It was rather uncanny how the republished piece I posted yesterday about the kingdom of one-eyed people led seamlessly to this McMusing I wrote earlier in the week. That is serendipity!
Scott and I decided to go sit at a nearby lake and have a picnic lunch today. It takes some effort to think of things that we would enjoy after spending so much time in emergency rooms, hospitals, and clinics for almost a year now. It is as if we can’t remember how to enjoy life. So, we were proud of ourselves as we carried our camping chairs across the lawn to sit in the shade of a tree with a view of the lake.
We are people watchers, and there were just the right number of people to watch. Children were playing in the playground behind us, geese were eating the grass, people were walking around the lake, and sitting at picnic tables.
It all felt so relaxing and safe, until…
A police car pulled up, and an officer got out and headed toward the path around the lake. We were instantly on guard.
My thought was that the need for an officer with a weapon meant that my safety required their protection. I had a panoramic view of the park and lake from my vantage point, and could have detected any disturbance. I was naturally scanning my surroundings, and the peacefulness of that day was my indicator that I was safe.
This makes sense since I have never been threatened or harmed in a park. That would not be true for everyone and very possibly their experiences would cause them to feel safer when the officer arrived.
On the other hand, I never feel safe in a forest. Our son just completed a four-day backpacking adventure on the Pacific Coast Trail. He has also run a 100-mile race through forested areas, running through the night.
Me? No, just no. Have I ever had a frightening experience in a forest? Never. But I have heard stories and listened to many warnings. Basically, I have absorbed fears handed to me by other people. I try to ignore that when my son is running or hiking in forests—especially at night.
In a house we lived in a few years ago, Scott and I loved to sit on the front porch in the early evening and greet people as they walked by. Our neighborhood always felt safe until…
A man with a very open-carry pistol in a holster began walking with his wife and daughter.
It occurs to me that he felt safe while he was infringing on my sense of safety. He never looked our direction, and he never greeted us on the way by. He never talked with his wife and daughter as he walked. Was his only purpose in walking to ensure the safety of his family? Why was his definition of safety so very different from mine?
Every person who defends the right to bear arms in the wake of school shootings does it on the grounds that they have a right to protect themselves. What is the root of a belief so strong that they are unwilling to even regulate the sale of guns? Have they had armed men show up at their door before? That is legitimate fear. Or were they told a story of how that happened? That is being afraid of a bear in the forest that they have never walked in.
It is not worth an argument for me to inquire about this in a comment thread.
Guns do not make me feel safe. I never had them in my home. It never occurred to me that I needed to defend myself in that way since I was always harmed by people deemed safe by my community. It simply didn’t apply. One of my brothers had a pistol, and he took me target shooting. I was good at it, but I still saw no need for a gun.
Despite all this, I suppose I must concede that guns make some people feel safer. That would be true for the officer in the park or those who work in other dangerous professions. It is also likely true for those living in violent communities. And, some may have stories that cause them to feel the need for this type of protection.
It is complicated, isn’t it? People on both sides of this issue major on black and white thinking when nothing is ever that simple. I cannot imagine how complicated the fear vs. desire for guns for protection might be for those children—now adults—who have survived school shootings or other violent acts.
I have thought a lot this week about the children who hid under pews. Will they remember the pew as something that saved them or as a place where they were traumatized and possibly harmed? It can be both.
We make no progress on keeping children safe because we so differ in our definition of what would enable or prevent harm from happening. Of course we do, because someone felt safe in the park when the officer arrived while I did not. It is all about feeling safe in an unsafe world and if we could understand each others perspectives—note, I didn’t say agree—we might possibly save the lives of children. It would require legislators to work together, something that has seemingly become impossible at this point.
I still cling to hope. I can’t fix the world, but I can be curious about the reasons that others’ perspectives differ from mine. While being curious, I can also be adamant that no perspective is valid that does not prioritize caring well for the marginalized.
Here in Australia, for me, guns feel threatening. I was 12 when Martin Bryant massacred a whole lot of people at Port Arthur. In response, the whole nation got rid of as many guns as possible. I feel sorrow and horror every time America has another shooting- they seem so commonplace I don’t understand why people are allowed to do freely have guns.