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In high school I was a defensive tackle on my football team. I knocked down running backs, receivers, quarterbacks, and blocked kicks.
Now I am old dog with a bad back, the past week or so have been walking with the assistance of a cane (walking stick).
This morning I took my child to a medical appointment and then dropped my little beauty off at school (1st grade). The kids were just sitting down for lunch. If an active-shooter had burst in I could not rush him, my back won't cooperate. And my handguns were left in the car, no CCW allowed in the school.
All I could do is absorb bullets and hope I stopped enough to save my child.
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For 20 years the sea was my home, always recall the sun going down, and my trusty friend, a 1911 pistol, strapped to my side.
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