Guns

When I was in cold and rainy England last October (weather very similar to the last three weeks in NH, alas), I remember having a conversation with someone about America or something. I can't remember any of the details of the conversation (who, where, how much I'd had to drink), but I remember that I had the impression that this person thought that all Americans were gun-totin'. I said that I didn't have a gun at home, nor did I know anyone who did. The person was visibly relieved to have that stereotype dispelled.

Well, I'm afraid I need to amend my statement. I certainly do not have a gun of any shape or size, nor do I intend to EVER have one. But, this morning I climbed into the truck of the my brother's construction sidekick (I was doing some dry walling for my brother), and noticed something sitting on the floor at my feet. "Is that a HOLSTER???" Yes, a holster for a handgun. I asked no further questions about it, but sat in disbelief for a few minutes. The question that mostly went flying through my head repeatedly was "Why, why, WHY?!"

Not necessarily how I thought I would be starting my day.