Both mildly pro. My father had been in the Army both Pre-WWII and in the ETO, and in the Border Patrol before and after. My mother grew up in the Chicago of the 20s and 30s. She told the story of coming home late one night and my grandfather taking a pot shot at her from the upstairs landing (thought she was a burglar, I guess).
I got the customary kids's .22, a Marlin 80C also, at age 12. Got interested in pistols at age 16, and they went with me to shop for one; we went a few miles to an adjoining state, I paid cash, and took it home with me with everyone's approval.
A couple of years later I got to wanting a 1911, and they bought a DCM .45 from an acquaintance ($25) and I got it for Christmas ("Gee, Dad, it's a 1911!")
Somewhere I have a picture of my Mom shooting that pistol, no earmuffs and hardball ammo. She was one tough cookie, that lady.
My Dad was never much into guns himself but tolerated my shenanigans as long as I behaved myself. He once commented that he had wanted a Colt Woodsman back in the day--but never got it. He did get to wanting a snubbie revolver as he got older so I found him a nice little S&W M60. I don't think he ever shot it, but he kept it in his nightstand drawer along with his old time sap.
My daughter now cherishes that M60. I have the sap.