PUBLICATION:
The
Toronto Sun
DATE:
2004.02.12
EDITION:
Final
SECTION:
Editorial/Opinion
PAGE:
16
BYLINE:
LINDA WILLIAMSON
DATELINE: BURLINGTON
COLUMN:
Second Thoughts
ILLUSTRATION:
photo
by Ernest Doroszuk SAFETY FIRST... Aaron Burns shows columnist Linda Williamson
how to handle a handgun - a .22 Ruger Mark II - for the first time.
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READY,
AIMED AND FEARLESS: GUNS AND GUN OWNERS AREN'T SCARY, OUR LINDA LEARNS - BUT GUN
CRIMINALS ARE
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Modern
pyschobabble tells us the best way to deal with fears is to confront them. And
let's face it, this country suffers from a national hangup about guns. On behalf
of squeamish Canadians everywhere, then, I've decided to take up arms.
I'm
holding in my hands the same type of firearms too many young thugs in Toronto
now carry, in the memorable words of a local pastor, "like we used to carry
bubble gum." Handguns, long
guns, you name it - I'm locked and loaded and ready to learn.
And
yes, to do all this, I'm fraternizing (gasp!) with actual gun owners in their
natural habitat - a gun club in the suburbs well away from Toronto's
bullet-riddled streets.
My
guide to all this firepower is Aaron Burns, a soft-spoken gun enthusiast who
grew up around rifles and only got his first pistol three years ago. Now he
target-shoots as a hobby and turns novices like me on to it whenever he can.
As
Burns drills me on the cardinal rules of gun safety, I can't help noticing the
clubhouse walls are festooned with anti-gun-registry propaganda. "Twenty
years ago it was just about shooting for fun," says Burns. "Now
everything's political."
It's
easy to understand why. With every news story in the Toronto papers about
gangsters and their ill-gotten guns, these hobbyists feel the noose of
government regulations - and public anger - tighten around them instead.
The
myriad restrictions of federal firearms laws - some of them quite sensible;
others just silly - weigh heavily on this place, as does the thought in the back
of every member's mind that the "bad guys" out there don't bother with
the niceties of "gun control."
But
here, it's all rules, all the time. There are no trigger-happy yahoos here -
just serious collectors getting together to share their passion, the same way
other men (and on this day, they all happen to be men) do with cars or golf
clubs.
I
fear nothing from them. But I'm not so sure about the guns.
So
I start with a relatively unthreatening .22-calibre handgun, a silver Ruger Mark
II. I've got it clenched securely in two hands, straight arms and back braced
against the recoil - yet I'm still not prepared for the force when I fire.
MOVIES
LIE
Yikes.
Every gun scene in every movie I've ever seen is a lie. You don't just point and
shoot these things like you do in a video game. This is serious. My wrist hurts
already.
With
shaking hands, I work my way up through a classic Smith and Wesson .45 revolver
(which nearly knocks me over), a sci-fi-looking Desert Eagle .357 Magnum (cool,
but way too heavy for me), and a so-called "James Bond-style" gun: a
.40-cal Walther P99 that feels light and comfortable - until I pull the trigger
and it nearly flies out of my grip.
I
have better luck with long guns, especially a sweet little Ruger .22 rifle and a
comparatively scary-looking assault-type HLK SL8. (The latter is the sort of gun
the public deems "evil," Burns says ruefully, because it's sleek,
black and has semi-automatic capability - but truth be told, I find it
exhilarating to fire and satisfyingly accurate, though it's near-deafening.)
"You're
a natural with a rifle," Burns approves as I pump - a little more calmly
now - 20 rounds from the .22 into the black centre of the target. Emboldened, I
return to the light but aggressively snappy Walther, hoping to do better. I do,
but pay for it later - my right wrist throbs for the rest of the day.
I
do feel, just as Burns promised, a "surge of adrenaline" with every
shot, and my focus sharpening as I try to block out all distractions between me
and my target. I have a glimpse of the allure of shooting, even if I'm not quite
ready to ask for a pistol for Valentine's Day. (Burns helpfully recommends a
lighter Ruger .22 for me, but I still prefer roses to guns.)
Mostly,
though, I've learned a lot about fear - particularly the fears city folks
(especially women) have of guns and the people who use them.
Yes,
guns are fearsome things. Like chainsaws, axes or rottweilers, they need to be
handled with respect. Nowhere is that better understood than at a gun club,
where everyone keeps a strict eye on everyone else, ensuring safe shooting (and
reminding the rookie from The Sun to stop turning her gun dangerously sideways
to look at it).
Handling
these guns drove home for me like never before just how unpredictable and
dangerous a gun can be in the hands of people who have no idea what they're
doing.
There
are hundreds of punks like that on our streets right now - shooting like idiots
into cars and even people's houses - and not one of 'em has a firearms license.
Now that's something to fear.