By Robert B. Charles
My days like many of yours are sunup to midnight. Mine include running for Governor of Maine, an educational process, wonderous, enjoyable. Days are filled with calls, visits, fielding concerns, and last week, a gun shop and Right to Life dinner like family plus drop-ins north to Ellsworth, south to Old Orchard. Occasionally, I stay home. On those days, I expect no surprises. I should know better.
Last week was a nod to our Founding Fathers. After talking with law enforcement, calling conservative donors, reading, writing, FOX, Real America’s Voice, and George Hale & Ric Tyler interviews, I got the chance to visit a famous gun shop.
Folks rolling with me noted that the 2nd Amendment would come up of course. Democrats continue trying to jam unconstitutional “red flag” laws on Mainers, a foil for midnight gun confiscation, never learning Mainers like their guns and are resolved to keep them.
One Democrat candidate for Governor is a former Secretary of State who tried to strip Mainers of their vote for Trump reversed by the U.S. Supreme Court. A second is the right hand of anti-gun Governor Mills, the legacy daughter of a left-leaning congresswoman. The third is a former Democrat legislator, deep into gun control.
As quick as those Democrats condemn gun owners, push restrictions, and spread fear, I leap the other way, an NRA hunter at 12, Eagle Scout easy with .22s and shotguns, Gun Owners of Maine and NRA member, trained on 9 mm Glock 19 in the Navy, own guns.
To me, gun ownership is like driving a car, something every kid should know, every adult wants to know, worth time training to do well, as much a responsibility as a right. A couple of years ago, I did my tactical training again, just to be sure I could still handle things well.
Why? Gun ownership is like knowing how to drive, fly a plane, change a tire, speak in public, defend your rights, flyfish or hunt. It is something you do not want to forget, have to practice to and keep sharp. We only hold our Constitutional rights if we use them.
More to the point, gun use keeps you good at something, like listening and talking life with people, campaigning for a State you love, and is also fun. So, I got to the gun shop and listened to what worried them – Democrat tax increases, Democrat regulations, Democrat restrictions.
As I listened, my eyes wandered skyward to a rack of guns on the back wall, lined up like keys on a piano, ready to be played, beautiful.
The time came for me to speak. My mind, however, was on the back wall, specifically an old .30-30 Winchester lever-action rifle, the sort talented hunters out West deployed from a horse, enchanting. I asked to see it, waving off political talk. The thing was gorgeous.
The next half hour passed in three minutes, as I learned, held that thing of beauty, remembered the heft of a .30-30 is like an old friend, a favored baseball bat, the feel of football threads or trumpet keys to those who once played, in a way comforting.
Long story short, the rifle was not expensive. In a fit of indulgence, I bought it, will shoot this weekend. The truth is, after an hour of conversation about guns, I forgot to mention the campaign.
Walking out, I offered a last-minute pitch for governor, apologized to those with me. I missed the cues, just loved the gun. They smiled. Guess they know where I stand.
That night, Portland, and a wonderful Right to Life dinner. Not a single other gubernatorial, congressional, or US Senate candidate attended. I do not know why. The night was a celebration of life, how precious it is, reminder of the deceits used to steal this gift from mothers.
The life-changing, gut-wrenching stories of Dr. Abby Johnson, prayer, and simplification of things to what matters, politics set aside for the protection of life, were like a warm breeze, filled with hope, promise, and obligation.
Then came the next day, just home making calls. All was quiet. With calls made, some writing, sense of peace settling, until a neighbor called. I headed his way. Why? In the waters before my home, deep in the woods a young moose was swimming, not very common.
He seemed to be delivering a message. Take nothing for granted, expect the unexpected, moose to moose hunters booing an out-of-touch governor. Maine is a free state, always was. My mission is to keep it that way. Eyes wide, each day brings surprises in the bargain.
Happy Independence Day.
