turkey flew away… and the young farmer, curious as to the source of this unusual sound, hesitantly walked in direction of the far away noise.
After walking about half a mile, he discovers a fellow farmer, standing at the edge of a small steam holding a strange object in his hand. Upon investigation the young farmer sees his first gun. Instantly his world, indeed the very security and future survival of his family would change. He didn't have to be highly educated to be able to recognize the seriousness of this new tool.
In the months that followed, another young farmer living some distance away wasn't finding any turkeys to shoot. Bored with his lack of luck, the farmer saw an apple hanging from a branch not more than perhaps 40 yards away. Recognizing the life saving importance of maintaining his marksmanship skills, he shouldered his gun, took careful aim and pulled the trigger. When the smoke cleared he discovered that the apple was gone. Smiling to himself, he reloaded, walked over to the apple tree and looked down see about a dozen ripe red apples on the ground, and an idea popped into his head. He picked up an apple, and turning to face the open sky, the farmer threw the apple upward with a strong underhand toss with his left hand, quickly shouldered his gun, he sighted down the top of a hexagonal shaped barrel, and once again pulled the trigger… As he walked home that afternoon an idea occurred to him; he would challenge his neighbor to contest. The winner would take home "bragging rights".
But a problem developed… Other farmers heard about this silly contest and declared it a farce, a waste of time. Why would any sensible farmer use such an important survival tool for such a ridiculous purpose? So, to avoid the public ridicule of the other farmers, the two men took their contest to a secluded field where no one would see. The day arrived for their contest, and when the time arrived for them to test their skills, they noticed another farmer approaching. "Mind if I join?" The group of farmers meeting together for these "illegitimate" contests began to increase in the months that followed. They would even meet every so often in the barn to share a cup of coffee and discuss how they might improve their skills.
When other farmers heard about what was now happening on a regular schedule, they gossiped with each other and bad-mouthed the "recreational" shooters as often as possible. They never missed a chance to berate and belittle the senseless competitions. But that didn't stop the few apple shooters; for, they had found a great deal of happiness in their new pastime and in the friendships made. And… more importantly they intuitively knew that the skills honed in their contests would easily translate to fields filled with real game that would keep their families safe and well fed.
Fast forward back to my friend, Devon:
Devon would grow up and one day work for Federal Premium Ammunition. His job assignments would include travelling all over the United States promoting Federal Premium Ammunition to competitive sport shooters. However, this ammunition salesman never forgot the dreams of a little boy. He continued pursuing his passion of shooting clays. Thousands, and tens of thousands, and hundreds of thousands of plain, ordinary, boring, identical clay targets passed before the business end of his Perazzi shotgun. You can read his story here…
http://pharostribune.com/sports/x2137443283/Harris-hits-100-000-trapshooting-tar\
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Little could that farmer who was shooting apples realize that one day a man would put his own children through college with winnings from a contest not unlike the one he created when he tossed that first apple into the sky. Without a doubt, just like the farmer, Devon heard the naysayers. He heard from those who made fun of such a waste of valuable ammunition. But thankfully, he didn't let those curmudgeons deter him from his goal. Attending to a sport as old as time… as old as the first two hunters who picked up rocks and hurled them into the air to see who could throw the farthest… my friend Devon, became a Champion.
Some guys buy guns, in which they will never chamber the first round, to put upon display in a gun shrine in their home. Some gun owners learn enough to be able to talk the talk at the Gun Club meetings, but when it comes to being able to walk the walk and hit what they're aiming at… well, that's another story. And then there are those who use their guns solely for the purpose of sport game hunting. Although they are getting closer to the "real" intended purpose for possessing a firearm, that of providing food and protection for their families, their survival really doesn't fully depend upon their skills. Finally, there are those who, like my friend, find great pleasure in using guns in competitive trap shooting… busting routine clay and collecting points.
However… and here is my point. How many gun owners have ever been faced with having to shoot to keep their family from starvation? Out of the four types of gun owners mentioned above, which one's family do you suppose would eat the best if their lives depended upon the skills of their provider?
There is, however, one last group of gun owners that I reluctantly would like to mention. They are the ones who spend all of their time "bitching" about everyone else because no one is using their guns for the purposes for which they were created… and yet, they themselves buy all their meat from Krogers.
When the day comes that lives depend upon the skills of Amateur Radio operators, which group do you think will have the best chance of success?
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