A Rewarding Day At The Range

[Pugs]

Tomorrow, my wife, her best friend and I will be going to a police department range with a firearms instructor. For my wife, it will be her third time shooting a handgun. For my wife's best friend, it will be her first. For me, it'll be the blah-blah-blahth time, but the first with an actual instructor.

I've owned a handgun since I bought my first one out of the trunk of a car behind the pizzeria where I worked from a friend or relative of one of the cooks. That piece of crap fake, Beretta knock-off is long since gone and has been replaced twice. I now have a perfectly legal Springfield XD. In the nearly two decades of gun ownership, my handgun marksmanship skills are entirely self-taught. I'm excited to finally spend a little time with a qualified instructor.

I'm not the best shot. Limited practice time and no instruction kind of add up to that fact. Like most other things, though, I've studied the hell out of marksmanship and have the theory down pat. I've studied various schools of thought on shooting (you'd be amazed at how many different grips, stances, and arm positions various experts advocate) and have settled in on what makes the most sense and feels the most comfortable to me. Even so, I'm a slightly above average shot at best.

A couple of months ago, I was at the indoor range in my neighborhood, Badger Outdoors. It was a weekday, so the fifteen dollars that normally buy you an hour of range time was stretching upwards of two hours. Only three other lanes were in use, two men had two lanes a little to my right, and on the other side of them was a man and a boy that I later learned was his grandson. The man was giving his grandson lessons with a couple of different rifles and finally a revolver.

I was impressed with the grandfather's patience in teaching the boy. His instruction focused on safety first, and then some basic mechanics. As needed he firmly, but always kindly and patiently, reiterated safety rules. He walked the boy, step-by-step, through safely loading, handling, unloading, and finally firing the various weapons. He was encouraging regardless of where on the target the boy hit and after letting him fire for a while he started giving little pointers that gradually tightened the boy's grouping.

"Okay, that was a good shot. You had good form. The reason why it went high is..."

"Good! Good job! Did you see how this one wasn't as far to the right? We can bring it in to the center even more if..."

When they worked their way to the handgun, however, the grandfather's instruction faltered and it was clear that he didn't have a lot of experience with or knowledge of handguns. What little he did have, he imparted to the boy in the same patient, safety-first manner. I was impressed with the total lack of ego involved. He didn't try to bluff or make himself out to be the expert that he wasn't. He told his grandson simply that he wasn't as good with pistols but he'd try to give him the basics.

Several lanes over, I was a hundred rounds or so into the evening and was starting to hit a good stride with some better than usual groupings for me. In between magazines, I realized that someone was talking to me, and apparently had been for a little while. Turning, I saw that it was the gentleman with the boy and that he looked like he thought I'd been ignoring him. Quickly apologizing, I pointed out that the ear plugs made my mostly deaf right ear completely deaf and asked him to repeat himself.

He stuck out his hand and introduced himself (unfortunately, I don't recall his name).

"So, I noticed that you do pretty well with a pistol. I'm trying to teach my grandson how to shoot, but I'm not very good with handguns. Would you mind coming over and giving me and him some pointers?"

"Uh, I'm not anything close to an instructor or anything."

"Well, I just wanted to make sure that he got some good fundamentals so any tips you could give would be better than nothing."

"Uh, okay... I'm Pugs, by the way."

Holstering my gun, I followed him down to their lane where he introduced me to his grandson. Unfortunately, I don't remember the boy's name either.

"This is Pugs, he's going to give us some pointers on pistols. Since I don't know a lot about them, I'm gonna listen too, to see if I can maybe learn something with you."

I spent fifteen-twenty minutes with them going over basics of grip and stance (isosceles). I did my best to emulate and reinforce the safety-first, patience that the grandfather had fostered.

Most of all, though, I basked in my peripheral involvement in their familial bond. I'm fatherless, for all intents and purposes. He left when I was eight. My paternal grandfather died before I was adopted. My maternal grandfather died when I was very young. My uncle, my mother's sister's husband, lived in Maryland. So, other than my Big Brother from the Big Brother/Big Sister organization, I had no familial relationship with an adult male. I never had an experience like going to the shooting range at ten years old with a father or grandfather. That's a special thing. It's a rite of passage. It's being trusted to do a very grown-up thing and having someone who loves and cares for you enough to try to do it right. It's having someone who loves you enough to push their own ego aside and ask for help so that you can learn the "right way" to do it. It's having someone who loves you enough that he will emphasize that he's learning something new, too, and that this is something that you're learning together.

I was flattered that, deserving or not, I was asked to be a part of their time together. Except for in weak moments, I don't pity myself for the way that I grew up. There is a certain wistfulness, though. It would have been nice to have had my first shooting experience be a loving, bonding, familial thing. Even so, I am blessed in that even though I missed out on it in my childhood, I got to vicariously live it through my interaction with them. For that I am so grateful.

After sending a couple dozen rounds down range, it became obvious that the boy was getting tired so we went over the basics of the stance and grip one more time and then I helped them pack up their weapons and said goodbye. On the way back to my, lane, one of the other two gentlemen who were shooting stopped me and asked if I was a police officer.

"Hey... hey man, you a cop, Bro'?"

Looking back on it, I guess that the combination of my usual bat belt accessories (cell phone, Gerber multi-tool, and mini Mag-Lite) plus a holstered gun might have lent credence to his assumption.

"Naw, Bro', I ain't a cop. You need two eyes t' pass the physical."

"Oh... hey, you mind givin' us some pointers, too? I was tryin' to listen, and do what you was tellin' 'em, but I didn't git it all."

So I spent some time with those two gentlemen. Their mechanics were terrible from watching too many movies, and their firearm safety practices were a bit lacking. Several times, I had to remind them to keep the muzzle pointed down range even if they were sure the gun was empty. A couple of times I had to physically catch one or the other's wrist to keep the gun pointed down range. I found myself constantly reiterating to them that they should keep their finger out of the trigger guard until the gun was pointed at the target and they were ready to fire. Other than the obligatory, "aw, c'mon, Bro', the gun's empty...," they didn't complain about the safety corrections and they started to be more aware of muzzle and trigger finger discipline to the point that my reminders became much more sporadic. Often they would catch themselves before I did.

The kid was a blank slate. These two gentlemen were a bit like I probably am with a bunch of bad habits that they had to unlearn. As we went over the basics, we also chatted and I learned that they owned some rental properties on the Northwest side of Milwaukee and that they wished that they could carry weapons in Wisconsin because sometimes dealing with tenants could be scary. I learned that one of them had had a very bad day and they decided to come and blow off some steam by tearin' up some targets.

The bad habits were still there, but they were trying to make corrections so after a bit, I left them and went back to my own lane. They finished before I did and one of them stopped by and showed me a target that had a neat little forty caliber hole in the dead center.

"Man! I tried to do everything you said... took ma time... squeezed the trigger... 'n' check this sh!t out, Bro'! I ain't never hit no bullseye like that! I just gotta remember where my feet go 'n' I got it, Man!"

The other guy took a little longer to pack up and as he left, he stopped by and thanked me.

"Hey... thanks, Man... I really appreciate you takin' the time... ain't nobody ever took the time like that wit' me before... 'n' thanks for all the safety stuff, too... ain't nobody never told me 'bout non'a that neither."

"No problem!"

He shook my hand and left.

So in the end, I didn't get nearly as many rounds down range as I wanted, but I did get two really rewarding experiences. I got to be part of the rite of passage as a grandfather passed knowledge and responsibility on to his grandson. I got to help a couple of action movie shooting students learn some fundamentals and break some bad habits.

It felt good. I'm not an instructor. I'm self-taught. I'm barely an above average shooter. But I managed to parlay what little knowledge that I do have into something worthwhile for some other people. That was more rewarding than nailing my own bullseye.

[baerjn]

Good read and thanks for sharing it. It's times like those that still give me hope in us humans.

[lobster_roboto]

That was fantastic.

That was a very cool thing to do.

My grandpa taught me how to shoot... It was one of the more memorable moments.

[USMC-8154TL/DM]

Very good of you Pugs. Alot of people would have turned their backs on both sets.

[Jmanwit]

i had a chance to go shooting with my big brother. The only difference being that I was the better shooter. He is in the Army, and has been overseas (Iraq), and was so confident that he would DESTROY me at the range. I took me XD.45 and he rented the GLOCK 22. (He owns one, but it is in Tennessee) Well my groups were all tight, and his were sporadic. Just to piss him off, I tried his gun too, and the groups were tight. I noticed that his grip wasn't very good, and I really didn't want to correct him, I figured he would be upset, but he took my advice, and his groups started to tighten. We had a great time, and I was glad I could teach him something. (And he really likes the XD, but is a DIEHARD GLOCK guy.)

[MGD 45]

Dude, does that thread come in a hard back edition? LOL! Just kidding! That was a great read, and it really shows how firearms can bring all types of people together, and who knows, you may have just saved one of those guys from an AD/ND in the future.

[jmtgsx]

Good on you Pugs!
You have a gift for relating the written word as well. Thanks for the good read.

[dashotgun]

congratulations pug you grew up to be a man with out having the gentle father you deserved. I am sure you will be a wonderful father your self.

[retired]

Congratulations Pugs on taking the time, effort and patience to do what you did.

I found myself shooting less when my son would bring one of his friends along to shoot (with my permission of course). I could shoot anytime, I wanted to ensure they had a good experience and were safe. Unfortunately, one of his friends is not allowed back until he works on his safety methods.

My hat is off to you sir. And I'm glad you had the opportunity to participate in the Big Brothers program. I was a Big Brother in the early to mid 70s and I hope I helped those kids a bit.

[Pugs]

Hey All,

Thanks for the positive responses. I've been meaning to write that experience up for months now, and finally got around to it. It was something of a lesson to me on what's important in our sport, what's important in families, and what's important for us as people.

If a hard-back edition of my collected essays ever does come out (a goal of mine, even if I have to self-publish some day) I'll let you know, MGD!

And Retired, thanks for participating as a Big Brother. That program made a huge difference in my life. Combined with military school and some other good mentors along the way, it is responsible for helping me become the decent person that I am today. So many kids that I grew up with are dead, strung out on drugs, in prison, or all three. I would have been on that path as well.