THE QUAKER AND THE GUNSMITH

With the help of a Mennonite.

Or why - yet again - I am not an artist.

It was Sunday I was in the city early as I had to find a free space to park and meet up at the steps of the tute by 10. It was a great morning - I over compensated for the drive down so had plenty of time, I also had an empty bag, so I could swarve about the Loop making snaps without the hassle of trying to find the camera in the bag. It was out found quite a few things surreal wandering and made it in time to let her into the Hopper exhibit while I went around back and prepared for classes and sat quietly out in the first hint of spring so far.

The main goal of the day was to head out to Elmwood Park and thank buddy for his help in trying to get the chandelier into the country. Being I we drove the entire length of Grand Avenue rather than take the Eisenhower, as it was a better way of seeing the city. I realised that I was taking the subway for speed but popping one’s head out of the ground every once in a while doesn’t necessarily give one an idea of the city - I started taking bussed and this time took a street the 74 blocks. Stopped a couple of times for those truly lost signs days gone by - a Paul Bunyan type holding a tail pile, a giant crayfish, things that scream the states.

To tell you the truth didn’t know how to act or what to expect walking into the gun dealership - those 15 years at Friends had me wonder if this was the right thing to be doing.

It was this coupled with the bipolar attitude of contemporary society. He knew that we were artists, which stereotypically means the wrong side of the fence - if he were equally stereotypical. I’d seen ARMED IN AMERICA where every gun toter was spouting the second amendment.

I was worried about his feelings of me taking snaps in the place through our perceived mutual misunderstandings.

Ah 15 years at Friends taught me not to judge or at least be willing to modify my judgement when encountering something that doesn’t fit.

It was a mom and pop place his wife was waiting on someone he was in the back room and got up when he heard that weird accent that happens when you cross an Ontarian with someone who lives around the bay.

He came out to say hello exchanged horror stories about the ATF. I photographed both of them together first with Zequinho wanted everything to turn out. Then with the digital so as to send buddy one. Which were sort of unfortunate.

Felt better when I realised that the place looked like a camera shop. I could almost forget the lethal weapons. Guns spook me I don’t care how inert they are. I made small talk but was uneasy being close to them.

I could hear the firing range in the back.

But buddy was great he was as geekish about guns as I am about cameras. Others joined in talking about the representation of guns in movies and on TV. Buddy mentions breathing and I - finally feeling at home bring up breathing to steady a camera. He takes us in the back to show up the firing range. Which is deafening when the door is opened. He is strict no live ammo with the guns.

He gives us the rundown of who is who in the firing range saying how one person is a model new citizen. To me he seems strange as while everyone is dressed casually he is in a Burberry and tie. He also towers over the rest of the crowd.

So far the guns have been revolvers and rifles but for him buddy goes into the safe and brings out an automatic strange looking gun. He pulls the trigger. Beth and I flinch, we want to leave, in cases they are fine out of them…

Buddy keeps asking the owner if parts cane be switched and the owner keeps shaking his head. It won’t be legal. Buddy wants to buy it but wants to fire it first but only after he knows the price. There is a stalemate.

We head back to the front of the shop. Meet his wife. Ask if there is a favourite liquor or beer that he likes. He doesn’t want anything, as he didn’t do anything we thank him and leave.

I was glad that I am not an artist. If I were I would have already known that what this person is doing is bad, that all his type are evil and wouldn’t have to go out in the world to have my most declarations questioned. That I wouldn't bother to try to understand his position or his ideas the way the moose stew slurpers and cod tongue kissers cannot understand my herbivore status.

Buddy was a great guy, we probably would have drinks together or meet in any other circumstance but by both of us being open and willing to help I came away seeing humanity in someone that we rampant liberals are supposed to despise. Beth kept saying that she felt that we all probably weren’t all that far off philosophically as for me I always find it nice when what most people see as black and white end up in shades of grey.

Guns should be tightly registered and regulated as we do cars, dogs and the like. I can also see why my opposites can say that guns don’t kill...as I cannot imagine - well the exception of Burberry Buddy - anyone there going beyond hunting. But this also could be 15 years at Friends.