Mr. Griswald walked up to the wagon and introduced himself. I introduced myself, as well as Mark and Billy Davis, Mark’s friend. “These children are twelve minutes late for class.” Mr. Griswald looked at his pocket watch to enforce his statement. I tried to explain how a Western school operated. Many families didn’t have time pieces, so the children had to judge their pace by the bell. “They’ll be no bell for my classroom. Punctuality is the responsible of the individual.” His expression was firm.
“I see,” I stated. But I wasn’t so sure he saw. “Well fellas, you better hustle!” I gave Mark a pat on the back and helped him down off the wagon. Then I helped Billy down. He accidently hit my rifle and it fell off the wagon. Billy immediately apologized for his clumsiness.
Naturally, my boy Mark bent over to pick it up and hand it to me. “Don’t touch that!” Mr. Griswald suddenly shouted.
Mark’s hand froze. “But it’s not-“ he started as he once again bent to pick it up.
“I said don’t touch it!” Mr. Griswald ordered gruffly.
I stared at Mr. Griswald, not quite believing that he was talking to my son like that – especially when I was still standing right there! I didn’t much appreciate it either. “But it’s not good for a gun to stay in the dirt,” Mark tried to explain calmly.
But Mr. Griswald was anything but calm! He was acting like Mark had just threatened to burn the school down or something! “Take your places in the schoolroom…immediately!” he ordered Mark and Billy.
Hello? Didn’t he see me, the father, sitting right there in the wagon? Didn’t he think I was capable of disciplining my own child? But Mark said nothing. He nodded, gave me one last look, then hurried into the classroom.
Mr. Griswald bent over and picked up my rifle. He held it out to me and asked, “Is this gun loaded, Mr. McCain?”
Now I ask, what good is an unloaded gun? “Certainly,” I answered as I took my gun from him and sat it securely on my lap.
“In the name of sanity, how can you place a loaded weapon within easy reach of children?”
I remained calm knowing he was from back east and not used to the western culture’s way of life. “Your points well taken, Mr. Griswald,” I stated. “But it can’t go off without being cocked. And the reason it’s loaded is because a rifle’s a necessary safeguard in open country.” I tried educating him on some facts about the West.
“Safeguard? Carelessness is inexcusable anywhere!” Mr. Griswald stated.
“I just explained-“ I started, but he wouldn’t let me finish Mr. high and mighty thought he was so much wiser then me. He ordered – yes, ordered – me not to bring a firearm to the school again.
I stared at his retreating figure as he walked into the schoolhouse. Boy, did I feel sorry for those kids right now!