The world has certainly changed.
My dad was a prison guard for decades.
We had our share of enraged ex-cons casing the house over the years and dad never once hesitated.
He’d walk out on the porch with his pride and joy [a “Dirty Harry” .44 magnum] and beg them to step into the driveway.
Naturally, none of them ever did.
At the age of 10, my dad taught me to shoot and basically put me in charge of protecting my mom.
[”guns are dangerous”, etc etc etc]
One night after dad left for work, some raving maniac began hammering on the front door, screaming about paybacks.
I went to the gun cabinet and got the .22 Ruger Blackhawk and pointed it at his face, which I could just barely see through the front door window.
Boy, did his eyes ever get big.....and then he took off running.
Still sobbing hysterically, mom called dad and he came home.
Heck if I know why...the kook’d already left and I was determined to sit up all night in my Snoopy jammies, with the .22, my Poodle Fifi [seriously] standing guard, waiting for him to come back.
I had it covered...:))
[I suspect I did not have the “average” childhood]...LOL
I would say not!
LOL!