The Texan and Guns

Last summer I was visiting my sister and family in Texas. We had just piled into her car on the way to brunch when my brother in law turns to his son. Are you packing? Of course my nephew says and pulls out a hand gun. I m sitting with jaw dropped, speechless. You? My nephew asks. Yep, he says as my brother in law a preacher and nicest man I know pulls out a 357 magnum. I am beginning to wonder if somehow I am dreaming this or we are on our way to rob a restaurant instead of feast at one. Then my darling 5 foot 2 sister pulls out a silver pistol with pearl handle from her purse. Me too. By now I realize I am fully awake but maybe in a twilight zone episode. Nope just in Texas where it is legal to carry concealed firearms with a permit. Now I am getting used to the whole concept while safely back in southern California where the last thing you would want is crazy hopped up sick people driving around with loaded firearms. Road rage would turn into a shoot out. Kick sand in my face on the beach and walk away with a hole in ya. Then I hear another story out of Texas where my grandson is joining the Marines. My son in law The Texan from earlier posts is driving him to his swearing in ceremony on base when they pull up to a long line at the gate. As they draw closer the Texan slams on the brakes yells an expletive and jumps out of the pick up and scrambles around to the back. My grandson just turned 18 jumps out also and for the next few minutes they are unloading shotguns, rifles and handguns while people are honking at them. Later he is complaining to my daughter on the cell phone as to why there isn't a sign further back in line telling people that loaded weapons are not allowed on base. She is having visions of her husband and son on the six o'clock news being hauled off by military police for storming a military base with loaded weapons. Of course I am nonplused as she recounts this story later to me on the cell. Never a dull moment.