“At the end of the day I say a quiet prayer of thanks that my Glock stayed right where I had put it that morning. The best day is a quiet day.”
I never had anything to do with guns. They weren’t on the radar.
All that changed two years ago when the United States Supreme Court ruled that individual states could not restrict individual citizens’ right to carry guns. Maybe it was the “forbidden fruit” opportunity to do something which my deep-blue state had kept me from doing for so many years, or maybe I had an unconscious foreboding of what was to come, but I soon found myself sitting in a concealed carry gun class, listening to an Israeli expat tell us all about when we could draw our weapons.
I barely passed the course which included a trip to a local gun range, but soon enough, I had my permit. Shortly afterwards, a small Glock semi-automatic, with a matching “tuckable” holster, found itself occasionally on my hip. Ongoing visits to the firing range improved my accuracy. (I don’t think I’ll ever be a sharpshooter.)
Mentioning my accomplishment to a few friends at shul revealed an interest to start a concealed carry group. We went to our Rabbi, who, much to my surprise, gave the project his okay. Within a month, a dozen members were sitting in the shul’s social hall watching PowerPoint presentations at a concealed carry class led by the owner of the security company.
With the rise of antisemitic attacks on US communities, our concealed carry group went from a casual club into an integral part of shul life.
By Shmuel Feld
