“Political correctness is simply tyranny with manners.”
                                Charlton Heston

Guns don’t fit my demographic.  I’m a middle-class suburbanite who was raised by thespian Democrats in New York City.  I stay mute when colleagues speak of the horrors of guns and vow they would never allow one into their home.  I pretend to agree.

As some of you know, I was an activist in my 20’s, considered by some to be a Marxist or a Communist, but I never thought of myself as either.  I’ve seen most of Michael Moore’s films and used to be anti-gun.  Even though I’m a registered Democrat, I don’t agree with everything “Democratic” nor do I consider myself ultra-liberal.  I voted for Obama, but the patina has gradually worn off, not to say that I’ve given up on him.  We are not the nation our forefathers intended us to be, but we still possess inalienable rights, including the Second Amendment right to keep and bear arms.

My husband Lorin has always wanted to target shoot but was not permitted to do so while growing up.  Last year he told me he wanted to buy a gun and reluctantly, I agreed.  I was still anti-gun.  He went through the rigorous process of getting his license which took months:  background checks, three character referrals and fingerprinting.  New Jersey’s gun laws are among the most stringent in the country.  We went to gun shows in Pennsylvania, but he purchased his first gun, a Beretta, at Ramsey Outdoor in New Jersey along with a cleaning kit, goggles and ear muffs.  He asked if I was interested in shooting and, being the good sport that I am, I said okay.  He purchased a used 38 Special, aka “Police Special,” for me.

Beretta 9 mm.

Police Special, 1929

We joined an outdoor shooting range about an hour north of our home and took the mandatory safety class.  The remoteness of the country setting and the inability to think about my troubles as all the safety precautions ran through my head was liberating.  I pointed the gun downrange, saw the sights, aimed and fired.  It was a moving meditation.  It made me forget how sick my mother was and how tired I was of taking care of her.  It gave me permission to be selfish and free.

I preferred the 38 Special to the Beretta.  When I shot the Beretta, the bullets often jammed or stove-piped, and I lost patience.  The magazine is also harder to load.  I also preferred the action of the revolver; it felt more natural in my hands.

In August, Lorin and I took a full day Basics of Pistol Shooting class sponsored by the NRA.  One of the instructors said, “If revolvers are simplicity, semi-automatics are complexity.”  I guess I preferred simplicity.  We were also told never to refer to our pistols as “weapons”; it gave us a bad name.  After the sit-down portion of the class, each student was assigned an individual instructor to shoot with.  I brought the 38 Special, but because the sight was worn out, I used my teacher’s Smith & Wesson .357.  I felt like Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry.  I had a blast (no pun intended), but my upper arms quivered from the weight of the revolver so I had to put it down from time to time.  I needed to buff up.  Lorin’s teacher said he was a “natural.”  I was very proud of him.

Smith & Wesson 357

During breaks Tea Party literature was distributed, and people asked if we were going to the next meeting.  Lorin and I smiled and said we probably couldn’t make it.  We had the excuse of living too far away and working in the city.  It’s funny how people assume things if you own a gun.

It surprised me to discover that both my brother-in-law and father enjoyed shooting; neither of them are Tea Party members or remotely conservative.  The three of us went to an indoor range in Los Angeles while I was visiting over Christmas.  Dad and I had one of those father-daughter experiences that will forever be etched in my memory.  When we got home, dad bragged to my stepmother about my shooting ability.  I felt like a kid again.  Maybe this is what Lorin had craved and missed as a kid:  to do something he excelled at and be praised by a parent.

Here’s an excerpt from a New York Post article from September 4, 2009, entitled, “Go Ahead, Make My High Holiday”

“Fearing jihadists will attack synagogues during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, a group of badass rabbis has developed a program to turn your average shul-goer into a lean, mean fighting machine.

The group, which calls itself the International Security Coalition of Clergy, was founded by Rabbi Gary Moscowitz, who boasts a black belt in karate, teaches martial arts and was an NYPD cop for nine years.”

See them in action:

Many celebrities, including Sylvester Stallone, are anti-gun (Rambo is anti-gun?), but they aren’t averse to retaining armed bodyguards to protect them. 

One of the few outspoken pro-gun celebrities was Charlton Heston, who I thought was nuts until I read his entire 1997 speech at the Free Congress Foundation’s 20^th Anniversary Gala in which he spoke about our constitutional rights, among other things.  He was engaged in the civil rights cause before Hollywood found it fashionable and marched on Washington with Martin Luther King in August 1963.  Hollywood turned its back on one of their biggest icons when he became a Republican and gun advocate. 

Heston announced that he had Alzheimer ’s disease in 2002.  I recently learned that Michael Moore knew Heston was suffering from AD when he ambushed his home during Bowling for Columbine to badger him about his NRA presidency.  Talk about hitting someone when they’re down!  Always a class act, Heston graciously excused himself from the interview.

George Clooney joked about Heston’s disease in 2003 while receiving an award at a National Board of Review film awards ceremony.  He said, "Charlton Heston announced again today that he is suffering from Alzheimer's."  When questioned about the remark by New York Newsday, Clooney said, "I don't care. Charlton Heston is the head of the National Rifle Association. He deserves whatever anyone says about him."  My love affair with George Clooney has officially ended.

Heston’s response to Clooney was, “"I served my country in World War II. I survived that - I guess I can survive some bad words from this fellow."

In his 2002 video-taped farewell speech, he spoke of his career and his illness: “I can part the Red Sea, but I can’t part with you, which is why I won’t exclude you from this stage in my life."  He also said, “As an actor, I’m thankful I have lived not one life, but many.”

My mother suffers from the same disease but doesn’t know she has it.  Maybe if I told her a fellow actor had it, it would make a difference.  But I know she‘ll never like guns.