Happiness is a Warm Gun

I had a weird conversation today.

One of the main district personnel in charge of building maintenance and supervision was chit-chatting with me. He asked if I was able to get any caribou or moose this season.

I had to respond in the negative. Then I admitted to him that I had never shot a gun before. Ever.

(I remember one time I was supposed to go to the shooting range with Sammy Kim and his dad when I was young but we couldn't get there because the road was blocked or something, but I digress.)

I could see in his eyes that he was flabbergasted, the same as I am when I see students that cannot capitalize names in an essay. He was nice and all, and even volunteered to rectify the situation and help me do some shooting.

I honestly didn't know what to say. The bell rang and I went to teach class.

Is it weird for someone to say that they've never shot a gun? It is, for sure, here in rural Alaska. Subsistence still occurs here for the most part and one moose, a $35 permit, can feed a family for quite a while.

Down in the lower 48, I never really had the need to shoot a gun. Lower 48, for the most part generally, considers hunting a sport. Especially when supermarket meat is cheaper than you could possibly do on your own, hunting is only for those who want to. I'm not opposed to hunting, not in the slightest.

So am I weird for admitting that I have never shot a gun before?