I grew up around firearms. To me firearms are inanimate
objects that can be used for sport - or in the most scary of scenarios
as a tool for self defense.

	Last week, I called a friend and told her that I had a column
to write and wanted to take a first time shooter to our local indoor
range.

	M.R.S. stammered, gulped and said, "But I am Canadian."

	So I went looking for another novice. I asked A.J., a young
lady who has been like a daughter to me for the past 20 years.

	Her enthusiasm was catching and we decided to go the next
day. And at 10 a.m. we were at the front door of Wade's range down the
street from my office.

	We entered and went to the front counter to sign in. We read
and initialed the range rules. I told A.J. about an incident at a
range I had visited while out of town recently. Even though the
manager knew me, I was required to go through the range safety course
for all new comers. Imagine by companion's chagrin when he found that
he could not enter the range until he reread and complied with the
instructions.  Number 23 on the written instructions told the reader
to turn the piece of paper over and sign the upper right hand corner
with your complete name.

	I picked out a .22 semi automatic target pistol, targets and
100 rounds of ammunition to start. The Range Master showed us the
safety, magazine release and reminded us of the rules of the range. We
picked up our goggles and ear muffs

	A.J. and I opened the first door and paused to put on our eye
and hearing protection. Carrying our gear, we entered the range and
selected the far left lane placing our equipment on the shelf in
front.

	I showed her how to mount the target and send it down the
lane. We chose to start at 10 yards. I loaded the magazine with five
rounds and shot.

	Then I loaded another five bullet and placed the gun in A.J.'s
hand. I showed her how to release the safety, had her fix her sights,
made sure she had a good grip and let her go.

	She fired the first round tentatively, glanced at me with a
surprise on her face as the brass ejected.  She finished the final
four shots and put the gun down.

	"Is this a semi automatic," she asked? When I replied in the
affirmative, she looked at me questioningly; this is what everyone is
talking about? "You have to pull the trigger each time."

	Since we had walked in the door, it had taken us almost an
hour to fire 10 rounds.

	I loaded five more rounds into the magazine, pulled her by her
belt to correct her stance and told A.J. to raise her aim and start
when she was ready.

	I could tell she liked shooting.

	I brought the target back and counted fifteen holes. I had her
put up a fresh target and send it 30 feet down the lane. I loaded ten
rounds and handed her the magazine and the gun. She inserted the clip,
released the safety and proceeded to fire.

	We pulled back the target and decided it was a keeper. She had
shot ten rounds all within the black with two dead on center.

	A.J. finished the rest of the .22 ammunition with a just a
couple of jams. It was a perfect chance to show her how to clear the
chamber and explain good safety with a loaded gun.

	She decided she would like to try something else. I chose a 9
mm with a slim grip and white sights. With 50 rounds in hand, we
resumed our lesson.

	I opened the box of ammo and almost on cue, A.J. said, "WO-OW"
in reference to the difference in the size of the bullets. We went
through the safety features of the firearm and I shot the first few
rounds.  For the first time, there was a slight odor of gun powder and
oil.

	I loaded five rounds for A.J., had her engage the magazine and
adjusted her grip. She pulled the trigger and then pulled harder . Her
first shot went wide. She engaged the safety, put to gun on the shelf
pointed down range and looked at me. I released the clip and we
stopped to talk.

	While A.J. was well aware of the political and constitutional
arguments about firearms, she was far less aware of the realities of
actually pulling the trigger of anything more powerful than an air
gun.

	I compared it to a car and learning to drive. Together we
worked out an analogy that pleased both of us. I felt comfortable that
A.J. understood both the fun and respect that are involved in shooting
and she felt that she was in control, because the firearm was an
inanimate object until she "turned it on and put it into gear."

	I saw M.R.S. a few days later and she asked me if I had found
someone to use as my guinea pig.  She said she had asked another
friend to browse the Chanel makeup counter with her and her friend had
shied away. She told her friend that she too had turned down another
friend's request. Her friend told her she thought a trip to the
shooting range sounded like a great deal more fun than trying on
lipsticks.

	I agree. 

Julianne Versnel Gottlieb
Publisher

Personal Parting Shots.

A.J., I felt a lot more comfortable teaching you to shot than I did
teaching you to drive. Happy birthday, Mr. Stupendous. Congratulations
to K and J on their marriage. To my girls and M.M.D., lol.