There we were, sitting across a square
table from one another. A platter of “fun food” in between us and
nary a smartphone in sight. The whole family. In a restaurant.
Having a nice time. Just talking.
What are the odds?
As is usual for us, a round-robin of
non-sequitur arguments changes the course of conversation as if we
were speaking in pinball.
“The doctors' office had new fish,
but I hit a bank shot off the jungle gym and taco Tuesday has been
replaced by can I have new sneakers?
I
could tell you how we got on the subject of gun control, but it would
take too long, and the bells and lights from that silver ball's
awkward trajectory would be even more maddening than the thousand
versions of the single question my six-year-old and 10-year old had
already started to ask: “When will our food get here?”
Let's suffice it to say my husband
sprung the ball into the maze, it dinged off of the Champ, lit up
Ittybit, and somehow it got stuck under my flipper, tilting the
machine.
Here's the gist of what I tried to
impress upon my family:
"Every state should have a
Department of Firearms (just like the Department of Motor Vehicles)
that licenses gun owners and registers guns by class. Initial
licenses would be awarded after successful completion of written,
field and background tests, and periodic renewals would require
repeated background checks. Furthermore, gun owners would be required
to carry liability insurance for each firearm in their possession.
Let the risk pools float where they may."
In other words: Let's just lay these
cards out on the actuarial table ...
"Sure, you can have that AR-15,
but if you are under 25 or have teenagers at home, it is going to put
you in a higher risk pool. Accident or not, you will be liable for
damages."
I mean if you injured someone with
your car you'd be liable.
We don't just say: Hey, here's your
car. Try not to kill someone, OK?
No! We say: 'You need to be
licensed, the car has to be registered and inspected. And if you
abuse this privilege you can expect to have all of that stuff
revoked.'
Why is the right to bear arms more
inalienable than the right not to be shot in your school by a gun
enthusiast's alienated teenager?
Crickets.
The conversation I thought we were
having disappeared.
The kids had tuned me out right after
the word “Department,” so their glazed expressions, by the time I
got to “Liability Insurance,” wasn't much of a surprise.
But my husband, lost in the bluish
light of his smartphone, made me forget about my being lost in a mire
of my own monologue.
I fumed as he furiously typed away on
his cell phone..
"You know ... I hardly ever
speak to other human beings during the day ... the least you could do
is humor me at dinner."
He smiled and handed me his phone.
Still on the screen was a familiar
icon, with a message that began:
"Thank you for contacting the
White House ... "
"I told them 'my wife has a
brilliant idea. ...'
Betcha didn't know there's an app for
that."
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