Well, I wasn’t expecting that.

Sweet Daughter was the C.O.W. at Y-camp today. (That’s Camper of the Week. I was confused at first when I picked her up today and she started exclaiming “I’m the COW! I’m the COW!”) So, to celebrate, we decided to pick up a pizza and go to the park for a pizza picnic and some play time. I decided to OC.

There were some kids running around (with no close adult supervision that I could see) while we ate. When we were done, the other kids seemed to evaporate, and I pushed SD on the swings for a bit. When we migrated over to the slides and climbing stuff, the other kids materialized again. SD was sliding down the fireman’s pole, and I was standing under her slowing her descent when a little urchin of about 4 ½ quite earnestly told me he wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers. I told him that was a good idea, and did he realize I was a stranger? He then told me if he was caught talking to a stranger, he’d be beat with a belt. He then asked if I’d help him down the pole. I politely declined, explaining that I was a stranger, and maybe his momma wouldn’t approve.

Then … the question I wasn’t prepared for. Because while I am not comfortable talking to strange adults, I sure as heck don’t like talking to Other People’s Kids. Especially ones traveling in packs and reenacting The Lord of the Flies. Even if they’re only about 4 ½ years old.

“Is that a gun?”

“Yes.”

“A REAL gun?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“I can tell you’re not a cop, because you’re not wearing a cop suit.”

“That’s right.”

“So why do you have a gun?”

“To keep her, and the rest of you safe from bad guys.”

I could tell he was thinking that over. And then the 8-year-girl saw the magazines.

“What are those?”

“Magazines.”

“Magazines?” (I could tell she was only familiar with the kind you buy in the checkout line.)

“OMG! IS THAT A GUN?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a cop?”

(Sigh.) “No.”

“A Marine?”

“No.” (But that was kind of cool. When I was her age, women couldn’t be Marines. At least not with guns.)

“Can I see it?”

“Absolutely not. It doesn’t come out of the holster unless I need to use it.”

“Why do you have it?”

And SW piped up with a grin: “To keep me safe!!”

Amazingly, nobody ran screaming back to an adult. Even me.

Lost in the translation

Apparently my OC post got linked to. A lot. (Thanks, everybody!) Including a LiveJournal in Russia that at last count has 71 comments or links, or something. I’m not sure how the translation went from my blog to that one, but I ran the Russian post through Google Translate and got the following, which cracked me up.  (I can only wonder what they think of the living history, knitting and shoe posts ...)

Sketches from life ...
July 14th, 16:51

A woman with two children, 4 and 6 years. Bear arms openly (I would not say that it is reasonable, but it is her choice). And then, somehow taking the child from the children's camp she hopped into the store. And there is seller-consultant squinted squinted at her and finally asked:
- You do not cop an hour?
- No.
- FBI?
- No.
- Neshto CIA?
smile:
- No.
- Yes, I asked what is there just something you have ... - Tyknuv finger at the two stores on the side.
- They came bundled with it. - Turned the other side.
- E. .. and why are you wearing?
Thrusting his finger in the child of:
- That she was safe. The second dealer, hmyknuv:
- I'd probably steal your car poosteregsya ...
- Well, it's also part of the purpose of ...
There are already number 1 seller of thought, and gave:
- Probably should go on courses ...

And the comments? Here’s a smattering. It even appears to my untrained eye that Markley's Law might have made an appearance at the end.

dead_sergeant
2011-07-14 01:02 pm
Hoplofoby, come, fall in piles around with heart attacks - the children and guns, just a dream.

kontiky
2011-07-14 02:45 pm
I'm more surprised by the reaction of the seller - even in the U.S. is not all obvious utility of weapons.

hyperprapor
2011-07-14 02:55 pm

Duc girl? When they are generally interested in the weapons??
And since learned - was filled with ... Common sense, then there.

glockoholic
2011-07-14 05:42 pm

Baba fool! Not because of silly, but because a woman!
Weapons, as well as to wear covert dick and show only when absolutely necessary.

More thoughts on OC

The irony when being an OC "ambassador" is that I don't like talking to strangers. I was talking to SH about the perfect OC ambassador being someone who doesn't look like a cop, or look military, or look like your typical high-speed, low drag, uber tactical mall ninja, and I realized I had to shut up or start OCing myself. I won't wear a branded t-shirt when I carry. And I won't wear a ball cap or even wear my hair in a pony-tail as it gives off a cop-vibe, for some reason. The only tactical black thing I wear is mascara and, if I'm working, high heels. OCing puts me way out of my comfort zone, but not because of the gun for some reason. It’s because when I OC I have to be open and friendly to strangers and that really makes this introvert feel rather awkward.

OC Update

I’ve been OCing a bit more lately. Mostly, if I’m out with my pistol, I’m open carrying unless the venue is so air conditioned I want a jacket. And then I don’t worry about concealment.

I’ve OC’d at CVS a half dozen times, now. That seemed was odd at first, but it’s not a problem now. I’ve OC’d in Kohl’s  and Target a handful of times, and I added Old Navy to the list this weekend. I REALLY wish we had a Trader Joe’s or Whole Paycheck Foods less than an hour away so I could have that experience.

I had left work early one day a week or so ago and was grubbing around at home before picking Sweet Daughter up from camp at the YMCA. I had thrown on my shoulder rig and was heading out the door before I remembered the whole OC Ambassador mindset. I went back and changed out of the oversized shirt with stuff all over the front into a plain red fitted t-shirt. When I got to the pick-up spot, one of the counselors looked at me and said, “Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“FBI?”

“No.”

“CIA?”

Smiling, “No.”

“I was wondering because I saw those.” (Pointing to the two magazines on my right side.)

“They go with this”, I said, turning and showing her the holstered pistol. She looked a little surprised.

“So what do you do?”

II gave her a general idea.

“So why do you carry that?”

(Pointing at SD) “To keep her safe.”

Counselor #2 chimes in with “Yeah. I wouldn’t want to carjack your car.”

I said “That’s pretty much the point.”

I saw the light bulb go off over the head of Counselor #1. And she said she’d like to learn how to shoot. I told her I’d be happy to help point her in the right direction and the next time Michael W. came to visit we could maybe set something up.  

That’s a conversation that never would have happened if I’d been carrying concealed.  We’re winning -- one at a time.

Not like other moms

Sweet Daughter asked me the other day which Disney Princess was my favorite. I’m not thrilled with the idea of “princess” as something to be when one grows up, but I picked Belle, because at least she reads. SD’s favorite? Cinderella.

I said “Cinderella is a perfect example of why you need to finish school and go to college.”

SD: Puzzled look

Me: “If she had a good education she could have a decent paying job, or at least one where she didn’t have to live in the attic and get up before everyone else and be ordered around all day.”

SD: Looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

Me, continuing: “She’s a grown-up. Why doesn’t she just leave? See? This is why we have guns. So if a bad guy tells us to do something we don’t want to do, we have choices.

SD: Sighs. “Mamma. I think she chose to stay.”

And this is why other moms probably won’t let her come to our house to play.

18th century Pistols

 One of the neat things about the Detached Hospital is how much really cool material culture stuff our members have. Chuck brought these along to Under the Redcoat in Williamsburg last weekend.

 

Top: 1759 British light horse Cavalry Pistol. It was found in Maine. The hammer has been replaced, and most of the marks have been filed off.

Middle: French Model 1777 Cavalry Pistol from the St. Etienne Armory. These two cavalry pistols are about .60 caliber.

Bottom: Sharpe box lock, or muff, pistol. You unscrew the barrel to load it. This is about .32 caliber. It's small, but I wouldn't want to get shot with it.

He also had a marvelous sword cane that I neglected to photograph. Maybe if I see him in October...

Mormon Tabernacle Choir Flash Mob - Colonial Williamsburg

No, this couldn't have happened this coming weekend when we'll be there for Under the Redcoat -the British Occupation of Williamsburg. But then, I'd probably have been in camp anyway.


H/T to my old Royal Artillery buddy, Al.