Doing a revised version of this one, the pics of main character Bo Van Dam delighting in guns kept getting erased, due to censorship on this forum, best I can tell. I mean, I kind of get it, but mostly, it messes with my art. An older version still exists though. Ha! What a country.
https://iouablogname.blogspot.com/2016/07/dad-really-loves-his-guns.html
FOND DU LAC, WI—Following a busy stretch of summer highlighted by Father’s Day and the Fourth of July, local dad Bo Van Dam set aside some time with me to discuss the truly important things in life.
“They’re blessings. They mean the world to me,” Bo said. “If I somehow lost them, I’d be a complete mess. I don’t know if I could even bring myself to drive to Wal-Mart and buy new guns. The ones I have now feel irreplaceable.”
With his two kids frolicking after a bunny in the Van Dam’s backyard, Bo raised from his lawn chair and reached for his wallet with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Get a load of these pictures. Here’s Lita… and this is Damien. He just turned four on Thursday. Unreal. Where does the time go? Sometimes I just want to hold them dearly and plead. Like, ‘Let’s stay in this moment forever.’ And we never do, of course, but there’s still so much love to treasure... Anyway, they’re both Desert Eagles.”Van Dam’s chest swelled as he chronicled the names and pictures of 16 other firearms. His mood became anxious as he gazed at his daughters performing wild stunts on a rickety playground set. I asked how often he fears for their safety.
“All the time,” he said. “Hell, my worst fear is them being taken away from me. But hey, that’s why most nights I lock them up in a gun cabinet.”
When questioned about the safety concerns he might have as a dad and fierce advocate of the second amendment, Van Dam said:
“I tell my kids to stay vigilant. Keep an eye out for anybody who might try to steal daddy’s guns.”
The daughters Van Dam approached their papa to ask if they could help themselves to snacks in the kitchen. He agreed but reminded them that bedtime was “right around the corner.” He watched them enter the house with a wistful grin.
“You know, it’s the damnedest thing... I forgot to mention my real pride and joy.”
With that he excused himself to the garage and returned with a pair of gleaming semi-automatic pistols. He nodded at the weapons in his left hand and then his right.
“That’s Pride, and that’s Joy. If I had it my way, these two would always be by my side. Sometimes I just embrace them—so close and snug. And it’s like they know exactly what I’m thinkin’…
“Shit’s real,” he added.
I inquired about Van Dam’s two daughters.
“Oh, the young one’s seven and the other’s nine,” Van Dam said. “So, they can pretty well fend for themselves. Hell, they started up a lemonade stand to raise money to buy me a Fleet Farm gift card for Father’s Day. And I used that card to get me this awesome t-shirt!”
The shirt reads "World's Best Gun Owner."
Suddenly on the brink of tears, Van Dam declared:
“I couldn’t ask for a better shirt!”
But in no time, he recalled his fatherly duties. He dabbed his eyes, exhaled a mighty gust, and gathered his composure before helping his daughters to bed. While the girls brushed their teeth, he opened his black, American-made steel gun cabinet to get his favorite AR-15, Tammy.
“This is just a Saturday night thing,” he said. “You know, a perk. Some way to say, ‘Hey, you’re special to me.’”
With that he tucked the weapon into bed. As he left the bedroom, he was mindful to step over his daughters, who sleep on the floor Saturday nights.
He let out a yawn and it was clear that Bo’s own weariness was setting in. But rest was a luxury daddy Van Dam could not yet afford. He remembered another chore, one that required great care and nurturing.
“Oops!” he exclaimed. “Almost forgot to give Tammy her oil.”
The Van Dam daughters were annoyed when their dad flipped the lights back on. They groaned as he rushed back into their bedroom to oil up his machine gun. Bo advised them to “Relax” and “Think about Tammy for a change.”
Minutes later, with Tammy responsibly maintained, Bo succeeded a second time in not stepping on his daughters as he left their room. Bo was one exhausted dad, but before we parted ways, he had something else he wanted to share.
“Let me show you my Freedom Blanket,” he said.
On a final note, Bo was asked if he had any advice for other dads.
“I can only say what works for me: Fighting like hell, trying my damnedest, and putting my faith in God.”
Bo raised the shotgun in his right hand to clarify.
“I named this one God,” he said.
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