I was 12 years old the first time that I ever held a gun and I will never forget it. I did not feel like a man.
An older friend of mine named Reginald told me and my older brother that he had a gun and asked us if we wanted to see it and shoot it. I was really scared, but my brother was fascinated with the thought of holding and firing a gun. I put on my older, brave face and said that I was “down.” We went up to the roof of Reginald’s building and each and every step that I took up that stairwell made me more fearful. But I was excited too.
Reginald took out the .38 “snub nose” from his pocket and showed it to us. I held it in my hand and a feeling of fear and excitement swept over me. It was heavier and smaller than I imagined. But the one thought that would not escape me was that this gun was an instrument of death. In my mind the only logical conclusion to gun possession was murder and mayhem. I was scared, as should a 12 year old be.
Reginald took the gun, pointed it in the air (at an angle), stiff armed, and turned his head to the ground and fired. “Crack!” (Actual gun fire does not sound like the movies.) It was impressive. We stood in awe for a moment. Fear continued to grip me. Somebody said to look over the side of the roof and see if there were any police. Thank God that there were police in the area and we decided to go downstairs. I can not convey how relieved I was to get out of the building that day. I was no closer to becoming a man than when I first trekked up those stairs.
In retrospect I think that at the time I was more of a man than Dave in Wright’s “The Man Who was almost a Man.” He felt like the only thing that could get him respect and freedom was to own and wield a gun. He didn’t realize that this external item would not change who he was but only what he possessed. Had he realized that he needed to change himself in order to become a man then it would have saved him a lot of mental anguish. He would have come to realize that manhood comes from realizing and accepting responsibility for one’s actions and that people respect dignity and honor, not cowardice and immaturity.
I don’t need a gun to be a man because I am going to live and die on my own merits.
Great story, well told. I’m enjoying your blog very much.