When I was a young man growing up in rural Oregon, there was a term for people like me: “gun nut.”
By my 20s, I had a sizable collection of rifles, pistols and shotguns. Some people I knew had a “pre-64” Winchester, a rifle renowned for its quality. Or they had a Browning Auto 5, a beautiful shotgun. A friend had 10 of those in various gauges.
But gun nuts today are a different breed entirely. When they talk about guns, they don’t get into describing graceful lines, tight grain wood or immaculate bluing. At gun stores today what I hear praised is firepower that comes out of black plastic and steel. And these weapons are not for hunting — they’re assault rifles sometimes called “modern sporting guns.” The kind of sport they’re good for is not spelled out.
One of the gun stores I visited recently boasted a back wall lined with assault-style rifles, pistols and defensive shotguns, all black except for a choice few in hot pink “for the ladies.” The staff mostly wore black as well.
Their T-shirts for sale featured some amalgam of the American Flag and warnings such as “Don’t tread on me” and an ancient Greek phrase roughly meaning “Come and take them.” Everybody — and I mean staff and other customers — was packing holstered pistols. I felt out of place and time.