Since the beginning of the pandemic, Suzanne and I haven’t been venturing out like we normally have in the past. We’ve enjoyed spending more time at home, but we knew it was time to get out of the casa for a Weird Date Night. A Pandemic Weird Date Night, in fact. But what does one do for a Weird Date in a pandemic? I don’t know what y’all would do, but about a month ago I told Suzanne that for our next Weird Date Night, we were going to take a Concealed Firearm Permit class—which we did last night. It’s not the most romantic thing to do, but see how happy we were to be learning about gun laws.
That might not seem like a “weird” thing to do to those of you who know me and my gun-y family. We had guns coming out the rafters. A gun here, a gun there, here a gun, there a gun, everywhere a gun, gun. My family hunted and fished and hunted some more. It is not much of an exaggeration to say that my dad killed a coyote every darn morning of his life before heading to Top’s Cafe for his morning cup o’ Joe.
Suzanne, on the other hand, had never shot a gun in her life before I took her target shooting with a quaint .22 rifle, in Millard County in the 80’s. She’s never shot a gun since. And I myself did not carry the hunting bug into my adulthood. I killed pheasants and rabbits and a deer in my teens, then I was done with the whole thing. I have no problems with ethical gun use and hunting. Guns just weren’t my thing. I haven’t owned a gun as an adult until very recently.
I’ve been around, folks. I lived in the Washington, D. C. area for 8 years in the 90’s. I taught in inner city Baltimore schools at a time when Baltimore was the murder capitol of the country. I have traveled bigly. And I have never felt the stirring need to own—let alone carry—a gun. Until now.
Why the change of mind? Two reasons: toilet paper and face masks. In short, there are some absolute nuts out there, boys and girls. Fisticuffs are flying over toilet paper. There are people throwing punches over the wearin’ o’ face masks. FACE MASKS, PEOPLE! We are so spoiled we are starting a grumbling civil war over a tiny piece of material and a few inches of elastic. If face masks are the biggest threat to American freedom in our current culture, we are in a heckuva lot more trouble than we can even imagine. If warring about face masks is the thing most worthy of our time in a pandemic, I dare say we have too much time on our hands—and we aren’t using it wisely.
Some of us have lost perspective. Being inconvenienced by wearing a face mask to keep your possibly infectious breath and spittle from flying into another person’s personal space is not equivalent to losing a Constitutional right. To say it is the same, trivializes our hard-fought-for Constitutional rights. Every Constitutional right is made possible only by what I will call our “Constitutional responsibilities” to our fellow Americans. That’s my sermon, and I’m sticking to it.
Trust me—I haven’t lost perspective. I know what’s truly important. Honeycomb Bow Tie o’ the Day is what’s important. I’ll wear it on my face if I have to.