I may not have been born with a gun in my hand, but I'm pretty sure I came equipped with one in my heart.

Certain life experiences provide us with benchmarks in time, and even when our memories begin to fail us, they still stand as guideposts. Mine tells me clearly that I was interested in guns almost before I could read.

At an age when most pre-schoolers were fixated on comic books, my eyes sought out guns wherever I could find them, and back in those days one of the best places was the Sears & Roebuck Catalog.

(With Honorable Mention going to J.C. Penney and, of course, Monkey Ward's)

Since no one in my family had the slightest interest in firearms, my predilection for them produced more than a little parental consternation, but I suppose I was also born stubborn, so one Christmas, 'Santa Claus' finally caved in.

My First Daisy is long gone, but I remember it was a lever action that only shot air (no projectile). The targets were images of animals printed on thin plastic sheets that were vertically sliced into ribbons about an inch wide. When the puff of air from the Daisy impacted the sheet, you could see where it hit, then try again.

I'd say it was a 'blast' − and I'm sure it was − but the truth is, I already had bigger things in my sights.

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