Some gun lore exists in the Utah-dwelling contingency of my maternal side, the ones that sentimentally frequent the ancestral homestead on weekends to camp and do cowboy-like things, getting close to our roots in very literal ways. Tales are told of day-long hunts for animals, maybe resulting in one casualty, brought back to suburbia, ceremoniously and respectfully drained in a laundry sink, meat used for months, and hides used for other thoughtful purposes. I don't understand it, but I respect that it's done with calculation and thoughtfulness for the life spared. The gun appreciation seems to stem from a pioneer-like dependency: vehicles by which our ancestors could obtain meat in the depth of winter in the Wild West.
There's something barbaric and cave-man about guns, and I don't like it. I don't think it's cute when girls indulge their Idaho boyfriends and go to a shooting range because it's 'Merica and we can shoot off these huge things with abandon BECAUSE WE CAN. I don't think it's endearing when Southern boys go off on a beer-fueled hunt, driving their huge trucks, confederate flags flying high. My perception of the Founding Fathers is one that wouldn't find this amusing, either.
There's far too much access, and while it is a right to defend yourself, semi-automatic weapons used in schools aren't the same as Constitution-era muskets to fend off enemy Brits. Too many in this contemporary era have perished for guns to not become an expensive right. A heavily red-taped one. A heavily regulated one. More laws make our society more expensive? Tax it to the nines to account for it, because no tax, no amount, can begin to approach the debt that continues to accrue with each human life taken in senselessness.
And what about mental health!