I grew up in a large Catholic family from Southern California. We are all very close, and when we were younger, my cousins and I all went to the same private school–St. Mary Star of the Sea. Because all of our parents worked, we would get dropped off at Grandma’s house each morning, and Grandma or Grandpa would drive us to school in the big green Chevy station wagon. The wagon was cool, not only did it have three rows facing forward, but also there was a row facing backwards which allowed us to wave and make faces at the cars behind us. Grandma always insisted on the big wagon so that she could pile in all her grandkids when she needed to. We were always made to feel we were their pride and joy.

I remember one morning in particular, I did something so stupid that it really disappointed my grandparents. My mom dropped us off, like she did each morning. We ran inside to wait for the rest of the kids to arrive before heading off to school. Grandpa sat in his recliner, reading his bible while Grandma was cooked breakfast in the kitchen. She would always ask if we were hungry, even if we ate at home. She always had something special cooking in the kitchen, like tortilla con juevo. That morning after she served me a plate, while I was eating grandpa checked our bags to make sure we had our lunches. He opened my bookbag and the scrunch in his forehead let me know something wasn’t right. He pulled out a plastic baggie filled with dried green leaves, and turned to my grandma, “Que es eso? Drogas?”

My grandma’s eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of her head. Grandma looked shocked, but also disappointed, “Kenny what’s that,” she asked? I was in sixth grade, so the thought of one of her grandkids smoking marijuana was farthest from her mind, especially one that went to a Catholic school.

“Its nothing grandma.”

“What do you mean its nothing?”

“A girl at school was acting cool because she said she smokes weed with her friends at home and I told her I did too. She didn’t believe me, and she bet me I didn’t have any. Its only oregano; I was gonna trick her.”

Grandma looked at grandpa and told him to check it. He opened the bag, and with a look of confusion pulled the bag to his nose and inhaled, “I think its oregano.”

“Taste it!” she tells him sternly.

Grandpa’s eye’s open wide at her response, he put his hand in the bag and grabbed a pinch of leaves and then slowly placed the leaves on his tongue. He looked up at grandma and his face turned to a grin, “Si es oregano.”

Grandma gave a sigh of relief, and then looked at me, “What do you think you are doing taking oregano to school and pretending it’s drugs?”

“But grandma…”

“But nothing!” she scolds me, “Pretending is just as bad as having the real thing.”

I look at my grandpa and he is shaking his head back and forth, while at the same time trying to hold back his laughter. I looked down to the ground in shame. She came up and gave me a hug. I should have known better than to do something so stupid. Lucky for me I come from a family who believes in forgiveness. We piled into the big green station wagon, and nothing was ever mentioned of that morning again. You see, we were always grandma’s special grandchildren.

My fondest childhood memories were spent with my cousins at my grandparent’s house. It was grandma’s that we were able to run, play, and be children. There were 35 of us, free to explore and live life! My grandparents had a green cornfield next to their home in the dirt lot. I remember running through the field playing hide-n-go-seek, tag, or war, the latter was always fun considering we grew up in a small town next to Camp Pendleton Marine Corp Base. There were olive trees to climb, all sorts of things to keep children occupied throughout the weekend. The weekends flew by, and before we knew it, it was Monday and time for school.

When it was fall and winter, the cornfields turned to a dirt lot; there was no more hide-n-go-seek, it was now kickball, whiffle-ball, and a game of football. We were never bored at Grandmas, and after a fun-filled day, it always ended with the family in the backyard with Grandpa and all the uncles gathered round the barbecue flipping cooking burgers, hotdogs, or on special occasions, carne asada! Think of capturing these voices, shouting at kids, handing them food.

It was a childhood I wouldn’t change for the world, but as we entered our teen years, childhood games were no more and we all went our separate ways. In some sense I miss the times we shared, but those days are behind us. Today we are the uncles and have our own families. We must always charge ahead, and you can never go back because that moment is gone.

“Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower, we will grieve not; rather find strength in what remains behind.”
~ William Woodsworth

Littleton, Deming, Flint, Lake Worth, Santee, Gary, Red Lion, Cold Spring, D.C., Red Lake, La Follette, Essex, Bailey, Cazenovia, Nickel Mines, Tacoma, Prineville, Cleveland, Oxnard, Federal Way, Detroit, Ft. Lauderdale, Larose, Madison, Salinas, Marinette, Omaha, Placerville, San Jose, Houston, Chardon, Jacksonville, Chapel Hill, Stillwater, Newtown, Southgate, Sardis, Gray, Austin, Sparks, Centennial, Bend, Miami, Detroit, Troutdale, Lake Mary, Fairburn, Marysville; a total of 115 children, teens and school personnel have died in K-12 school shootings in the United States since Columbine in 1999. These are just the cities where fatalities were recorded in the shootings. If you add college and universities, the number doubles and the number injured reach nearly 300. There have been a total of 155 school shootings in America since Columbine 15 years ago.

I am a gun owner, outdoorsman, and a proud NRA Member. While my next comment could get my NRA Membership revoked, liberals would be elated knowing a conservative is second-guessing his values. Lately I have wondered if stricter gun laws should be implemented; the better half of me knows that legislation will not get guns out of the hands of criminals, so what is America to do? Perhaps it’s time to change legislation and allow school administrators to arm themselves; the opportunity to obtain a CCW License might be the solution. Maybe then it would deter would-be shooters to reconsider knowing that they might be stopped long before the melee begins. Maybe then the media will hail the Hero as opposed to the gunman as they did last week in the shooting at Parliament last week in Canada.

Last week in Marysville, WA a young teen upset over the breakup with his girlfriend took a gun to school. He shot and killed a fellow classmate and injured four others before he was killed. Little has been said of the female teacher who grappled with the student when the gun went off killing him. But the media has reminded us countless times, “He was Homecoming Prince and a nice kid,” – supposedly.

Lately our President has used these atrocities for propaganda to push his views on gun control, and has proposed stricter background checks and a ban on assault weapons. Perhaps we need to look at our priorities. Throughout America armed personnel protect our President, Government Offices, Military Bases, and our borders. They protect executives, celebrities, and other people who need their entourage. Why not have them protect our future – our children? When terrorists threatened our borders, our government established the Department of Homeland Security costing Americans $60B annually. How much would it cost expand the budget to allow for armed personnel to protect our schools?

Gun control is not the answer; to the contrary, we need good people who have been cleared through extensive background checks to able to arm and protect themselves and the people around them if ever faced with danger. If criminals had to worry if the person standing before them was equally or better armed than they, perhaps criminals would think twice about committing a crime. It’s a right my wife and I embrace each day when we leave our home.

“Though defensive violence will always be ‘a sad necessity’ in the eyes of men of principle, it would be still more unfortunate if wrongdoers should dominate just men.”
– St. Augustine