How the Patterson Arsenal Came To Be

A great good Saturday morning to all my internet friends and neighbors, and for those family members who have stumbled onto this post, I'm feeling much better. It wasn't the evil "C" thing, just a gut virus.

I'm trying to shift to MeWe from Facebook. Their politics have been intrusive for quite some time, but I could work around that, since I am apolitical as I can be. However, their peremptory demand that I learn their new interface is too much. If I have to learn a new interface, why not learn MeWe? So, that's what I'm doing. This is where you can find me; please join and add me to your contacts and so on.

I WAS doing a post on MeWe, but as often has been the case, discovered I had a lot more to say than a courteously brief, expecting-to-be-read post would be. So, a blog post, and I hope you don't faint from shock!

In November of 2001, coyotes killed my good old dog Jumper Bill.

In frustration and rage, I bought a Mossberg 500 12 gauge shotgun from a pawn shop, and tried to come up with a plan to eradicate the varmints. (BTW: coyotes ARE varmints; there is no season, and no bag limit. I verified that.)

That plan didn't work out, but I found I liked having the security of the shotgun. It felt...MANLY!

Six months later, I bought a S&W 422 .22 caliber plinking pistol from the same pawnshop, followed shortly by purchase of a Marlin 60 .22 rifle. I took Mickey and Bess on summer field trips to the outdoor range, AFTER I had given them classes in firearms safety, how to use rifle sights, etc, and afterward, how to clean the firearms.

I think the next thing that happened was that GrandBebe gave me her pistol, a S&W Model 60, .38 Spl snubnose. Ralph bought it new in August, 1969, for $100, according to the receipt.

And then, I discovered that there was a .22 League Competition! It met every Monday night at a local range (now, sadly, out of business) and they were very welcoming. In the competition, we fired 30 shots, five at a time, at standard competition bull's-eye targets. As you can see, hits in the outer circle counted 5 points, going up to 10 points, with the tiny center being 10 points and an 'X.' The max score was 300, with 30 X.

My first score was 116, no X.

Now, it's a poor workman who blames his tools, but after a couple of weeks of truly dismal performance, and seeing the firearms my fellow shooters were using, I realized I was, and I do mean this LITERALLY, not in their league! The S&W 422 is a nice little plinker, lightweight, but not tiny; it's just not designed to be a target pistol. The other competitors were equipped with one of these:

The Baikal IZH 35M, and the Ruger Mark IV

Both of these are excellent, purpose-designed target pistols. And both of them were priced WAY out of my budget. I think I paid $85 for my pawn shop S&W 422. So, I grabbed my buddy Virgil, 

You'd have to know him to see his smile...

an older man who Knew Things, and we went to the gun show which was fortuitously being held that weekend, and Virgil helped me pick out an entry level target pistol.

The Browning Buckmark Camper

With no other changes made, on my first week back I improved my score by over 80 points, and, with lots and lots of practice, I worked my way up in the ratings. I finally came in THIRD! in a monthly awards presentation. It was a $5 gift certificate. I still have that certificate in my possession.

I'm changing the way this blog post is going. My INITIAL intent was to show off more recent acquisitions, but this has gone on long enough, and I want to end with an important rabbit trail.

I told you that I got my buddy Virgil to help me pick out the pistol. Why Virgil? Well, as I said, he Knew Things. But I had ZERO evidence that he knew ANYTHING about firearms. As far as I know, until I grabbed him that day, he and I had never broached the topic.

But I knew he was THIS kind of guy!

BUT: Virgil was an older guy. He LIKED me. He would TALK to me. And that was huge in my heart; I don't know if it was in his.

Susie was huge in his heart, and he in hers.

I missed out on a lot of the relationship that sons are supposed to have with their fathers, and once upon a time, that was a source of much pain and anger for me. I give thanks to God that with both my biological father and my stepfather I was able to reconcile as an adult. When they passed, there were no regrets left. But, there was still a hole in my life, even as a fully grown man with teenage kids of my own, a need for a relationship with an older, wiser person. 

I have now, and had then, some TRULY excellent friends who are my age and younger.  But there was still a older guy/younger guy mentor relationship that was missing. Some day, I might tell you about how I started to fix that; but right now, I just want to make the point that while I doubt Virgil knew it, because we never talked about it specifically, I sought him out to fill that role. And he did a wonderful job.

Faithful and true.

I say this because someone might read this who is, or who knows of, a person who NEEDS to have that hole filled, and/or a person who can FILL that hole for someone else. And I want to encourage you: look for the person you need; look for the person who needs you. They are all around.

Peace be on your household.

First Day of the 2020-2021 School Year

(So, the alarm goes off at 6 AM.)

Ummm, what is THAT?!?

Oh, Alicia Ann wanted to get up at 6, so she could fix her hair for an hour and a half. (I'm so glad I'm a boy...)

While she was waiting to get into the bathroom, she lay down on the bed. So, I told her Bess' Story, which starts...

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Esmeralda. She lived in a white house, with a white picket fence, and a gate she could open by herself, and in the corner of the fence, there was some dirt she used to play in. She had a dog named Scarfy, and a cat named Marfy, and across the street, lived her best friend PAMMY. "

And then, as I had done for Bess Patterson Blackstone so many, many times, I told Alicia Ann of Esmeralda's adventures on the first day of school. 

(Except this was the first time I had told Alicia Ann an Esmeralda story; for Bess, every school year from K through 12 began with an Esmeralda story, plus some others sprinkled throughout the years.)

And I told her that Esmeralda didn't want eggs this morning, just biscuits and bacon. (Which meant I had to prepare bacon and orange rolls, just in case...) 

Food Art

And the story ended with 

"And Esmeralda went off to her first day at high school, and had a WONDERFUL first day. Just. Like. YOU!"

To which Alicia Ann retorted: 

"Well, of COURSE she had a wonderful day! Why wouldn't a story have a wonderful day? Who would ever tell a story where you had a crummy day, when you don't know what your hair is going to look like?"

Not a reaction I ever got from Bess, but then, all my chirren are different. So am I, though, so that's okay.

And then, I escorted my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, out to her car, prayed with her, and watched her boogie on down the road, leaving me to run the popsicle stand by myself.....sigh.

Four more years. It's not a campaign slogan. It's a short-timer's calendar...

Meet the High School students: 

Semi-Smile, and Smirk

Peace be on your household.

Rebellion is as the Sin of Witchcraft

Greetings, internet friends and neighbors, and to those family members who have stumbled upon this post: we are yet holding on.

"For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft" (I Sam 15:23a, KJV)

I almost always prefer the New American Standard Bible (NASB), since it was the version I bought, and began studying, upon becoming an adult believer in 1973. 

Sometimes, I have found the transparency of the New International Version (NIV) to reveal a previously hidden truth. I liked this feature so much, I even wrote a song  in praise of this translation, to the tune of the Beach Boys' "Little GTO."*

Every once in a while, though, I revert to my very first Bible, the King James Version (KJV), when a particular verse seems to be hard-wired into my brain. And this morning, when I read that three men, loosely affiliated with a movement known as "Boogaloo Boys," were arrested for planning to firebomb power stations in Las Vegas, King James is what I heard in my head. 

I believe it's because "witchcraft" has a greater punch for me than "divination," the word used in the more recent translations. 

This last is part of a tangle of a few different threads in my recent thinking.

First. Prior to reading the news article this morning, the last thread was prompted by a rabbit trail conversation I was a part of, at a Georgia law seminar I attended last night. The topic was the issues surrounding the use of deadly force. primarily by civilians, but also touching lightly on the use of force by police. One of the other attendees had been a college classmate of former Georgia governor Roy Barnes, and upon hearing that the presenter was a Cobb County lawyer, asked if he knew him.

(The answer was yes; they were neighbors; they all called him "Uncle Roy.")

If you aren't a long-term Georgia resident, it's not likely that you have heard of Roy Barnes. If you have, it's likely due to his actions in getting the Confederate battle flag emblem removed from the Georgia state flag in January 2001. In a nutshell: in six days, he got legislation pushed through both the House and the Senate changing the flag, and the opponents were taken by surprise. 

It cost him re-election, BUT: further significant conflict was avoided. In my opinion, Roy Barnes exemplifies the example of self-sacrifice for the common good. If you want to hear some details, try this article here. 

Second.  I discovered several years ago that snug-fitting T-shirts were no longer the effective fashion statement that they were when I weighed 165 pounds. Hawaiian shirts, though; that appealed to my love of the bizarre, as well as providing comfort for my expanding belly. I peaked at 305 pounds! I've lost around 50 since then, and am slowly creeping downward, but the loose fit of those shirts is still something I appreciate. Furthermore, loose shirts really make the "concealed" part of "concealed carry" work for me. I do not like the association of these shirts with terrorists. 

Third. Like many of you, I took an oath to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. In my case, the occasion was taken upon my enlistment in the U. S. Army on September 7, 1972. It still applies. Although most of the talk I've heard over the past couple of decades has been about defending our Second Amendment rights, it is the First Amendment that I see being challenged now. Specifically, it is the RIGHT of the people to peaceably assemble. The protests, whether you agree with them or not, fall into that category. The challenges are coming from at least two sides: those in authority, who react in fear and oppression; and those who are using a protest venue to launch violent and tumultuous attacks on people and property. Whether those latter are opportunistic thugs, or agent provocateurs, I do not know. I hope that will be revealed, and as soon as possible. Depicted here is a peaceable protest of remarkable beauty; it is also RE-MAKE-ABLE beauty, as this can serve as a pattern for future events. 

Fourth.  The Fulton County DA charged a former Atlanta police officer with 11 felony counts, including felony murder. An official with the Atlanta chapter of the N.A.A.C.P. called this decision bold and courageous, but at the same time wondered why similar charges had not been filed in a half-dozen similar cases since 2015; these came during times when the DA was not fighting for re-election. 

And it's possible that the cops are responding by staging an informal job action, although news on this is hard to come by. If the link at the beginning of this sentence is dead,  you might need to try Google.

I think that a citizen has the right to go about their business/recreation without being hassled, and without fear of being treated more harshly than the situation calls for.

I think that police should be accountable for criminal actions, but should NOT fear being criminally prosecuted for political advantage of elected officials.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Peace be on your household.

*For those of you who are curious, the first verse of this song, performed at a summer evening service at my home church in Woodstock, GA, around 1994:

Well, Little NIV, you know you read so fine,

From Genesis to Revelations, you really blow my mind.

When I look into your pages, it really drives me wi-i-ild,

I'm gonna take it down, open it, read the book,

NIV!

His Duty As A Trooper

I didn't write this post. 

(It seems I am mostly still not able to write. I'm trying to figure that out, but if you have been wondering? Well, I'm wondering as well.)

This post was written by Richard Holman, a 27 year-old second-generation member of the Georgia State Patrol. I cannot speak highly enough of his parents, who I have known since 1991. In fact, I'm not even going to try, except to say that if you lived next door to them, or had the privilege of working with them, you would call yourself blessed, just as I do.

August 2017: 

New graduate Richard is issued the same badge number

his father Lee had, when he served.

I was nearly overwhelmed with pride, when I read Richard's reflections on his duty as a member of the GSP, and as a man, during the unrest in Atlanta in the recent past. These are his words, verbatim, which you may also find on his May 31 entry on his Facebook page.

I’ve been pondering the “right” way to put this, but if I keep thinking about it then it’ll never be said. The more I grow the more I am able to clearly formulate my own opinions and feeling about the world. I’ve felt a hard press on my heart this week to share these thoughts, and I’ve ignored too many calls from God to not share this one.

First of all, hi I’m Richard. I am In law enforcement, and I am proud of the job I do everyday and the department I serve. I love to serve my wife, my church, my friends, my family, and my community. My mission goes beyond getting bad folks off the roads. I strive to dig into my community to bridge a gap that for far too long has been left void. A large part of my job includes listening to people. When I encounter someone I’ve always found that listening to them is a fantastic way to start that conversation. I know what I have to say to people, so I want to know what they have to say to me. I can’t change the past, and I can’t change someone’s perspective. I CAN listen to understand perspective, and pray I leave a better footprint.

With that said, the pain that is being expressed in these gatherings is felt. The tears have been seen. Your chants are being heard. It is my obligation as a good man to support and listen to the protest. It is my duty as a Trooper to bridge that gap. I’m speaking out against any man or woman in law enforcement that does not believe that it is our duty to truly serve with love and compassion for each and every person. I have unregrettably apologized to people for the way they have been treated by other law enforcement officers in the past, and will continue to do so.

For the last 3 days. I have been in Atlanta. There have been numerous protest with meaning and real passion with real missions taking place. I value your expressions and your mission. I have had conversations with people where I did nothing but listen, and ask more questioned to gain a new perspective. I did this because I needed to understand the best I can. My duty as a Trooper and my obligation as a human is to defend your protest. If harm comes to you I will defend you, and I have seen you defend those on duty. We should begin to value each other as God values us. For me that starts with listening.

There are many coming that do not have a real cry. They do not have any words that add value or express pain. They have a mission to cause pain, and to divide even deeper. These are the wolves. They’ve swept into a meaningful expression, and stole the mission from millions of people. I want those that are protesting to know that I see that. I see that your agenda is to bridge the gap just like me. And I will defend you in these streets as the wolves are trying to tear apart what you’ve so desperately needed to say. I love you all, and I’m always here for you.

Even if you don't know Richard personally; even if you don't have the privilege of living in the Great State of Georgia; if you care about the future of the relationship between law enforcement and civilians, then this should make you proud. This should give you hope. As long as there are men and women who understand their mission the way that Richard Holman does, then the LEO side of the equation will work. It's up to the rest of us to take care of the civilian side.

Peace be on your household. 

I HATE firearms errors in books!

This started out as  a minor Facebook rant, but then it got too long. And I haven't written a blog post in far too long, anyway. I was driven to this by outrage, sort of....

Mickey Spillane. Wrote all the tough-guy detective stories, Mike Hammer, etc. His books have sold more than 200,000,000 copies. That's Two Hundred Million. Enough to equip the rebels at the battle of Armageddon.

Mickey Spillane in 1974

Critics hated him. Does he look like he cares?

"More peanuts get sold than caviar," he said.

How does HE make firearms mistakes, and with a common firearm like the 1911 .45 ACP Mike Hammer carries?
INCONCEIVABLE!
And yet, he does. I'm reading a short story included in an award-winners (The Shamus Award. Didn't know it was legit, until I looked it up) book, called "The Killing Man." It was in Playboy magazine in 1989, blah, blah, blah, later made into a book, blah blah blah. 

This is probably a good place to insert a comment about writers who trouble themselves to do the research. Laura Montgomery, this means you! Well done, VERY well done!

I'm not even all the way through with the story, and so far he's done this:

Page 150: Called the bullet feeder a clip. It's NOT a clip, it's a magazine. This is minor, since it's just nomenclature, but it's the WRONG nomenclature.
Page 151: He tells his cop buddy he will "keep his forty-five on half cock," in order to be more prepared for the bad guys. Ummm, no. While the 1911 does have a half-cock position, that's a STUPID way to carry it. When half-cocked, the trigger doesn't work, and the safety can't be engaged. It's a MUCH more difficult maneuver to shift the thumb to move the hammer to full cock, than it is to shift the thumb to take the safety off. If there is a reason for the half-cock position to exist, I do not know what it is.
Page 154: He beats up a bad guy, then pulls his gun on him to interrogate him:  "I pulled out my .45, and let him hear me jack a round into the chamber ... I thumbed the hammer back. That sound, the double click, was even deadlier."
 No, no no. I cannot stand it any more! I must register my protest!

First of all, a 1911 is DESIGNED to be carried with a round in the chamber, cocked, safety on. Observe the hammer and safety positions on my 1911:

Also observe that there is no magazine inserted.

Yes, it is true that at certain times in the military, the policy was to keep the chamber unloaded, but that was a stupid decision made by people afraid of boomsticks, not by users, and most certainly not by John Moses Browning. And Mike Hammer is a civilian anyway, so that wouldn't apply. And therefore, he wouldn't be jacking a round into the chamber, because he would already have it loaded.

Second, when you "jack a round into the chamber," it cocks the hammer automatically. So, there is no 'thumbing the hammer back," no "deadly double click."

I think he's got the function of the semi-auto 1911 conflated with the way that the Colt Model 1873 Single Action Army revolver operated. It's true that with the originals, you carried them with the cylinder underneath the hammer empty, because if you dropped one, the hammer could set off the primer and fire that round. Modern reproductions are perfectly safe to carry with all six cylinders loaded, but they teach in Cowboy Action Shooting to only load five, for purposes of authenticity.
And, with the Model 1873, the half-cock position actually DID serve a purpose: when you placed the hammer in the half-cock position, the cylinder spun freely, so you could load it, via a swing-out side gate. BUT: you had to cock it, FULL cock, each time you wanted to fire it.

Here are my modern Model 1873 SAA revolvers, manufactured in Italy by Uberti. The left-hand pistol is on half-cock, the right-hand is on full cock.

These are very different from the 1911!

A salient comment: There are MANY occasions in which an accurate description is a bad idea. Atomic bombs, for example, but there are others. Even the recipes in "The Anarchist Cookbook" are bogus; I know, because I bought a copy about 20 years ago, and I can't believe my fascination and fear of it in 1971. HOWEVER!!! This isn't one of those cases. Frankly, I see zero value in him misleading the public like this. On the other hand,  I can't believe that Spillane didn't know how a 1911 worked. But, maybe.

Well, that's all the venting I needed.

Peace be on your household.