I grew up with cap pistols. I was, you see, a cowgirl. I wanted to ride the range with Gene Autry and get the bad guys.
I always had a soft spot for the Indians, and I usually was an indian cowgirl.
I had single gunbelts with wooden bullets. I had an imitation pearl handle six-gun once that took those wooden bullets in the cylinder and you could spin it. Hot!
Loved the smell of caps firing.
Had something that looked like a little bomb. You tore off a cap, put it in the nose, threw it in the air, when it landed, it went pop.
I went through miles of caps. We all did. Not one of the kids on the streets of my neighborhood turned out to be murderers. No one I'm aware of became an armed robber.
Toy guns were just that.
Toys.
They weren't scary.
So I'm looking for a cap gun for my grandkid's birthday. Leave it to me, he'll be plinking when he's just a little older and his training will start.
He should know. Just like his mother and father. And his grandparents. And his sister will learn, too.
But for now, cap pistols are in order so he can ride off into the sunset and learn the difference between good guys in white hats and the bad guys in the black hats.
On Earth Day, a little buckaroo came through with his parents. He had western boots on, a western shirt, jeans and a toy six gun on his hip. What a great surprise - the high point of the day. I wanted to go up to his parents and shake their hand.
And TOYS 'R' US just told me that they do not sell anything that can be construed as a firearm.
Politically correct Toys "R" Us just lost a customer.
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