Finding a Safe Zone

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There are mobile safe zones in America. One is “with me”. When you’re with me, wherever I go, you’re safe. The same is true of (almost all of) my friends, because they are strong, trained, brave, and loyal. 
There are safe towns in America where people respect each other’s rights. These towns feature people who, almost to a man/woman, take responsibility for their actions, earn their own bread and ask nothing but to be free. They inevitably are armed to the teeth. The young men and women go through the NRA safety courses and are taught at a young age to use tools necessary for their survival. They learn to change a car tire, to mow the lawn and to shoot a firearm accurately. None of these people are victims. None of them will “occupy” public space and crap on the lawn. If they gather for a public purpose, they will pick up trash after themselves. If there is a bad apple in their midst, they sort that out.
When I was a young man, visitors came to town from the big city and we went to the local market to buy food or something. The clerk took their check without asking for ID or anything. The visitor questioned this practice and the clerk said, “you’re with Larry.” Honesty and honor carry weight in places like that. Those places still exist in America (though there are fewer now than there were).
None of those places are gun free zones.
Many years ago when I stayed in England’s Lake District, I found an area of sheltered villages, peaceful and quiet, where people lived lives far from the need for firearms. To secure that peace, rough men defended the Island through sending armies and navies abroad. If they hadn’t, German would have been the lingua franca of the Island. The point is this, the world is not a safe place unless we make it safe for ourselves, those we love and for our posterity. Unfortunately, in this era, the only way to do that is to make it hard enough that nobody would dare broach the peace.

24 thoughts on “Finding a Safe Zone

  1. Twice I've left my purse in the Walmart shopping cart (I know – don't say it) out in the parking lot. I didn't get too far away before I returned. Both times the purse was turned into customer service. Try that in a big city.

    And………wait for it – just a few days ago, as I returned to my car in the grocery store parking lot, I purposefully looked at my purse and said to self, "Don't leave that in the cart" You guessed it. It's exactly what I did. A nice gentleman walking between my car and his ran back and said, "Are you sure you don't want that?"

    Moral of the story is that I'm an idiot, and we still have good people in our town.

  2. I've tromped the ground up where you live and it's the sort of place that I'm speaking about. Of course, when they relocate the Syrians there, conditions may change.

  3. I grew up in an area similar to what you describe.

    It's cahnged dramatically in the years since.

    My best buddy who still lives there was out mowing his lawn a few months back, and a bunch of punks went by and shot him several times with a paint ball gun.

    The punks were very lucky in that he wasn't wearing his 1911, but it sure woke up my buddy.

    He's armed 24/7 now, even when mowing his lawn…..

  4. I wasn't so lucky 'cause I grew up in Manhattan. When I moved to Florida, I brought my big city spidey sense with me no matter how bucolic the surroundings. My situational awareness has often been mocked, but it's always there… just in case.

  5. Where I attended high school (50+ years ago) there were enough long arms in the back windows of unlocked pickups to equip an infantry platoon. Of course they were loaded (what damn use is an empty rifle?) and the high school kids knew how to shoot. I know of a couple of small Colorado towns that are still like that.

  6. I grew up in a world like that. All the men had gun racks in the pickup and pistols under the car seat. Yet no one ever had to use one. And like Cheers, everybody knew your name. I had a couple dozen mothers, too. We had a good, fun life, but if you messed up, you would answer to the closest mom and get it good when you got home. TV was a side thought. The woods called.

  7. Now the X-Box game calls, and when you get big enough (and your parents still support you financially while you live in the basement), you can go occupy something and march with black livesmatters, calling for the murder of police officers.

  8. If you don't know how to change a flat tire (even on a motorcycle), mow a lawn or fix a burnt out fuse, are afraid of guns and are male, I have absolutely no use for you, and you shouldn't be breathing my air.

  9. You should also be able to clean a fish, clean and pluck a chicken and do a number of other mundane tasks. In a para-military govt. training class I attended that took place on the banks of the James River in tidewater Virginia, one requirement for passage was to kill, skin, cook and eat a rabbit.

    They handed out rabbits (and there was instruction before the rabbits were passed around). I simply grabbed mine by the back legs, swung its head into a rock, cut it's throat, let it bleed out, while I started my fire. A number of the men (Old School Tie types) balked and were still petting their rabbits while I had completed the task and was eating mine…

  10. It would be more appropriate to wear one of those t-shirts that says, I'm with stupid, with an arrow pointing toward me.

  11. My right hand is my gun hand. Plan on standing on my left side…unless I decide to shoot left-handed. Then reverse the plan.

  12. The silliest thing I hear from students is how "afraid" they become when they find out that I conceal carry. They've been indoctrinated to think that the gun itself is dangerous, so by extension, I become dangerous. The ones that get it understand that they are far safer with me than without. Those students are getting to be few and far between.

  13. A hammer is dangerous. So is a machete. Tomahawks are dangerous too. A 2000 lbs car going 70 mph, filled with gasoline is no small thing either.

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