I never really knew my father, since he died when I was four years old. It is impossible for me to sift out any actual memories I might have from the stories and photographs mother shared with us while my sister and I were growing up. I do know he was the product of the Scottish Highlands, both of his parents having come from Scotland in the mid 1800s. He was quiet, frugal, and very much an independent spirit. He was gentle and loving, hard working and beloved by family and friends.
Liberty: The Gold That Does Not Glitter
By The Hunter, Knight of Non-Aggression
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
"The Dunadan", B. Baggins
(JRR Tolkien, "The Fellowship of the Ring")
Children and Safety
By what process do "children" become adults? How do people become responsible for themselves, rather than dependent on others for their lives and safety? What part does chronological age have to do with it?
I'm posting my articles at The Price of Liberty a few days after they appear on JPFO, so I'll link there this time. This has sparked a good bit of discussion with some friends, and I'm curious what folks here think of the topic. I think people need to be far more assertive about this, and return responsibility for "feelings" to those doing the feeling. We need to stop apologizing for living.
Not My Problem
[This was written in 2009, and has become my annual Christmas column at The Price of Liberty. Thought I'd share it with you all here.]
1950 was a hard year. My father died and my mother was left with two small children. She was a “housewife” and had no particular marketable skills. She also didn’t have any family who could help her much. She was a recovering alcoholic and suffered from severe depression. Not a pretty picture.
I rolled up the garage door yesterday, intently focused on reclaiming a portion of our yard from the weeds that flourished while I was sick and unable to do much of anything. The scent that wafted over me sent my mind on an entirely different path, however.
I carry a gun - Get over it
By Susan Callaway, Editor
July 30, 2012
I carry a gun. All the time, just about everywhere I go except to bed and the shower. Even then, a gun is within a foot or so of my hand all the time. An occasional trip into the disarmed victim zone of the post office, and my last (and I do mean last) trip to California to visit family are the extreme and very temporary exceptions.
This article is from the current issue of The Price of Liberty. I like to think it is one of my better efforts, and have been surprised at how little feedback I've gotten after posting it on a number of freedom and gun rights message boards. A little discouraging.... but I guess that's just life these days. Anyway, thought I'd share it with you here as well. Comments are, of course, most welcome.
I Love My Guns
By Susan Callaway, Editor
April 02, 2012
Some recent comments on various message boards frequented by shooters indicate that a few people are either changing their minds or are bowing to the politically correct pressure of the day. They have begun to assert that they do NOT "love their guns" and only view them as necessary tools.
While I couldn't agree more that guns are simply tools, pretty much like any others, I don't know why that would make them unlovable. Most men love their tools, all different kinds, and men have always loved their guns. I'm certainly not ashamed to join those men.
But, you might ask, just what is it that we (who still profess it anyway) actually love about guns? Aren't they killing machines, good only for harming others? We hear that a lot.
So, why do I love my guns? Let me count the ways.
I find it extremely interesting that two of my dearest friends—neither of whom are going through an upheaval similar to mine—recently wrote me, musing about the intricacies of the different types of freedom. In reading their words, I realized that a choice I made a few years ago has created challenges for me today.
Doing some research for my self defense book, I came across this blog (bookmarked now) and especially this entry about how the brain works and our potential for sensory perception. It really speaks volumes to the practice of situational awareness. The trick is to balance our need for awareness with a continued appreciation for beauty and other good things going on around us at the same time. When we concentrate too much on potential threats, we do become "paranoid" and lose sight of far too much of everything else.
I was introduced to a bit of the world of Gabor Maté yesterday, and am so impressed that I think all of you not already familiar with him would benefit from making his acquaintance as well.
I’ve been having a conversation with a dear friend about rights, and property rights in particular. It took me back to this discussion. Then, in the midst of pondering all that, I came across an observation regarding self ownership that got my li’l reptilian going again. Fastening seat belts and/or taking blood pressure meds before stepping in to the debate room is advised.
A good deal of my absence here—and the lightness of subject when I do post—can be attributed solely to fear.
Is just that: a story.