What a Handgun Means to Me
Thursday, August 24th, 2006by Paul Trout
I distinctly remember the day or rather, the night that I discovered I was an adult. I was 16 years old and had awoken in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat, and terrified. Whatever rumblings from my id haunted my dreams that night, I don’t remember. What has stuck with me, however, is the realization I made, lying in the dark, trying to shut down the adrenaline, and beat back the edge of terror. I was all alone. There was no one I could turn to for aid or comfort. If a real physical danger…
