The American gun owner gets up in the morning, rubs the sleep from his eyes, grabs a cup of strong coffee and gets ready for yet another day of work. He hugs his kids and gives his wife a kiss as he heads out the door to a job…sometimes, one he hates, because he takes his obligation to provide for the well being of his family seriously.
He comes home at night exhausted, but relishes eating dinner at the table, all together as a family, and helping the kids with their homework afterward.
He shakes his head when he sits down to pay the bills, hoping there’s enough money left at the end of the month. He has hopes and dreams. He tends to bear his burdens silently, and celebrate his victories with friends and family.
He’s the guy sitting in the back row of his daughter’s dance recital getting a little misty eyed. “She’s growing up so fast”, he thinks to himself. He’s the guy you see tossing the football around with his son on a warm, spring day.
He’s the type of guy that would run into a fire, rather than away from one. Why? Because he has an innate sense of responsibility…an instinct…to be the guy that his family, and his community, can count on in a time of crisis.
He is the mechanic you use to fix your car. He’s the baker that made your kid’s birthday cake. He’s the mild mannered accountant down the street. He’s the guy that held the door for you at the convenience store.
He’s a human being. He’s not some monster that has a greater propensity to go berserk, merely because of the piece of polymer and plastic safely holstered in his waistband.
He is an American. He is a lover of liberty. He is a gun owner.