Gary L. Griffiths
New member
Hi, all. For some time now, I've had some of the following thoughts floating around in my head. Decided to see if I could put them together for an essay on concealed carry, that I will see if I can get published. I know it's a bit long, 'cause I've thrown in everything but the kitchen sink. Would appreciate your thoughts on anything else I should include, or anything I should throw out.
Thanks!
I walk among you. I'm no one you would notice. You see people who look like me every day of your life. In point of fact, I'm an older guy, a little overweight, and a lot out of shape. I don't look any different from anyone you might see on the street, or in the mall. But I am different. Very different. I carry a gun. And I do it legally. I jump through hoops every year to keep my qualification up. Just like most concealed carriers jump through hoops to get their concealed weapons permits. It doesn't guarantee that I'm a good guy. But if I were planning to commit a crime with a gun, I wouldn't be concerned about the additional minor crime of carrying without a permit. I would darn sure be concerned about the authorities knowing that I have a gun, in the first place.
I take pains to keep my weapon concealed. It's not that I am ashamed of carrying it; it's largely out of regard for you. I don't wish to alarm or frighten you. Because I'm no threat to you or your family. Perhaps I'm that guy you chatted with the other day, when you asked my opinion about which tie I thought your husband might like best. You never knew that you were within reach of a loaded .45 Automatic the entire time we were talking. It never once leaped out of its holster to frighten you. Nor do I recall it whispering in my ear, "Take me out and shoot her!" The gun isn't good or evil. It's just something I carry on my belt, like my cell phone.
I don't carry because I'm looking for trouble, any more than you have a fire extinguisher in your kitchen because you're planning to set a fire. I carry it so that if there is trouble, I can control or stop it before I, my family, or an innocent third person, such as you, get hurt. You say that concept frightens you. What if I get into a gunfight in the mall, where you and your family are shopping? What if one of your children gets into the line of fire and gets shot? I can tell you that's extremely unlikely to happen, because I'm careful, a skilled shooter, and would shoot only as a last resort, with a clear background. Still, I can't assure you that one of the bad guy's shots wouldn't hit one of your family, or, with 100% certainty, that one of mine wouldn't. You say that's your worst nightmare. Trust me, it isn't. Your worst nightmare just got out of prison after being convicted of child molestation, and he's walking through the mall right now. But he's learned his lesson. This time he won't leave his victim alive to testify against him. But he'll have his fun first. A lot of fun. You don't like to think about people like that being out there. But they are. I know. I used to hunt them. And I know exactly what they're capable of doing to your child. But it won't happen on my watch. No predatory pedophile is going to drag one of your children, screaming and kicking, out of the mall if I'm there to stop it. The chances of your child dying when I confront this animal are remote, but they are greater than zero. But would you rather I stand idly by to let your child die later, after hours of fear and agony? I didn't think so.
I'm not everywhere, but I'm around more often than you think. Maybe I'm the guy at the Trolley Square Mall who used my off-duty weapon to engage an armed psychopath with a shotgun and several hundred shells, keeping his attention focused on me until the police could arrive and bring him down. If your family was there, one of them might have been hurt by his shots, or even by mine. But can you honestly say you'd rather he had been left to just casually walk around shooting people until the police arrived? What chance would your children have had without me? Or maybe I'm the guy down in Texas who engaged a soon-to-be-divorced husband who shot and killed his wife, then tried to kill his son. My bullets kept him from succeeding. True, I lost my life in the effort, but risking my life to save a life was a calculated decision I made long ago. I would do it again, if the situation were to repeat itself. But I would try to shoot more accurately.
I help protect you and your family every day, whether you realize it or not. Whether you want me to, or not. Violent predators don't know whether the guy they're targeting is me, or someone like me. The more of us there are, the greater their chances of meeting up with a bullet instead of a payoff. Where only cops and retired cops like me are able to carry weapons, their chances of meeting armed resistance are greatly diminished. Is it any wonder then, that places with the tightest gun restrictions suffer the highest rate of violent crime? Kinda proves the fallacy of the "More Guns equals More Crime" theory, doesn't it?
But even though I'm around you a lot more than you think, I'm still fairly rare. So what's likely to happen if your psycho ex-husband grabs you in the mall and drags you out by your hair, while bystanders gape but don't interfere? Even if one of them has the presence of mind to call 911 on their cell phone, as the old saying goes: "When seconds count, the police are only minutes away." And if by some miracle dispatch gets it right the first time and there's a squad car a block away, the last thing you ever hear may be approaching sirens. That very thing happened not long ago, if I remember correctly, near our nation's capital. In reporting the resulting murder-suicide, the papers lamented that the woman had done everything she could do. She'd changed her address, telephone number, and had gotten a restraining order. But no, they got it wrong. She didn't do everything she could have done. She didn't buy a gun, learn how to use it, and obtain a concealed carry permit. If she had, she might have saved her own life that day. Perhaps even two lives.
So remember, even if you don't like guns; even if you're deathly afraid of guns, I walk among you. You've met me, or others like me on hundreds, if not thousands of occasions. And you've never been hurt by one of us. And maybe, just maybe, the reason you haven't been touched by violence, is because of us.
Copyright (C) Gary L. Griffiths, 2009
Permission is hereby granted to use this essay for the purpose of promoting safe concealed carry of firearms, provided quotes are not taken out of context and credit is given to the author.
Thanks!
I walk among you. I'm no one you would notice. You see people who look like me every day of your life. In point of fact, I'm an older guy, a little overweight, and a lot out of shape. I don't look any different from anyone you might see on the street, or in the mall. But I am different. Very different. I carry a gun. And I do it legally. I jump through hoops every year to keep my qualification up. Just like most concealed carriers jump through hoops to get their concealed weapons permits. It doesn't guarantee that I'm a good guy. But if I were planning to commit a crime with a gun, I wouldn't be concerned about the additional minor crime of carrying without a permit. I would darn sure be concerned about the authorities knowing that I have a gun, in the first place.
I take pains to keep my weapon concealed. It's not that I am ashamed of carrying it; it's largely out of regard for you. I don't wish to alarm or frighten you. Because I'm no threat to you or your family. Perhaps I'm that guy you chatted with the other day, when you asked my opinion about which tie I thought your husband might like best. You never knew that you were within reach of a loaded .45 Automatic the entire time we were talking. It never once leaped out of its holster to frighten you. Nor do I recall it whispering in my ear, "Take me out and shoot her!" The gun isn't good or evil. It's just something I carry on my belt, like my cell phone.
I don't carry because I'm looking for trouble, any more than you have a fire extinguisher in your kitchen because you're planning to set a fire. I carry it so that if there is trouble, I can control or stop it before I, my family, or an innocent third person, such as you, get hurt. You say that concept frightens you. What if I get into a gunfight in the mall, where you and your family are shopping? What if one of your children gets into the line of fire and gets shot? I can tell you that's extremely unlikely to happen, because I'm careful, a skilled shooter, and would shoot only as a last resort, with a clear background. Still, I can't assure you that one of the bad guy's shots wouldn't hit one of your family, or, with 100% certainty, that one of mine wouldn't. You say that's your worst nightmare. Trust me, it isn't. Your worst nightmare just got out of prison after being convicted of child molestation, and he's walking through the mall right now. But he's learned his lesson. This time he won't leave his victim alive to testify against him. But he'll have his fun first. A lot of fun. You don't like to think about people like that being out there. But they are. I know. I used to hunt them. And I know exactly what they're capable of doing to your child. But it won't happen on my watch. No predatory pedophile is going to drag one of your children, screaming and kicking, out of the mall if I'm there to stop it. The chances of your child dying when I confront this animal are remote, but they are greater than zero. But would you rather I stand idly by to let your child die later, after hours of fear and agony? I didn't think so.
I'm not everywhere, but I'm around more often than you think. Maybe I'm the guy at the Trolley Square Mall who used my off-duty weapon to engage an armed psychopath with a shotgun and several hundred shells, keeping his attention focused on me until the police could arrive and bring him down. If your family was there, one of them might have been hurt by his shots, or even by mine. But can you honestly say you'd rather he had been left to just casually walk around shooting people until the police arrived? What chance would your children have had without me? Or maybe I'm the guy down in Texas who engaged a soon-to-be-divorced husband who shot and killed his wife, then tried to kill his son. My bullets kept him from succeeding. True, I lost my life in the effort, but risking my life to save a life was a calculated decision I made long ago. I would do it again, if the situation were to repeat itself. But I would try to shoot more accurately.
I help protect you and your family every day, whether you realize it or not. Whether you want me to, or not. Violent predators don't know whether the guy they're targeting is me, or someone like me. The more of us there are, the greater their chances of meeting up with a bullet instead of a payoff. Where only cops and retired cops like me are able to carry weapons, their chances of meeting armed resistance are greatly diminished. Is it any wonder then, that places with the tightest gun restrictions suffer the highest rate of violent crime? Kinda proves the fallacy of the "More Guns equals More Crime" theory, doesn't it?
But even though I'm around you a lot more than you think, I'm still fairly rare. So what's likely to happen if your psycho ex-husband grabs you in the mall and drags you out by your hair, while bystanders gape but don't interfere? Even if one of them has the presence of mind to call 911 on their cell phone, as the old saying goes: "When seconds count, the police are only minutes away." And if by some miracle dispatch gets it right the first time and there's a squad car a block away, the last thing you ever hear may be approaching sirens. That very thing happened not long ago, if I remember correctly, near our nation's capital. In reporting the resulting murder-suicide, the papers lamented that the woman had done everything she could do. She'd changed her address, telephone number, and had gotten a restraining order. But no, they got it wrong. She didn't do everything she could have done. She didn't buy a gun, learn how to use it, and obtain a concealed carry permit. If she had, she might have saved her own life that day. Perhaps even two lives.
So remember, even if you don't like guns; even if you're deathly afraid of guns, I walk among you. You've met me, or others like me on hundreds, if not thousands of occasions. And you've never been hurt by one of us. And maybe, just maybe, the reason you haven't been touched by violence, is because of us.
Copyright (C) Gary L. Griffiths, 2009
Permission is hereby granted to use this essay for the purpose of promoting safe concealed carry of firearms, provided quotes are not taken out of context and credit is given to the author.