Adventures at the Indy Gun and Knife Show

A few weeks ago I found myself standing in line outside in the freezing cold in disbelief. First that I was even in a line to get into a gun show but second that all those other people were too. There was literally a line of people a half mile long to get in. Jim and I were both astonished. I had heard some talk on the news about gun advocates getting nervous about the new Obama administration but I had no idea it was this bad. While some in line around us discussed what might happen with the new Democratic Legislative and Executive Jim and I smiled and nodded... neither of us admitting why we were really there. No, it was not the fear of our 2nd amendment being infringed on. It was..are you ready for it? a possum. Well, that and a recent theft on the farm.
Recently Jim crossed pathes with a possum on the east side of our house. We have hens who are just lovely and we had lost a couple of them in recent weeks. As this possum was fat and sassy he could very well have been the culprit. Jim came in and got his .22 out of the gunsafe and went out to take care of the suspected marsupial. In the meantime I had no idea what was going on and was brushing my teeth in the bathroom which is also on the east side of the house. Brushing away I hear the following exchange...
Bam
Bam..."What the..."
Bam, Bam, Bam "Die already you piece of..."
For those of you who don't know Jim... he is a very mild mannered and easy going person so this outburst was unexpected. He came storming in the house and made the following statement "I am going to go somewhere to buy a very large gun. One that will kill a possum in one shot."
That night someone broke into one of our barns directly across from our house. The following morning when Jim went out to dispose of the possum, it was gone. Of course Jim thinks that possom is still out there alive somewhere. His Moby Dick, if you will. I decided a decent handgun wouldn't be a bad thing due to a rash of crime nearby. Bad guys or possums..whatever the reason..we were at the gun show. Here is some of what I learned...


1. Single ladies... run, don't walk, to the nearest gun show. With a 30 to 1 ratio going on you can't lose. I am no beauty and still garnered a great deal of interest from men of all types while sitting on an empty ammo box waiting for my husband to finalize his purchase. Old ones with no teeth, a guy in an Armani suit, and a way hot group of college guys offered to hang out with me. Another guy with countless piercings and a scary looking semi-automatic slung over his shoulder actually bought me a Coke just "cause I looked thirsty." It was sweet in a weird way. Plus quite a few of these guys could build you a serviceable shelter and hunt down and prepare a dinner in under and hour.

2. Do not generalize about gun owners or their political associations. I spoke to several people who voted for Obama but were concerned about any kind of new laws that may be passed. Whatever your beliefs... about guns or religion or politics... we should all be thankful for these heavily armed Midwesterners. Even if you believe all guns should be banned, that Jesus was just some guy, and the United States is an embarassment there will be a well armed flag waving Jesus freak right there willing to die so that you can both exist in one place with opposing views. It made me have a kind of cozy safe feeling that these people are armed to the gills. If Red Dawn ever came true this is where I would want to be.

3. Purdue emblazened on various clothing items.... 40+ Indiana University...ummm..zero.

4. Women too can love guns. When chatting up a nice older lady she started to give me some tips on what kind of gun I would be comfortable with. I listened in shock as she leaned in and told me that she was sexually assaulted in the 80's and would never leave the house without her gun. She opened the vest she was wearing with a smile to reveal a Glock. It was pink. Throughout the building I saw a variety of pink guns which were disturbing yet alluring.

5. You can buy a bootlegged copy of Disney's Song of the South there for $20. Who knew?

6. The smell of those cinnamon sugar roasted German almonds make even a gun show smell festive.

7. Farmers must be secretly arming themselves for a second Shay's Rebellion. I think my husband is in on it. From the many many John Deere, Case, Monsanto, Pioneer, and Dekalb labels I saw on hats, shirts, and coats I know these were farmers. For those of you not familiar with the practice for every $100,00.00 you spend as a farmer you get a freebie hat or coat emblazoned with the name of the company who just robbed you. Nice huh?

8. Favorite things overheard at the show...
"For something to die, man, you got to take the time to shoot it."

"Glad that went through okay..." from a uniformed Marion County Constable on getting his background check approved for a personal firearm purchase of an AK-47.

" I love it, honey." From a girl whose boyfriend was in the process of buying her a pink shotgun.

"This is not the place to cut in line, Matt. These people have guns."

"Do you want to touch it, little lady? I know you'd like to touch it." Said to me while I was looking at a display case of WWI firearms. And frankly I did want to touch it and told him so.

"You wanna go out and count the cars with Obama stickers on them?" asked by one IMPD officer to another.

Farming 101

One of the reasons that I started this blog was at the urging of an editor who liked how I could explain modern commercial agriculture to him. He lived in a large city and was as about as far removed from his food as possible. Because the general media is in the same boat with him I have never felt that people get an honest view of agriculture in this country. Either you hear that everyone is being poisoned with pesticides and some Hollywood type blames her latest divorce on genetically modified crops or you read some latest and greatest from huge conglomerates like Monsanto where their new technology is going to save the world and all the starving children in Africa will at last have access to a Bic Mac. Neither one is the truth. The editor understood this but wanted to know why the real story wasn't out there. It is really simple.... American farmers are just too damn busy to bother cluing you in on what they figure you should already know. They don't have time to fully engage in a debate on whether the system we have is "right" or "wrong." It is what it is. It will evolve as needed. The Midwestern corn farmer is not shoveling all that high fructose corn syrup down your throat, America. That is the funny thing about agriculture. We like to grow what sells. If you were crazy for bean sprouts we'd figure out how to get that to you with record production levels.
So my editor friend suggested a blog where I could explain some things to the average reader that will help you learn more about where your food comes from. I don't know if it will do any good but if maybe one person develops an appreciation or understanding of the industry it will be something. So occasionally I will touch on that subject and try to explain things from our persepctive. Not that I think it will change much but maybe we'll all learn something.

Bittersweet

June 28th is a day that always saddens me as it was my dad's birthday. He would have been 63 and he would have been crazy for his grandson. He died of cancer back in 1989 when he was only 44 and I was only 13. This day doesn't sadden me for the reason you might think but for the simple fact that my dad has been gone so long that some years his birthday or the date of his death, June 10th, sneak past me. It seems like as the years go by alot about him has faded into a blur that I will never get back in focus. Some years I have been writing a check and will suddenly realize the anniversay of his death was the day before or will make a note that it is in a couple days and then promtly forget. I have always admired the people who make a proper effort in memorializing a loved one on an important date. Maybe they always visit the cemetery or something along those lines. He was not someone who would have cared one way or another, frankly.

I have been without my dad a lot longer than the 13 years I had him. In that blur of time I have forgotten how he moved and lost the ability to recall what he sounded like when he laughed. I don't know hardly any stories from his childhood and have very little of him to pass along to my son. A few years ago I was given some cassette tapes that he had made. I am not sure why he chose to do them. It seems a little out of character. It appears he wanted to capture a moment such as a Christmas morning or me singing my ABC'S. They are brief and of poor quality after all these years but I am so grateful for them because they gave me back his voice. While coaxing me to sing or giving the date of the recording or even once giving a fake commercial on a tape sent to my grandparents...("Brought to you by The Concerned Citizens for Jodi Leigh's Daddy to Get New Boat Seats") he left behind his voice. For the few seconds that I hear him across all these years parts of who he was shimmer into focus. Never for very long but for a few moments I am back with him.

I do not delude myself in thinking that my father was a great man. He was an alcoholic, a Vietnam veteran, and came from a screwy family. He had the obvious issues that come from those sorts of things. I am not someone who elevates the dead to instant sainthood just because they are dead. Personally I would find it refreshing if at the next funeral I attend someone said, "Larry was great and I loved him. But you know he had these moments where he could be a real asshole. And he still owes me fifty bucks." So I know my dad had his bad moments but there was a lot of good too and I guess they kind of cancel each other out and leave me with a lot of questions. Questions that will probably never get resolved which I am okay with. Mostly. I wish he could have known my husband and my son. I mainly wish he had had a happier ending.

So this year I actually caught June 28th and sometime today I am going to sit with my son out on our front porch and tell him about his grandfather. I will show him the couple dozen pictures I have and tell him how in Vietnam he was a door gunner and that when he gets a little older he can have one of his grandfather's fishing poles. To my son he will just be a character in a story and this to me is bittersweet.

A Reluctant Blogger

I find it incredibly hard to believe anyone will want to read this. That what I write and think will matter or be of interest to anyone out there in the world. But I was given the advice by a former editor to start up a blog. Blog. I don't even like the word blog but here it is. Happy Mr. Former Editor? So I have no idea how often I will write here or even what I will write. I've christened it Rurality as that is the type of filter I generally view the world through. I live in a rural community in Indiana and we farm. Not the warm and fuzzy organic farming or the back to the land delusional kind but the "Hey America this is why your food has been so incredibly cheap that you can afford flat screen TV's wider than most shacks in the slums of South America" kind of farming. (Can I get a Amen up there in Heaven, Earl Butz?) We farm several thousand acres of grain but we are still a "family farm" which is a term that gets thrown around a lot in an election year. I have subscriptions to Top Producer and Successful Farming that are tempered with Vogue and Vanity Fair. I once particularly enjoyed the confused look of my mailman when they came on the same day. I have a four year old son that I promise not to write too much about even though he is pretty great. I also have a husband of almost seven years who is better than I deserve. So ultimately I don't know what this is going to be but it will be organic and evolve on its own. Maybe some farming. Maybe some fashion. I am obsessed and interested in a lot of things that will probably surface but I guess we'll just have to wait and see. America, I am just sure you are breathless with anticipation.