The following article is a guest submission from a female supporter of the Utah Gun Exchange.
Why do I own guns?
I am a mother of four sons and grandmother of two. I am an egghead. I’m an attorney and a writer and, according to society, the least likely person to want to own a gun. So why do I?
I grew up in Detroit, Michigan. I can remember my dad working the night shift at the car company during the race riots when Detroit was burning. I can remember being afraid. But in Detroit, only criminals owned guns. Not reasonable, sane people. I didn’t know a soul who owned a gun or would even consider owning one—even when we were afraid.
I married a man who grew up in Utah. I think he was given his first gun when he turned eight years old. He grew up hunting with his grandpa and his dad. I was appalled. I can remember making a snide comment when we were dating about how he was probably some nut with a gun rack in his truck. I thought I had to deduct ten IQ points because he was a gun owner.
As we had children, I barely tolerated him buying a few more guns. I insisted that we never see them and never touch them. I grew more tolerant as he was the Scoutmaster for 11 years and took the boys shooting each year. But I was never happy about it and would pray mightily during the gun campout each year that all would be safe.
All that changed when I read a book. It was Lucifer’s Hammer—a book about a meteor strike hitting the earth and the breakdown of society that ensued. One story really hit me. A family in the book had stored lots of food. And the minute society was disrupted, hungry people came to their home, shot them dead, and took their food. I was shaken.
We have lots of food. I looked at my four boys and my husband and I had the strongest emotion well up in me. NOBODY was going to kill my family to get at my food. NOBODY.
I went to my husband and asked him how many guns we had and how much ammo. When he told me, I said, “Not enough. Buy more, buy LOTS more and teach me how to shoot.”
This is why I own guns. I own guns because I love my family.
Many of my friends, neighbors, and acquaintances in the community know that we keep a year’s supply of food. And I know that if something happens we are vulnerable. I look forward to helping those in need, but I must be able to defend myself and my loved ones from those who might wish to do us harm.
I do NOT want to live in fear. I am a ferocious momma bear. And if anyone wants to get at my family, they’re gonna have to go through me first. And they need to be warned.
I am a mother and a grandmother. And I am armed and dangerous. Not because of fear, but because of love.
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