Have you ever been to a firearms practice range and heard anyone heaping disparaging commentary upon another shooter? Has anyone ever seen another shooter boistrously drunk? Have you ever been asked to leave because of loud foul language or rudeness to fellow shooters? Ever pitched a fit over a missed shot?
Me neither.
I'm not saying that the occasional whispered epithet has not escaped our lips when when a shot failed to cut the 10 ring, or a clay target floated off like a great orange bird into the trap range burial ground while your cloud of number 11 shot continued to punch a hole in the sky. All of us are relatively human. We are all prone to fits of self-deprication -- but they are usually just that. Take that measuring stick to a football game, a golf course or a tennis court and run your survey. There's something about the skill of marksmanship, combining a high level of physical and mental control in an act that is so totally exposed and solo that directs rage over a bad performance inward. When we're at the range cradling that wood and metal shooting machine, we bring our party manners. This is something you teach kids like the First Tee program in golf and junior programs in tennis and some of the solo heat team sports.
Shooting is a solitary communion between the shooter and his gun, part of a tradition that is in the American Shooter DNA from the earliest man to hurl a missile and bonk a mammoth. Track and field athletes know about it. On that field of competiton they are part of a brotherhood of solo performers. A shooter is no less an athlete when he or she steps up to that firing line and plants the shooting boots. Ask a dust-streaked, sweaty, red-faced three-gun match shooter if marksmanship is physical.
And think of how you would feel if your last shot was followed by the roar of a crowd and a trip to Disneyland? If you want to put patriotism on the line, remember, we were once a nation of marksmen and women and were proud of it.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Kindred Spirits in Shooting Sports
When Gordon Morris Bakken was asked by my publisher to pen a short blurb for the back cover of my book, American Shooter, he instead did me the honor of going all in on a "foreward." He followed my model by making his work a review laced with patches from his own life, growing up with firearms and passing that love of the outdoors and marksmanship to his son. When he wrote for the back cover:
“An informative and enjoyable excursion, both historical and personal. Souter sets out
the problem of the polarization of public debate about guns. He seeks to separate 'myths and truth’ and ‘insights and blunders.’ This book is not about the Second Amendment
controversy. Yet Souter explores the nature of our gun culture and how deeply ingrained it is,
both personally and individually, and broadly throughout American society.”
I felt a kindred spirit. We both love the sport of firearms marksmanship for the skills required and for the camaraderie of our fellow sportsmen and women. We both started out as kids toting .22 rifles and still enjoy the crunch of trail breaking leaves under our boots and the faint scent of gun oil in the crisp fall air. It is a nice feeling to be in the company of a learned gentleman with enough alphabet soup after his name to be comfortable in any academic circle and yet he is grounded in the real world. One day, I hope we can meet in person, maybe stand side by side and drop the hammer on a few distant targets. Until then, I can only thank Gordon Morris Bakken, B.S., M.S., Ph.D, J.D. Professor of History, California State University, Fullerton
Firearm Owner Flagillation
Do you own a firearm? Is it buried in a drawer, hidden in a closet, camouflaged to look like an artsy lamp, or locked in a gun safe in a secure undisclosed location? Are you embarrassed that you own one or more firearms? Showing off a new set of golf clubs, a composite tennis racket, or a tricked-out mountain bike doesn't take a second thought. But taking down from its pride of place on the dining room wall rack, a custom stocked 30-06 Winchester bolt action rifle with an eight power telescopic sight, well, that's just plain creepy. When you load your cased shotguns into the trunk of your car to go to the trap range, do you notice your neighbors shooing their children inside as if you were the neighborhood designated sex offender? Have children stopped coming to your house on hallowe'en?
All of the above are common in the U.S. today because of the melding of riot and rampage, murder and mayhem that must be dealt with by the police and military, and the law-abiding ownership of firearms for the express purpose of enjoying the shooting sports. Even though approximately 200,000,000 guns are in American hands today, most people have been conditioned to fear firearms. But a gun on every hip is no solution -- it just announces the gun toter's fear, or aggession no longer veiled.
Too many kids are taught that respect comes from the barrel of a gun while a kid who learns that marksmanship skills and safe firearm handling are valued and rewarded builds self-esteem not the fear in the gut from phony street "justice." The United States was once a nation of shooters and earned respect toeing the mark. It can be that way again if the patriotic bullies and false prophets of doom take a seat, have a cold beer and let the adults get on with it.
All of the above are common in the U.S. today because of the melding of riot and rampage, murder and mayhem that must be dealt with by the police and military, and the law-abiding ownership of firearms for the express purpose of enjoying the shooting sports. Even though approximately 200,000,000 guns are in American hands today, most people have been conditioned to fear firearms. But a gun on every hip is no solution -- it just announces the gun toter's fear, or aggession no longer veiled.
Too many kids are taught that respect comes from the barrel of a gun while a kid who learns that marksmanship skills and safe firearm handling are valued and rewarded builds self-esteem not the fear in the gut from phony street "justice." The United States was once a nation of shooters and earned respect toeing the mark. It can be that way again if the patriotic bullies and false prophets of doom take a seat, have a cold beer and let the adults get on with it.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Putting on Kevlar Undies
My publisher, Potomac Books in Dulles, Virginia came up with the PR tag line: "Liberal in the NRA" to beat the drum for American Shooter. They believe it is a provocative oxymoron that will engage the curiosity of readers and cause money to magically fly from wallets and purses into the booksellers' cash registers. While I hope this is true, the term makes me feel like Buster Keaton in that Civil War movie where he crosses between the two battle lines wearing half of a Union Army uniform and half of a Confederate Army uniform carring a flag similarly divided. All fighting stops -- until the wind changes direction reversing the flag -- and everyone starts shooting at him.
This clever label suggests I stand between the political PAC that uses patriotic arm twisting to achieve its self-serving agenda cloaked in the guise of defending the Second Amendment and a collection of over-educated rabble who tilt at windmills with loopy statistics in an attempt to rid the world of firearms. Not a great place to be standing without a full set of Kevlar undies.
When I set out to write American Shooter, I approached the subject from two directions. As a historian with 50-odd books from mainstream publishers on bookseller shelves in the U.S., the history of America's gun culture is a rich subject filled with irony, excitement, humor, tradgedy and sharply drawn opinions. The other approach was as a marksman from age 12 when I earned my Boy Scout merit badge. That achievement, for a kid with low self-esteem, mediocre sports skills, average student abilities and few prospects for a life of blazing success, punched my ticket, gave me a hand up. At that time, I became a Junior National Rifle Association member and have remained a member ever since. This bipolar organization is still the effective steward of our sport.
A "Liberal in the NRA" does not stand for a political position as much as it does for seeking ground between the polarizing extremes of patriotic bullies and sweaty-palmed, Chautauqua tent drum beaters of the stripe that gave us the 18th Amendment back in 1920. To me, a liberal is the opposite of a lock-step ideologue. I'm supporting a solution that everyone can live with as long as those who push hate and division as their chief debating points can shut up, sit down and enjoy a nice cold beer while the adults in the room explore a couple of positive win-win ideas.
This clever label suggests I stand between the political PAC that uses patriotic arm twisting to achieve its self-serving agenda cloaked in the guise of defending the Second Amendment and a collection of over-educated rabble who tilt at windmills with loopy statistics in an attempt to rid the world of firearms. Not a great place to be standing without a full set of Kevlar undies.
When I set out to write American Shooter, I approached the subject from two directions. As a historian with 50-odd books from mainstream publishers on bookseller shelves in the U.S., the history of America's gun culture is a rich subject filled with irony, excitement, humor, tradgedy and sharply drawn opinions. The other approach was as a marksman from age 12 when I earned my Boy Scout merit badge. That achievement, for a kid with low self-esteem, mediocre sports skills, average student abilities and few prospects for a life of blazing success, punched my ticket, gave me a hand up. At that time, I became a Junior National Rifle Association member and have remained a member ever since. This bipolar organization is still the effective steward of our sport.
A "Liberal in the NRA" does not stand for a political position as much as it does for seeking ground between the polarizing extremes of patriotic bullies and sweaty-palmed, Chautauqua tent drum beaters of the stripe that gave us the 18th Amendment back in 1920. To me, a liberal is the opposite of a lock-step ideologue. I'm supporting a solution that everyone can live with as long as those who push hate and division as their chief debating points can shut up, sit down and enjoy a nice cold beer while the adults in the room explore a couple of positive win-win ideas.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Shooting is like sex, but without the humiliation
American Shooter gave me the opportunity to dig through a carton of spiral-bound journals dating back to teen years (yes, those are on paper, not on animal skins written in sheep's blood -- I'm not that old). This excavation showed me (a) what a windy goon I was between occasional bursts of inspired literary elegance and (b) how many adventures, trials, victories and important decisions in my life trace back to a substitute for sex in a basement when I was 12 years old.
Sliding a greased bullet into a rifle's breech, easing the bolt forward in its receiver channel and locking down the handle; aligning the sights on a black circle target of concentric rings 50 feet distant and applying pressure to the trigger with my breath held in my throat, waiting... The mechanism's sear drops from its notch and the firing pin darts forward like a snake's tongue. Ignition. A puff of released gas and the bullet spirals out of the muzzle, corkscrewing down range to punch a hole in the paper target. Whap. Release. Unlock the bolt handle, withdraw the steel cylinder to the rear bringing with it the spent and empty brass cartridge case until the mechanical ejector snaps the case free of the extractor's grip and, like the sucked-dry husk of a dead insect, the brass shell shimmers briefly in its flight and then disappears into the darkness as another of its kind is slipped into the rifle's still-smoking breech. Score.
My first shot was a bulls-eye, dead center of the target, a "pinwheel" in shooter jargon. After years of failure at virtually every sport known to man (except possibly Buzkashi headless goat carcass racing, the premier sport of Afghanistan) Mom and Dad finally had a keeper!
What about the "sex" part? Try sliding bullets into the lubricated breech of a fine rifle or well balanced pistol with the anticipation of pumping those hot slugs down range at a distant target and try to not think of sex. Sure, once the process of shooting begins, your libido becomes entangled in the foreplay of trigger control, breathing, grip and lining up those pesky sights, but brother -- or sister -- you are caught up in an adrenaline-fueled orgasm of shoot and reload until that last round leaves the muzzle. You are spent, but unlike sex, you can begin again right away, time after time after time...
Sliding a greased bullet into a rifle's breech, easing the bolt forward in its receiver channel and locking down the handle; aligning the sights on a black circle target of concentric rings 50 feet distant and applying pressure to the trigger with my breath held in my throat, waiting... The mechanism's sear drops from its notch and the firing pin darts forward like a snake's tongue. Ignition. A puff of released gas and the bullet spirals out of the muzzle, corkscrewing down range to punch a hole in the paper target. Whap. Release. Unlock the bolt handle, withdraw the steel cylinder to the rear bringing with it the spent and empty brass cartridge case until the mechanical ejector snaps the case free of the extractor's grip and, like the sucked-dry husk of a dead insect, the brass shell shimmers briefly in its flight and then disappears into the darkness as another of its kind is slipped into the rifle's still-smoking breech. Score.
My first shot was a bulls-eye, dead center of the target, a "pinwheel" in shooter jargon. After years of failure at virtually every sport known to man (except possibly Buzkashi headless goat carcass racing, the premier sport of Afghanistan) Mom and Dad finally had a keeper!
What about the "sex" part? Try sliding bullets into the lubricated breech of a fine rifle or well balanced pistol with the anticipation of pumping those hot slugs down range at a distant target and try to not think of sex. Sure, once the process of shooting begins, your libido becomes entangled in the foreplay of trigger control, breathing, grip and lining up those pesky sights, but brother -- or sister -- you are caught up in an adrenaline-fueled orgasm of shoot and reload until that last round leaves the muzzle. You are spent, but unlike sex, you can begin again right away, time after time after time...
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
A Liberal in the NRA
That tag assigned to my new book "American Shooter" (Potomac Books, Dulles, Virginia) by my publisher fairly describes my situation thrust squarely into the center of America's current gun culture. Gun ownership has long been a hotbutton topic in the United States, and the National Rifle Association has the reputation of being an organization of primarily politically conservative members.
American Shooter provides a unique look at gun ownership, handgun bans, shooting sports, and the controversy over how to interpret the Second Amendment from the point of view of a liberal gun owner and enthusiast.
I examine the history of firearms in the United States, from the settlers who carried matchlock muskets ashore at Jamestown to the citizens who purchase guns in record numbers today. Recent Supreme Court decisions that uphold the right to bear arms have galvanized citizens on both sides of the debate, making the gun issue hotter than ever.
To provide a personal view, I weave in tales of my own experiences with guns, including sport shooting as a young man, hunting and bonding with my father, and facing the smoking end of a muzzle as an international photojournalist.
American Shooter is both a history and a personal journey that traces the path of American gun ownership culture from the Revolution to today. It recounts how the country has lived with guns from the flintlock hung over the fireplace to the concealed-carry, laser-sighted Glock semiautomatic pistol tucked away in the hidden pocket of Mom's purse.
This blog invites opinions, memories, debate and recognition that exclamation points do not necessarily make the exclaimer correct. Also, I admit that I was wrong once back in 1947 and I never forgot the humiliation, so if you judge one of my opinions to be pure unrepentent stubborness, you are probably right.
American Shooter provides a unique look at gun ownership, handgun bans, shooting sports, and the controversy over how to interpret the Second Amendment from the point of view of a liberal gun owner and enthusiast.
I examine the history of firearms in the United States, from the settlers who carried matchlock muskets ashore at Jamestown to the citizens who purchase guns in record numbers today. Recent Supreme Court decisions that uphold the right to bear arms have galvanized citizens on both sides of the debate, making the gun issue hotter than ever.
To provide a personal view, I weave in tales of my own experiences with guns, including sport shooting as a young man, hunting and bonding with my father, and facing the smoking end of a muzzle as an international photojournalist.
American Shooter is both a history and a personal journey that traces the path of American gun ownership culture from the Revolution to today. It recounts how the country has lived with guns from the flintlock hung over the fireplace to the concealed-carry, laser-sighted Glock semiautomatic pistol tucked away in the hidden pocket of Mom's purse.
This blog invites opinions, memories, debate and recognition that exclamation points do not necessarily make the exclaimer correct. Also, I admit that I was wrong once back in 1947 and I never forgot the humiliation, so if you judge one of my opinions to be pure unrepentent stubborness, you are probably right.
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