Sage of Seattle
Member
- Joined
- May 24, 2006
- Messages
- 773
I wrote the following several weeks ago for a different thread, then decided not to post it. A very close friend of mine persuaded me to reconsider, especially moreso in light of the tragedy which occurred yesterday.
Please don't misunderstand after reading what I wrote; I fully support RKBA and am angered that students and faculty were effectively disarmed that day. However, as has been brought up many times since yesterday morning, how is it that no one seemed able or willing to fight back, even if it meant their death?
These are my thoughts on the issue. Be gentle!
Please don't misunderstand after reading what I wrote; I fully support RKBA and am angered that students and faculty were effectively disarmed that day. However, as has been brought up many times since yesterday morning, how is it that no one seemed able or willing to fight back, even if it meant their death?
These are my thoughts on the issue. Be gentle!
I have always appreciated reading others’ opinions on these sorts of scenarios and I always read every post in these “what if” threads because it helps me to shape and hone my own sense of morality, right and wrong, action and inaction.
I would ask for your indulgence for a few minutes to tell my story; it bears directly on this topic:
About five years ago, I had some abdominal surgery; the complications from that surgery put me in a hospital bed for three years and almost killed me three separate times. I’m still in a wheelchair five years later. (As an aside, I’m doing physical rehab and will be walking again before the summer! Yay!) My daughter was six I believe when all of this happened – when she was told her father wouldn’t live past the week due to liver failure (the second time I almost died). I saw first-hand how my death would impact my daughter and the rest of my family.
Once I collapsed and was hospitalized for an (then) unknown time, I eventually lost almost everything – my car, my job, my home; my health and the use of my legs; my friends almost without exception abandoned me. I had lost my faith. I was reduced to living in a 15x20 foot room with a roommate for those three years. My family was my saving grace.
Another thing I lost, however, was my fear. I lost my hopelessness, if that makes sense, for I realized, for me, the most important lesson of life: now is the only time we have. The future is unknowable and distant. The past has influences, yet no control.
I learned that we all die sometime, for something. So what then is important? What could I possibly pass onto my daughter? What would I wish she to know, to learn from me?
I don’t know for sure. All I can think of is that if I were faced with a scenario such like the Luby’s restaurant in Texas, I would intervene on someone else's behalf. If I died during that encounter, I pray fervently that my little girl would someday understand that the manner of my death was important to me; to sacrifice myself for someone isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Soldiers do it; police officers do it; firefighters rush into burning buildings to rescue people every day at great risk to themselves. No, it isn’t my job to do these things. But that’s where the moral question comes into play. I refuse to be a victim, yet I have no judgement, in the moment, of whether or not someone else is a victim by their own actions or the brute imposition of a criminal’s will upon them. If Nancy Pelosi, say, were going to be gunned down and I was in a position to take action to try and save her, I would. I would die for her as well because in that moment, all I see is a victim and a bad guy.
So. Do I want to die and leave my family and most importantly, my daughter? F**k no! But that’s where I draw the line. Facing yourself in the mirror isn’t the only factor, but to me, it’s one of the most important. One of my most favorite movie quotes sums it up fairly well for me: “You may not know this, but there are things that gnaw on a man worse than dyin’.” (Charlie Waite, Open Range)
What if I were just wounded or crippled, though this time for life? Dunno the answer to that either. I would hope I would face any hardship in life as I’ve tried to face all my other hardships – with equanimity, grace, and humility. What if I were sued or criminally charged? So what? I’ve lost everything once before. I can rebuild again. The only time life is truly over is when I draw my last breath.
I’m quite human, however. I love, I hate; I cry, I laugh; I desire, I dream, I plan for my future though I try not to stake too much on if it never happens exactly how I wish it to. I may die today in a car accident, or of some other sudden thing. The point is, no one knows. So I try as much as possible to say those things that we all need to say and do those things we all need to do. I tell my daughter I love her. I tell my friends that I have made that I appreciate their time and friendship. I tell people how grateful I am for my life and theirs. I may never have the time to say these things later, so I say them now. I make it a point to say “I miss you” if I happen to miss them. I know that time -- my time, your time -- is the only thing we truly have of value because it is irreplaceable.
As I write this, I’m coming to the conclusion that, again, for me, it’s not about carrying a pistol per se or being in “condition yellow” or what have you. Having this pistol and making these decisions beforehand has forced me to forgive and forget, to love now, to risk the pain and express my compassion. Having this pistol has told me how to live better because it is a constant reminder that I’ll be gone someday, one way or another. Having this pistol has paradoxically taught me the value of life; I stand ready to take someone’s life or even to perhaps lose my own for someone else. This ultimately must permeate my very essence, so that I am still willing to do what I feel I must, even without a weapon at hand.
I choose to live my life in no other way. It’s just not in me to turn my back.
