Periodically we might ask ourselves: where are we going?
What is actually different from the life around us half a century ago? How does that difference affect the way we live and, should we be concerned to the point where we decide to do something about it? When I was approaching teenage, we never thought about boundaries From sun up to sun down, in Northern Minnesota, outside our small town area, we explored the forests and rivers. The single-shot 22, birthday present my dad gave me at 12, never killed anything I remember.
Much later, where I taught school in West Virginia, boys of 12 knew the woods as “home”. Keith Roberts killed his own deer, with his grandfather's rifle and brought it out of the woods. That self-reliance does something for a boy nothing else can. It gets at the heart of the difference between man and woman. One hunts, brings home the “bacon”. Now, in Vermont, it gets to a point where parents are paranoid about their youngsters, especially a girl, going for a walk in the “woods”. The mystery of a young girl killed, jogging in Heartland, has never been solved. Yearly, something similar happens in Vermont. Self-protection is never guaranteed.
You are out for a stroll, alone or with your significant other. An angry dog, frightened, sees you as too close to his “property”. Before he has his teeth in you, mace or pepper spray, directed near him, has him going the other way. Postman or walker, you are your own homeland security. Anything else is fictional. As an American, Vermonter or anyone else, only you are responsible for your safety and survival. My rifle made me feel secure as a boy; boxing in the service, learning martial arts, all gave me a sense of security but not total security. Even more important is avoiding places, or people, of unnecessary risk. Despite movies or TV, the choice is up to me.
