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Show 12 MONDAY, APRIL THE DAILY UTAH CHRONICLE 23, 2001 Gun Sliow Experience YLy thought it was broken. My two brothers and I figured out that if we could get the right size of pebble we would have a pretty lethal weapon. The marks on all of the nearby trees and fences probably tipped off my parents and explains how my beloved handgun disappeared one day. I searched for it for years, and I begged my mom for a .22 rifle becausc...well, because guns are cars blocked my escape. Usualiy I don't flee from Sandy, and, in all actuality, I wasn't. I was y fleeing from the thousands of had who overtaken people the Southtownc Expo Saturday and MATT CANHAM gun-craz- Chronicle Asst. News Editor My I attended the first few hours of the "Crossroads of the West" gun show not out of sincere interest or even morbid curiosity. I went on an assignment for another publication. I loved guns and all weapons, I was a kid. when for that matter My parents even let me keep a broken handgun... well, at least they hands smcllcd like drove down State Street oil-a- ! Sunday. s weekend. The feel of it between my finders and the steering wheel made me want to drive faster, but a mass of cool. One of rny cousins and I would constantly talk about all of the guns we would buy when we got older and our parents couldn't stop us. We would buy gun magazines when we got our Slurpees from the area I had a bullet collection sitting on my desk lamp for years. I connected the smell of the oil to the rifle my friend from Wyoming would let me shoot at prairie dogs and birds with when I would visit in the summer. But really, the smell came from bayonets that once rested on the ends of World War II rifles. Now, 20 - the large collection of knives were the only items at the show that captured my interest. Between tables" where one could holster or buy a concealed-weapo- n an automatic rifle were a few spaces covered with pocket knives, daggers, swords and bayonets. I searched for just the right item to give my brother Kris, but in the end, the price of a bayonet far exceeded the spending money of a lowly college journalist. Kris collects knives and has for a number of years. His collection includes an old machete, throwing knives, a butterfly knife and a bevy of little pocket knives. The artistry of some of these deadly weapons is quite astounding. I have no qualms adding to his 50 collection because I know he doesn't have them for "protection" and I know he doesn't carry one in his pocket "just in case." Using the same logic, I was fascinated with some of the historic guns of the old West and the major battles of days long gone. All of these come from manufacturers making products for the sole purpose of killing people under the guise of protection and under the shield of the Second Amendment. Gun collectors who revel in the history behind the weapon or its or its intricate carved handle didn't scare me away from the Southtowne Expo. Neither did the hunters who checked out a new rifle in hopes of using it in the fall deer hunt. While I don't partake in the sport of killing animals, I don't have much of a problem with others doing it. conceaIt was the led-weapon holsters that I couldn't get out of my mind. It was the knives with the ankle straps. It was the little guns made to tuck into one's belt. It was the bullets, assault rifles and rows and rows of handguns. All of these come from manufacturers, making products for the sole purpose of killing people under the inner-worke- rs above-mention- ed vest-pierci- guise of protection and under the shield of the Second Amendment. I found myself moving quickly, darting from one side of the aisle to another, avoiding model guns because they were pointed into the crowds, and all I could hear was my mom telling me "not to point that at anyone. What if it accidentally went off?" My heart started to beat faster and I am sure every person I talked to could see the apprehension strewn across my face. Bumper stickers and proudly let people proclaim that they were rednecks, and totally (at least when it comes to what type of weapon they keep under their pilpro-choi- ce low). "Own a gun because the government doesn't want you to," "Fear this!" with a confederate flag in the background, and "John Rocker for President," were just a few of the statements that caught me off guard. I really can't tell you when my opinion about guns changed or what sparked the sudden conversion. Maybe I finally realized the horrors of gun violence. Maybe it happened when a gang member fired a shotgun in my high school. Maybe it happened when I was in Washington, D.C., and I had to watch three news stations simultaneously for 12 hours for constant updates on the Columbine tragedy. Or maybe I fear for my own life and the lives of those I hold dear in an environment where everyone or anyone could have one of those little guns tucked into their belts. After I saw the free concealed-weapon- s classes held near the entrance, I hurried to my car. And I couldn't wait to get back to work so I could wash my hands. gun-sho- Corrugated Boxes Student-0- Internationally renowned author and China Specialist , mm ITf'.1""" " t oim. Sugar House Center 2274 South 1300 East 435-337- 7, Fax 4853385 m lp i i i Author of Virtual Tibet on 3 Foothill Village 1338 South Foothill Drive 583-83- Fax: 35 I 583-841- 9 n Dm'i ULl I J N Free Public Lecture 12:30 p.m. Marriott Library's Gould Auditorium I WWW.ASU auu Minariri J.UTH.t0U orvict w |
