tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380232356803921253.post4271799884010691554..comments2024-01-28T02:24:23.386-05:00Comments on Dan Leo: “A Town Called Disdain”, Episode 23: gun roomDan Leohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01603402268945559679noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380232356803921253.post-44599270475599733042007-10-23T10:34:00.000-04:002007-10-23T10:34:00.000-04:00You don't remember hitting an ashtray? The noise, ...You don't remember hitting an ashtray? The noise, the recoil, the shattering glass (unless it was plastic)! must've made go numb and blank. <BR/><BR/>Yeah, my dad, who granted was wild and still in his twenties when I was six, thought my blast backwards onto to the gravel, my staggering gait, and resulting fuzzy feeling was funny. When he learned my boyfriends were suggesting I walk that last block home, he stopped threatening them. And though he won't come right out and admit he was ever wrong, you'll never hear him say a good word about gun-nuts anymore. The most he says is, "With in the hands of today's crazies, they always do more harm than good.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12306491903311869968noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380232356803921253.post-3776852932912747822007-10-23T00:07:00.000-04:002007-10-23T00:07:00.000-04:00I passed your comment on to Larry. He says, "Your ...I passed your comment on to Larry. He says, "Your dad had you shoot a .45 when you were six? And I thought my characters were nutty!"<BR/><BR/>True story from my own childhood, an incident I don't remember but which my mom likes to relate: my parents were visiting some friends with me when I was five or so years of age. I wandered around the house and found a loaded pistol. I came back into the living room where my parents were sitting with their friends. I fired the pistol and fortunately the only thing I hit was one of those old-fashioned stand-up ashtrays. Quick-Draw Leo. So, yeah, people, lock up those guns, please.Dan Leohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01603402268945559679noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6380232356803921253.post-43129243283133691952007-10-22T23:17:00.000-04:002007-10-22T23:17:00.000-04:00My dad tried to teach me to shoot a .45 when I was...My dad tried to teach me to shoot a .45 when I was six. He warned me to keep my elbows in--the pistol had a kick. Warned or not, the recoil sent me flying and the barrel gave me a goose egg on my forehead.<BR/> <BR/>PS. He used to have a gun room and would terrorize any boyfriend who dared to bring me home late. Now he stores his weapons in a locked box.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12306491903311869968noreply@blogger.com