My first firearm was a Daisy Red Ryder 1938 BB gun, complete with child-sized safety goggles and a giant tin of BBs. I remember the precise moment my grandfather gave it to me—a minute after 10 a.m. on the morning of my fifth birthday—and how he leaned over and pointed out the various parts of the gun.
As of late, there have been several debates on campus concerning the topic of gun control. When approached with this topic, many stuffy professors like to drone on ad nauseam about court precedent. Others like to spew out endless series of statistics on crime rates and gun possession.
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