By Peggy Tartaro,
Executive Editor

On the last day of the National Rifle Association (NRA) Convention in Pittsburgh I was guiding my mother down an aisle for the next-to-last break of the day. It was a busy show, and I saw lots of old friends, talked to many other folks and was more than a little pleased that we had run out of Gun Weeks on Saturday afternoon and were on the last box of Women & Guns with two hours to go to close.

Events like this always start out with the best of intentions for me-I come equipped with lists of people to see and booths to visit. If I'm lucky, I've done a little net-surfing and scoped out restaurants, bookstores and museums in advance, on the off chance I'll get to see any of them. (I did, of course, get to restaurants, but alas, no museums and only one used book store.) Hope springs external, but you never get to see everyone and everything.

As we hove into view of the exit, I spotted an acquaintance from my early days in the business. He was talking to another group of folks, so I just tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Hello."

"Hey, kid," he replied.

Well. Honestly, the number of people who address me as "kid" with a straight face has long since been overtaken by the number who salute me as "ma'am." Believe me, my hairdresser isn't the only one who knows for sure.

There were, to my mind, plenty of kids at the show: a fair number of babies in strollers, including Zack and Zoe LaCourse; grammar schoolers and tweens with their parents or grandparents, and a few teenagers, most of whom seemed to be champion shooters.

But those of us in the middle to upper brackets of age demographics were definitely the majority, as we are at gun rights political events, shooting matches and gun shows.

NRA has been a leader in youth programs, and every year at the annual meetings sets up an airgun range that seems wildly popular. Other groups, like the National Shooting Sports Foundation and the governing bodies of shooting disciplines such as trap, cowboy action and the like, have specific youth programs as well.

But it isn't just my advancing years that lead me to think there are less young people than there ought to be involved in both the sports and politics of firearms. There are less.

Many programs that existed when I really was a kid are gone, often victims of budgetary restraints, but more likely shuutered because of lack of participation.

As the days (finally!) get warmer and longer, an excellent opportunity presents itself to take some time to reacquaint yourself with the fun of shooting, and maybe take a younger person along with you. "Younger" may be defined here as anyone a year or more behind you, and you have my permission to call them all "Kid."

I have often thought one of the greatest mistakes gunowners have made over the years is their insularity. We come by some of it honestly, but too often we don't make much of an effort and then complain that others don't understand us, respect us or value us.

For those with expertise, why not ask at your club if a "family day" could be set up, and encourage club members to bring along extended families of neighbors and co-workers? Not range officer material? Well, you could still help arrange such an event, do some advance publicity work for it, or even help set up the picnic tables and volunteer for the clean-up committee.

If your club isn't interested, perhaps your state association has a youth program you can lend a hand to.

If actually "shootin' matches" aren't your thing, now is also an excellent time to get some younger folks interested in the political process.

The very first day this spring I raked my front garden, I also signed a petition for an enterprising school board hopeful who walked the neighborhood.

Take a kid on a canvassing expedition, to a rally or even to a town meeting held by an incumbent. Your interest in politics can be infectious to an impressionable "kid," even if it's your 35-year-old office mate.

"Familiarity breeds contempt" is the snooty excuse not to extend yourself to others. But it's long past time we started, as a group, to turn that adage on its head.

Peggy Tartaro

Photo © Copyright 1998 Nancy Floyd, used with permission.