A little while ago at American Digest, I commented on a post that Gerard Van der Leun wrote entitled "The Gun School ."
The point of my post and my position on the Second Amendment hopefully speaks for itself.:
"I grew up around men who hunted and were comfortable having and using guns. I loved to trapse around behind my father when he went quail hunting. He taught me a lot about guns. I learned to shoot when I was a teenager.
Anyway, many years later my former husband and I had a weekend cabin on a lake. Since it was considered somewhat rough country, we bought and hid a handgun in our bedroom, near the bed.
One summer evening I escaped the city and was at the cabin alone for a night. Luxuriating in the peace and quiet, I had turned off all the lights, gone to bed in my nightgown on and was on my way to dozing off to sleep. It was summer and all the windows were open with only screens between me and the outdoors and the wonderful sound of crickets.
As I fell asleep, I heard footsteps coming through the woods towards our house. I sat up in bed in the dark, frozen with fear. I listened. There was definitely a man outside and he must have known I was in the cabin alone.
I was as frightened as I've ever been in my life. I remembered the gun hidden nearby. I could hear the man breathing outside through the screens.
I remember my father teaching me that I should never ever pick up a gun, never touch it, unless I fully intended on using it.
For a split second, I hesitated, too frightened to move. And then I made the commitment. I went for the gun knowing I was going to have to use it.
When I picked it up, something deep inside me said to make loud noises. So in the darkness of that warm summer night I jumped up with the loaded gun and reached for a nearby drawer and started banging it, stomping on the floor and shouting at the top of my lungs:
"I know you're out there. I know who you are. I have a gun and am going to kill you if you come any closer." I meant what I said, just like my father taught me. There was no more hesitation.
I repeated my outburst several times, and then stood silent and shaking in my nightgown with the gun loaded, cocked and ready to fire. I held my breath. The tension inside me was unbelievable.
The stalker must have known I meant business.
Next thing I knew, I heard the man under my window turn and run away through the woods. He was gone. Never to return. Nevertheless I stood there ready for World War III for I-don't-know-how-long.
I called my husband who was a hundred miles away, and then the police. We decided I should stay put and not try to leave the house alone in the dark. I sat up in bed for the rest of the night caressing my little loaded pistol. There was no rest that night for the weary.
But the truth is, I am forever grateful that I had that pistol with me that night and was willing to use it, if I had had to.
I thank God that I didn't have to.