My following lengthy screed gets into the matter of gun laws in this country.

I own several handguns and one rifle, and at one time, was a member of the National Rifle Association and spouted all the arguments about the sacredness of the Second Amendment. One of my guitar students back in the mid-1960s was a gun enthusiast. He introduced me to the fun of target shooting at a local firing range and shooting empty soft drink cans off of fence posts at a gravel pit outside of town. He also gave me some instruction in combat shooting.

He always carried a gun (Colt .45 automatic—"Gold Cup" target model) in a belt holster, concealed by his suit jacket. He did have a concealed weapons permit. He talked me into getting one, which I did. I carried a small .380 cal. Walther PPK (looked like James Bond's gun, but used a larger cartridge). My friend was a bit contemptuous of my "little pop-gun." He talked a lot about "stopping power," and advised me to get something bigger. Actually, my "little pop gun" was standard police issue in some European countries, where .380 cal. is designated "9 millemeter short (corto)." And it didn't make my jacket bulge.

He (I'll call him Larry), a mutual friend (let's call him Bill), and I went around armed to the teeth for a couple of years.

In addition to some really good firearms training, I learned something else from Larry. Not a lesson he intended. I learned that some people who are especially fond of firearms can be just plain, bloody trigger-happy. Buried in the back of their head somewhere, they want to shoot somebody!

Larry came damned close on a couple of occasions.

One evening Bill drove to Larry's apartment and found that he was out. Knowing that he would be back shortly, he sat in his parked car and waited 'til Larry pulled in and parked. Bill got out of his car and walked up to Larry's. Larry, seeing in the rear view mirror someone approaching his car from behind, pulled his Colt .45, opened the door suddenly, spun off the car seat and stood in a crouch with a two-hand hold, with the Colt aimed at the middle of Bill's chest before he suddenly realized who it was! He was within a split second of pulling the trigger.

Larry didn't tell me this. His girl friend, who was in the car with him did. Scared the hell out of her. Scared the hell out of Bill, too. And, for that matter, Larry damn near threw up, realizing how close he'd come to killing one of his best friends!

Marcy broke up with him shortly thereafter, and I think this sort of thing had something to do with it. Carrying a .38 cal. Smith & Wesson snub-nosed "Ladies' Special" in her pocket book wasn't quite her style.

But he didn't learn! A few months later, he observed a minor auto accident that resulted in a big argument between the two drivers, one of which was clearly at fault (the other car was parked!). The driver at fault got back into his car and intended to drive off just as the police arrived.

Larry had seen the whole thing, and was watching as things developed. But as the guy prepared to drive off, Larry pulled his gun and stepped in front of the car, again in a crouch, the Colt in a two-hand hold, aimed at the driver through the windshield. The driver, wide-eyed with fear, hit the brakes.

He and Larry were arrested and taken in. The offending driver was charged with hit-and-run, or at least hit and attempted run.

Larry was charged with a firearms offense. His beloved Colt Gold Cup was confiscated and he spent a night in the slammer. In the subsequent court hearing, his concealed weapons permit was rescinded and I believe he also had to pay a stiff fine. He also receive a severe dressing down from the judge, who pointed out to him that, although he had aided the police in stopping a law-breaker from escaping, a dented fender did not warrant the use of lethal force, and if he had actually shot someone, he would have been charged with murder.

Somewhere in the back of Larry's mind—he wanted to shoot someone!

Thinking about the implications of all this, I didn't renew my concealed weapons permit when it came due and my guns are safely locked up, and I did not renew my NRA membership.

And I don't go out deliberately looking for trouble.

Don Firth

P. S. The Second Amendment reads, "A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed."

In NO WAY did my friend Larry—or George Zimmerman—constitute a "well regulated militia."