Real Safe Havens

When my kids were little, I taught ’em the two best places to run for help were police stations and gun shops. If the trouble they were running from was Large & Lethal, I knew either of those places were full of folks who’d be armed, alert and prepared to go to General Quarters to protect a child from any harm. What kinda help do you think they could get in a Gun-Free Child-Safe Place?

“Ooohh, come hide with me in the corner, dearie! We’ll weep uncontrollably together and if necessary, we’ll grovel and beg for mercy!” Yeah, that’s where I want my kid going. Mahatma Gandhi was a really nice guy, okay, but not my first choice for my kids’ bodyguard. If my stand-in has to be a guy in sandals, I’d prefer it was Spartacus. At least he had a sword and an attitude.

Not so long ago, you could even tell your kid to run into a bar if somebody mean was after ’em. You were virtually assured there would be at least a couple of men in there quaffing boilermakers who would be just tickled purple to defend a scared kid. In fact, there was a guaranteed butt-whuppin’ involved, generally happening to the next dude who came through the door. Might be the wrong guy. Might even be several wrong guys. But there would be two absolute results: (1) buttwhuppin’(s), and (2), a safe, happy child sittin’ on the bar enjoying a frosty 7-Up.