I’d like you to meet Nana.
She’s 80 years young and awesome. As a kid, my cousin and I would spend a month with Nana and Granddad every summer. We’d take over the basement and refer to it as our apartment. She taught me the value of proper grammar, much to my childhood frustration.
Me: Me and Mandy…
Nana: Mandy is not mean
Me: *grumble* Mandy and I…
She sat through countless hairbrush concerts with me using a coffee table as a stage. Sure, she’d applaud but only if I had earned it. She introduced me to fireworks and made me face my fears.
It was a great honor when she asked if I would show her how to shoot. She lives alone now. She has already scared off a home invader using nothing more than a stern voice, but she is wise enough to realize she might need something more persuasive if there is a next time. Although, I can tell you that her stern voice is pretty darn persuasive.
We hung a milk carton and started slow. A nice heavy revolver in .22lr. The double action trigger pull on the 617 was heavy, but she did great in single action.
Soon we moved on to her gun. When she decided that she needed a gun, she decided that she needed a small revolver. We did all we could to convince her otherwise, but she would have none of it. Stubbornness does run in the family, I suppose.
Word got around to her nephew that she wanted one, so he bought her a brand new Ruger LCR in .357 magnum with Crimson Trace laser grips. He’s cool like that. Although, he’s never bought me a gun (insert spoiled pout here).
And she handled it like a champ. That milk carton won’t be bothering anyone anymore. She had a great time too.
And while we’re having fun…
All she’d ever shot previously was a rifle in .22lr and 410 shotgun. She totally rocked everything that she got her hands on that day. She is my grandmother, after all
Quote of the day:
If I ever get too old to learn something new, just bury me-Nana
I want to be her when I grow up.
Now you’re wondering how this all ties into Kilted to Kick Cancer, aren’t you? Well, Nana is a widow. Granddad passed away October 11, 2007, shortly after I started blogging. He survived prostate cancer but not without several undignified side effects. He was the 1 out of 6, and his life was never the same. You don’t have to ask why I’m just as committed as Michael to this cause.
Please, for the men you love, spread the word. If you can, give to fund the research to kill this terrible disease. Get checked, or encourage your loved ones to get checked. While everyone jokes and embarrasses themselves, don’t forget that the cause really is a serious one.
It’s just a few more days until the whole world turns pink. Give Kilted to Kick Cancer the boost it needs now.