Guns and bikes

[garote]

Fun story: Four years ago in West Oakland I lived with a guy who kept a gun in his closet. It was in a locked box and he kept the ammo separated. He was a responsible gun owner; he even made sure that I knew how to use it "just in case". He was a little twitchy though... He would sometimes harangue the homeless guys who came up to root through our recycling cans, claiming that they were "casing the place". He also installed chintzy security bars on the front windows, more for the look than anything else, since a reasonably strong adult could tear them off with one arm. He admitted it was "security theater," but the point was to make busting into the house slower, not impossible.

He never told anyone else that there was a firearm in the house. That would have made us much bigger targets for theft. The only point to having it was so we could use it in a bad enough situation. But what would that be?

During my time in West Oakland, I was a witness to - and occasional victim of - all kinds of mayhem, from smash-and-grab burglary to drive-by shootings to fistfights and domestic drama in the street outside. A fair amount of that activity came from an obvious crackhouse halfway down the block. At no point did I say to myself, "time to get out the gun." What would it have taken, for me to think that? I imagined a large man with his own firearm, breaking in through a front window at 3:00 in the morning, intending to execute us in our beds so he could take his time stealing our ... what? Double homicide for a couple of old bicycles, and few thousand dollars worth of computer crap that would be hard to fence?

The gun didn't really move the needle on my feeling of safety. What did, was knowing who my neighbors were and being on good terms with them. We lived downstairs from a huge gang of punks, all crammed into the upper flat, and we made friends with as many as we could. They watched over the place - literally. We also got on a first-name basis with the houses on either side, and the shop owner across the street, and a bunch of the people who loitered there. It was easy because there was always something to talk about, in the form of whatever crazy thing had just happened.

We also didn't go out on foot when we could use a bicycle instead. That one habit probably kept us from getting mugged about a dozen times. From this I can only conclude:

A bicycle kept us safer than a gun.

I imagine my reasoning would be different if I was a single mom in West Oakland with kids to protect. That break-in scenario would have much worse elements added to it. And if my ex-husband was the violent type, or if I knew my kids were in a bad crowd... I can see why I might have a gun. I am very lucky that I don't look or feel like an easy target, and that my job isn't dangerous.

I do worry about those guns being stolen or used against their owners, though. We unlock our phones with a fingerprint -- why not our firearms? The hardware is already shockproof...

Comments

[juan_gandhi]

This sounds reasonable, but regarding a break-in, have to mention this year's Nobel prize winner, who kind of discovered that reason is not exactly a driving force in economy. I'd count more on statistics.

I believe you could have been targeted whether you are friendly with your village neighbors or not.

My grandmother had a small shop in her village, and she was regularly giving candies to local kids. Then they grew up and took the whole shop, and she was arrested - by them. In their eyes, she was just another rich woman.

[zeugma92]

I’ve never been too impressed with the guns-for-home-defense rationale for ownership, frankly. Having one on hand clearly makes certain people *feel* safer, like our friend here, but as far as I can see, just by putting one in the house your odds of accidental death or injury by your own hand go up by about one million percent while your odds of a home invasion robbery remain unchanged and are now dramatically overshadowed by the additional risk you’ve just voluntarily taken on. The fact is that most people who rob homes do their best to NOT encounter the inhabitants, for obvious reasons. Most home invasion robberies last about five minutes or less and consist of the thief breaking in, grabbing whatever valuables they see lying around on the surface of the house, and get the fuck out. The best solution is to simply pick up and move somewhere that’s safe enough for kids to play on the street, and leave the effing firearm behind.

Unless of course you are moving to the country, where there are many good reasons to own and use a gun that don’t involve aiming them at other people.

[garote]

Like shootin’ at beer cans on the back 40!

[zeugma92]

Well, sure, but I was just in Forestville for the weekend (about 17 miles outside of Auburn) and they very clearly have an issue with bears and wildcats up there. You’d be insane not to have a rifle on hand if you lived up there.

[garote]

True, true. I’m just jokin’ :)

[zeugma92]

Yeah, I didn’t mean to discount it though! I swear to you that’s exactly what I’d mostly be using my rifle for if I lived in the country and owned one. Back when we were kids I got to be the best shot of any of us with the BB gun thanks to shooting cans at distance in Steve’s backyard. I killed several birds in flight and at least one squirrel with the BB gun before realizing that I probably shouldn’t do that unless I were actually hungry and needed to eat the poor critters to survive.

[garote]

Birds in flight? Damn! That’s good!!

[zeugma92]

Yeah, we used to pitch cans for each other against that steep hill of blackberry bushes that I once fell and rolled down, shirtless, ugggggh! I still remember how much more painful a million little thorns were than getting punched straight in the face, as had also happened. Anyway after getting decent at the cans the next logical step was to practice on Stellar jays going from one redwood tree to the next. Their flight path is pretty straight and predictable but fast, as I recall, so you had to fire way out in front of it to even have a chance. The only kill I feel ashamed of was one squirrel that somehow grabbed onto a branch on its way down, after I shot it, and died there still hanging on, so that it just dangled there above Steve's deck until it finally rotted enough to fall into the underbrush, a grisly picture. That finally made me realize the immorality of hunting for pure sport (as opposed to at least eating it or at least making use of it somehow) and I never did it again, my whole life.

[garote]

That is a pretty gnarly lesson, yeah...
Also gnarly: That steep hill covered in blackberry bushes. There were a bunch of those surprisingly steep and tricky hills around there. Seemed like a normal part of kid life: Oh yeah, there's that part of the property where if I step off it, I might tumble a hundred feet down and break my neck. Dum de dooo...