I came home recently to discover I had been robbed. A forced entry, my house sustained full raping and pillaging. Shocked, blissfully, I felt truly grateful to have not been home. Had I been home, I would have had to live with a murder on my conscience. Albeit justified, murder is murder, not an easy experience to live down. And Mama don’t miss. With that I felt grateful my personal safety was spared, I could always buy a new television, new personal effects. This protective shock lasted only a couple of weeks. When it wore off, the horror of the event set in. Borrowing some items that the thieves stole, I run room sweeps every time I come home, ready for their return. I go pee with a gun in hand. What they didn’t take speaks as loudly as what they did take. The bad guys took all my competition gear and all my most important Customs memorabilia making this case Highly Unusual. They didn’t, however, take the long guns. A message perhaps? But what would they be telling me? I am an old woman, retired a long time, now. I go to the range to make sure I still remember the business end of a gun. I go to the range to coach and instruct others. Who would do this? I will probably never know. Unless they come back when I am here and then we identify their dead bodies.
NRA Firearms Instructor – Nancy Rothschild
What Nancy’s Reading
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