I grew up in a family of non-hunters. Apparently we were gatherers.
I was never exposed to guns. For all of you who believe NJ is the wild west in terms of violence that may be hard to believe but it's true. I never saw a gun until I moved to PA when I was in my early 30's. We moved here Labor Day weekend. The first Monday after Thanksgiving when the kids were home from school, I asked my neighbor why the schools were closed. She told me it's because it was the first day of hunting season. I laughed and asked again why the schools were closed. She repeated her first response. Oh. Really? Gulp.
Sometime later that week, (three year old) Meghan and I went to our local KMart to purchase something (which I likely didn't find because I never find what I want at KMart but that's another story). When we were in the parking lot a station wagon pulled in with a deer tied to the roof. Blood from the deer was running down the side of the vehicle. I looked at Meghan and said "We're not in Kansas anymore".
Fast forward 23 years. My company hosts a customer appreciation day each year. We transport our customers to Pintail Point on Maryland's eastern shore for a day of shooting, fishing, golfing or shopping and lunching. Last year, to challenge myself, I decided to sign up for the shooting event. I was a nervous wreck about it but I get seasick so didn't want to fish; I stink at golf and didn't want to embarrass myself and also annoy the serious golfers in the group and I wanted to do something other than shop and eat.
One of our customers owns a gun shop. He brought some extra guns for the non-hunters among us. I have no memory of the type of gun I had. Was it a rifle? A shotgun? Who the heck knows? All I know is I trembled the entire morning. I had no idea what I was doing and was afraid I'd hurt someone. The gun shop owner was in my group. He was a kind, patient man and taught me how to use the gun, how to aim it, and how to handle it safely. The morning's shooting session lasted about two hours. I don't recall if I hit any clays. If I did it was pure luck. We returned to the 'lodge' for lunch. I was still a nervous wreck and had difficulty eating. It's hard to swallow when you have a lump in your throat. I spent the entire lunch hour talking myself into and out of going back out to shoot. I DID NOT want to go back out there with that gun. But it was a customer event, I was a 'host' and I had committed myself to the event so I put my big girl pants on and went back out there.
I'm glad I did. Sometime during the first hour of the afternoon I relaxed and settled into the routine of taking my turn at shooting clays. I even hit a few! By the end of the afternoon I was hitting them somewhat regularly. At the last spot (hole, venue, what the heck do they call it?) we were allowed to take as many shots as we wanted. I hit quite a few and it was fun. I hit more clays at that hole than one of my co-workers who has hunted all of his life. He got aggravated watching me and eventually asked to borrow my gun. I guess he thought it was a magical gun because certainly I couldn't have acquired shooting skills so quickly. I think he wanted to use my gun so he could hit a few clays and save his manly ego.
This clay is a souvenir from that day. Our guide gave it to me because I'd made so much progress during the day. I'm glad I did it but I hope I never have to handle a gun again.
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