My first memory of a firearm is seeing my great-grandfather’s 38-40 Colts hanging by his bed. I remember sitting on the floor and attempting to cock the hammer on another greatgrandfather’s Marlin 12 gauge pump and helping my father clean it. This is back when I was being potty trained ... long, long ago.
From the age of 5 years to 8, my responsibilities revolved around fetching game for my father …cleaning it and cleaning the weapons used in the taking. For several years I was expected to show that I could attend to my space in the home — my bedroom quarters — without being told.
My clothes hung up and put away, my bed made tight to bounce a quarter. The chores required to help mother maintain the household had to be done without question, complaint nor asking. Once I had established a “positive” track record, my father took me to the range and I got to fire a weapon.
At 8 years of age I learned to shoot. It was with a Winchester 1902 single shot .22 caliber rifle that had belonged to my Great-Grandpa Pete. The drill was military … ready on the left … ready on the right … ready on the firing line. One round of ball ammunition, load and lock. I remember standing with my face to the target and my father standing behind me. He said something, and I turned to face him, as I did not hear clearly.
As my body turned, the weapon was at port arms with my finger off the trigger. As the muzzle passed in front of my father’s face, his right hand and arm came up and engaged the side of my head and knocked me over to the flat of my back. His boot came to rest on my chest and his voice was clean and clear — “Never point your weapon at something unless you intend to kill it!”
So, from a very early age I was taught to be careful and responsible. My work with firearms, as all tools, was to be safe and considerate of other people.
My father told me clearly that his effort to teach me had nothing to do with hunting — no, the hunt was another matter. My expertise with firearms was such that I could do my duty to my family, God and Country. That I would grow to become an American.
My responsibility was to bring honor to all those who had sacrificed to provide me the opportunity to live in a wonderful country where liberty and justice were the paramount ambitions of citizens to be taken seriously.
My fellow Americans were of many shades and tribes but always American in Nation.
I believe that the quagmire we find about us today was intently and carefully deployed over many decades to bring the American Nation to an end. Our “leaders” have promoted irresponsibility, profanity and decadence. They have pushed equipment on the undisciplined and untrained as a right with no responsibility.
They promote the killing of the unborn and tell the child that they care about child welfare. They promote entertainment that imbues violence, hate and degradation as the path of effective living. They manufacture and promote the medical art in psychotropic drug as the necessary mechanism to control the humble masses. They see a better world in sustainability and green policy which yields a population that is manageable and appreciable — ultimately no more than a few hundred million around the whole of the earth.
It is my fervent prayer that my fellow citizens carefully consider their responsibilities and duties toward their families and our Nation. We can and must do better.
Yours in Patriotism,
Frank W. Giroux