The first time I remember hearing about the National Rifle Association was as a seventh grader, when a flier went around our school inviting kids to attend a gun safety class the NRA sponsored.
I knew a little about guns already. I had gone hunting with my dad a few times in the timberland acreage where he grew up. He had allowed me to pop off an occasional shot with his .22 rifle, an old-fashioned bolt-action that he’d had for many years. After I took the NRA course, I was deemed responsible enough to carry my own gun, and the .22 was deeded to me for our Saturday morning October outings.
The squirrels were in no danger. Even if I had been inclined to shoot them, my aim was too poor to threaten anything but my feet. Hunting wasn’t a moral issue for me then, nor is it now. It just wasn’t my thing.
I had more fun tromping around in the woods and shooting the occasional rusted can, which had the disadvantage of not being able to move. Pathetic hunter though I was, I still liked the way the gun felt in my hands, the sensual tug on my palm as the bullet left the chamber and the satisfying buzz of watching those Folgers cans explode. I suppose that’s why I understand the appeal of guns, even though I don’t own one and probably never will. It’s conceivable to me that shooting would be an enjoyable hobby.
One might assume, based on demographics and stereotypes, that this is a minority view among Stanford alumni. I wouldn’t venture to guess. It’s certainly true that one can favor gun control and also like guns, just as it’s possible to oppose gun laws even if you’ve never owned a firearm. Still, it’s likely that the rift between those who support stricter gun legislation and those who adamantly oppose it is based in part on their experience, or lack of it, with guns. A lot of people I know think of gun owners in two broad groupings: urban criminals and camo-clad “rednecks.” But that doesn’t include, for example, my dad, who taught high school biology for 40 years, or Sandra Froman, ’71, lawyer, NRA president and the subject of our cover story on page 42.
The gun-control debate is much too complex to suggest that a cultural divide neatly cleaves a for-or-against dichotomy. The issue is a bubbling soup of legal, philosophical and moral arguments, informed by history and Hollywood, commerce and crime, pathos and politics. What does the Second Amendment really mean? Do gun laws make any difference? How do we reconcile values of freedom and independence with concerns for the common good?
Our story doesn’t provide all the answers, but it does take a shot at the questions.
