Long many years ago when my youngest son was still an infant there was an incident where I wish I was wise enough to have been locked in.
Guns and the predicament one finds themselves is completely by circumstance.
We lived in a house about 150 feet in from the road accessed by a driveway. The drive went around the back of the house and for the most part the back door was more or less the main door to the house. There were three steps to the back door and then a screen door. Once inside the screen door there was a breeze way where at the far end was a cabinet where ammunition and hunting guns were kept.
The breeze way was about thirty feet by ten. After entering the back door and walking across the breeze way there was a door to the house. Now the screen door to the outside was not the only door, there was also a hardwood door with four glass windows to match the door to the inside of the house which entered into a family room / dining area. The house was all wood construction and it was a good old house.
This was a sunny day in spring about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. No lie and no coincidence to the Boston tragedy. Truth, promise. The two wooden doors were open to allow air to circulate through the house with the screen door closed of course. The baby was asleep upstairs and my toddler was playing in the corner of the family room. I was in the kitchen beginning dinner.
All of a sudden, my toddler yelled, "Mommy" and I turned around to find a man the size of a mountain standing in the room between myself and my son. It was not my husband. I was startled and he took his badge out and introduced himself. I stated, "Shouldn't you have knocked first." I walked over to my son and picked him up, he was not as startled as I was.
The officer was a detective. He stated I was lucky to be alive. See, the house sat on a few acres with a stream running through it, pasture for horses and a densely wooded area along the back pasture. The horses were in barn at that time after being out for awhile that morning through early afternoon. I didn't appreciate his statement until he asked me to sit down and searched the house.
I don't remember where the dog was, but, for as good a watch dog as she was she didn't let out a peep that day. I suppose he approached her and pet her to submission. The detective had locked the outside and inside doors after he entered.
He came back downstairs and told me there was a bank robbery that day. The man had been on a cross country motorcycle and they didn't know where he was except they were searching the entire area. The robber was armed and dangerous. I remember how I felt. I was drained, scared and grateful all at the same time. The detective told me to keep the dog inside, keep the doors locked and if anything at all was to bring my attention to something odd I was to call. He said he could be reached at any time by calling the number on his card and to check later to be sure all was clear.
I followed him out to the porch and promised I would do nothing else, except, tend to my children, stay inside and keep the doors locked. I turned as he waited for me to enter the house again as he was getting in his unmarked car. I closed the breeze way door and turned to go inside and it hit me. Oh, dear god, the guns.
I walked to the end of the breeze way behind a now locked door and opened the cabinet. They were there. All three of them including a 12 gauge double barrel shot gun which was used for hunting. I didn't recall if all the ammunition was there, I had supposed it was, there was no real inventory.
I closed the door to the cabinet and then went inside. I locked the inside door and it seemed as though forever before my husband came home. I realize I was a lucky woman that day. I was not shot or killed by the weapons in my own house. My sons were safe and my husband was home.
The robber was caught about a mile away within the hour after the detective had left. My husband called the phone number on the card and it was a police officer that answered. The police officer explained we were safe, but, to remember it was always better to keep the doors locked even on the sunniest of days.
I do know how it feels to be in a home where it is a safe haven and by the luck of the draw to be alive. There are many scenarios that could have occurred that day, but, didn't. I had very well trained officers who knew exactly what they were doing. They saved my life and the lives of my children. So, when I hear Mr. LaPierre state all those folks in Watertown and the Boston area are probably wishing they had a gun that day; he is grossly wrong.
You see, fighting a gunman well armed, dangerous and capable is a completely different ball game than anyone can imagine. And to realize that danger lurks at the most inopportune times is a reality I wish on no one.
I find Mr. LaPierre's statements offensive and characteristically crude.
People died in Boston. They died on a sunny spring day when they never expected it. That violence was facilitated in the USA through the easy access to weapons and munitions. We don't have to live in a country that dangerous, but, thanks to Mr. LaPierre and his convention addicts, we do.
Guns and the predicament one finds themselves is completely by circumstance.
We lived in a house about 150 feet in from the road accessed by a driveway. The drive went around the back of the house and for the most part the back door was more or less the main door to the house. There were three steps to the back door and then a screen door. Once inside the screen door there was a breeze way where at the far end was a cabinet where ammunition and hunting guns were kept.
The breeze way was about thirty feet by ten. After entering the back door and walking across the breeze way there was a door to the house. Now the screen door to the outside was not the only door, there was also a hardwood door with four glass windows to match the door to the inside of the house which entered into a family room / dining area. The house was all wood construction and it was a good old house.
This was a sunny day in spring about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. No lie and no coincidence to the Boston tragedy. Truth, promise. The two wooden doors were open to allow air to circulate through the house with the screen door closed of course. The baby was asleep upstairs and my toddler was playing in the corner of the family room. I was in the kitchen beginning dinner.
All of a sudden, my toddler yelled, "Mommy" and I turned around to find a man the size of a mountain standing in the room between myself and my son. It was not my husband. I was startled and he took his badge out and introduced himself. I stated, "Shouldn't you have knocked first." I walked over to my son and picked him up, he was not as startled as I was.
The officer was a detective. He stated I was lucky to be alive. See, the house sat on a few acres with a stream running through it, pasture for horses and a densely wooded area along the back pasture. The horses were in barn at that time after being out for awhile that morning through early afternoon. I didn't appreciate his statement until he asked me to sit down and searched the house.
I don't remember where the dog was, but, for as good a watch dog as she was she didn't let out a peep that day. I suppose he approached her and pet her to submission. The detective had locked the outside and inside doors after he entered.
He came back downstairs and told me there was a bank robbery that day. The man had been on a cross country motorcycle and they didn't know where he was except they were searching the entire area. The robber was armed and dangerous. I remember how I felt. I was drained, scared and grateful all at the same time. The detective told me to keep the dog inside, keep the doors locked and if anything at all was to bring my attention to something odd I was to call. He said he could be reached at any time by calling the number on his card and to check later to be sure all was clear.I followed him out to the porch and promised I would do nothing else, except, tend to my children, stay inside and keep the doors locked. I turned as he waited for me to enter the house again as he was getting in his unmarked car. I closed the breeze way door and turned to go inside and it hit me. Oh, dear god, the guns.
I walked to the end of the breeze way behind a now locked door and opened the cabinet. They were there. All three of them including a 12 gauge double barrel shot gun which was used for hunting. I didn't recall if all the ammunition was there, I had supposed it was, there was no real inventory.
I closed the door to the cabinet and then went inside. I locked the inside door and it seemed as though forever before my husband came home. I realize I was a lucky woman that day. I was not shot or killed by the weapons in my own house. My sons were safe and my husband was home.
The robber was caught about a mile away within the hour after the detective had left. My husband called the phone number on the card and it was a police officer that answered. The police officer explained we were safe, but, to remember it was always better to keep the doors locked even on the sunniest of days.
I do know how it feels to be in a home where it is a safe haven and by the luck of the draw to be alive. There are many scenarios that could have occurred that day, but, didn't. I had very well trained officers who knew exactly what they were doing. They saved my life and the lives of my children. So, when I hear Mr. LaPierre state all those folks in Watertown and the Boston area are probably wishing they had a gun that day; he is grossly wrong.
You see, fighting a gunman well armed, dangerous and capable is a completely different ball game than anyone can imagine. And to realize that danger lurks at the most inopportune times is a reality I wish on no one.
I find Mr. LaPierre's statements offensive and characteristically crude.
People died in Boston. They died on a sunny spring day when they never expected it. That violence was facilitated in the USA through the easy access to weapons and munitions. We don't have to live in a country that dangerous, but, thanks to Mr. LaPierre and his convention addicts, we do.
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