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http://www.newsobserver.com/sports/story/634471.html
What is it about guns? Columnist finds out
Ruth Sheehan, Staff Writer
I had written about guns before.
I'd written about how they've been used, mostly illegally, by people under restraining orders for harming their wives, by people diagnosed with mental illness, by lowlife kids looking for a thrill (and killing a sheriff's deputy in the process).
But until I showed up at the Wake County Firearms Education and Training Center recently, I had never seen a gun up close.
I had never touched one.
I had never fired one.
And I sure as heck had never nailed a paper plate dead center with a 9mm Smith & Wesson. (More on that later.)
Everything I knew about guns I'd learned from Angie Dickinson and the group North Carolinians Against Gun Violence.
Maybe that's why some of the guys out at the public firing range looked less than thrilled when I walked in for my lesson.
Luckily, National Rifle Association instructor and sharpshooter Eric Shuford was willing to give me a chance.
I was set up with Shuford by my colleague, N&O outdoors editor Mike Zlotnicki, who'd been urging me to visit the range for months.
The conversation got started when I wrote about a local mother's push to get parents to ask whether there are guns in the homes their kids are visiting.
The column stirred quite a response in the gun-owning world.
Several shooters had invited me out with them, but the offers evaporated when I said yes.
Zlotnicki, who probably heard as much about that column as I did, decided to take matters into his own hands.
Or maybe he just has a perverse sense of humor.
Either way, I went through the requisite gun safety course one night in June.
And on the night before Independence Day, I drove out to Wake's very impressive range outside Apex.
I will admit to chewing one of my nails down to the quick on the way.
But the first and most enduring thing you learn about Wake's public range is that safety comes before all else.
Shuford had brought out several of his smaller guns for me to try.
We did a dry run in a classroom first, with an empty chamber, so I could learn how to line up the sights. Shuford determined I was right-eye dominant (my left eye was in a permanent squint while sighting). He showed me how to hold the gun with two hands, thumbs off to the left, finger never approaching the trigger until ready to shoot. He told me to hold my breath and pull.
Click.
Then, donning ear and eye protection, we headed out to the range.
Stereotype-busting, this was not.
There were a lot of burly guys shooting very large guns.
And I now understand why people say gunfire can be mistaken for firecrackers. In this case, nearby firecrackers.
I jumped at every noise.
Shuford ushered me to a more quiet section of the range and brought out a Smith & Wesson .22 revolver and a .22 Ruger autoloader.
I tried both, sitting down and standing up.
And though the firing underscored my fear of firearms, I also found it empowering.
The target was only five yards away, but it was thrilling to see the clusters of bullet holes appear on paper plates stapled to the cardboard.
After I'd gotten reasonably comfortable, Shuford trotted out a couple more guns. The first, a Sterling .22, showed how some of the flashy guns used on TV are inaccurate even at close range.
Shuford said that most folks, including law enforcement officers, don't spend enough time at the range to fire well anyway.
"Criminals don't worry me too much," he said.
No, I'll bet they don't.
Then Shuford helped me load a hollow-point bullet into a sleek 9mm, the kind favored by cops.
This thing felt like a serious weapon. This thing had a little bit more kickback.
Nervously, I lined up the sights and pulled the trigger.
When I managed to pry my eyes open, I discovered I had bored a bull's-eye in the paper plate.
(Angie Dickinson, kiss my foot.)
It was beginner's luck, but I think Shuford was right proud of me.
He offered for me to keep going. But after a couple of hours with Ruger and S&W, I was feeling the tension, and the weight of the guns, in my arms and shoulders.
We packed the weapons carefully and headed out to the car, chatting amiably about my education. Shooting is like any other sport, Shuford told me.
"Next time," Shuford said, "you should bring your sons."
That brought me up short.
My sons.
I know the boys would love to visit the range. They've tried riflery at camp. No doubt they'd love to try this as well.
The range's emphasis on safety would be good for young men who have informed me they were born with the ability to make AK-47 sounds.
Still, I fear fueling a fascination with firearms in the boys.
I can't shake the image of one of them at a friend's house, finding a gun and "showing" his friends how to use it.
Still, I might be persuaded to go back out to the range myself. Who knows? I may end up with a concealed-carry permit.
Whatever happens, one thing is sure: I'll be hanging my 9mm paper plate here at my desk.
I wish I'd had it during the Duke lacrosse debacle.
I like the idea that bloggers -- and editors -- don't know for sure whether I might be packing heat.
I think I'll keep it that way.
