The first time I shot a firearm was when my Dad took me to the range to fire some semi-automatic rifles. I was perhaps 9. I had been shooting a BB gun then, and was glad to try out the real thing. It was the 1970s and my dad was the Police Lieutenant in charge of three SWAT teams in Oakland, California. I was quite impressed with the semi-automatics, and recall gaining confidence in handling the kick, but I have no idea now what they were.
Stories about firearms in my home typically ended with tear gas, buildings on fire, people jumping through windows, and bad guys carried out dead.
One of my first priorities as a newlywed was having my Dad train my wife on the use of a hand gun.
Even so, it was through hunting that I developed a love of guns and their capabilities.