I’d Kill Someone to Save My Life
“I’d kill someone to save my life,” a gun-loving friend tells me for the dozenth time, and I grit my teeth and nod noncommittally. I want peace between us. It would be futile to get pulled into an argument in any case; I’m not going to change her mind; she’s not going to change mine, and I don’t want strife between us.
I don’t need to say anything anyway; my friend knows where I stand. I support reasonable restrictions on the use and sale of firearms. She’s just trying to nudge me a little over to her point of view, to make me imagine her fearful narrative— someone could be coming for me, and if I’m unarmed I’ll be at their mercy. Then I’ll wish I listened to her, or so she thinks.
She throws in an anecdote to underscore her point, telling me again about the night she was alone in her houseboat when she felt a shift, heard a noise, and peeked out to see a man pulling himself up onto the deck. She pointed her pistol at him and told him she’d fire if he came any closer. He jumped back into the water and frantically swam for the other side of the marina. The threat of deadly force saved the day!
I’ve heard similar stories from other gun lovers, and I wonder how it is that they have these stories to tell while those of us who aren’t gun…
