“Safe”

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Estimated time to read:

4–6 minutes

When I leave the house, I go through the age-old rit­u­al of mak­ing sure I have every­thing I need for my ven­ture out­side. Men usu­al­ly tend to keep things in their pants pock­ets in this coun­try, so I check for my key­chain, wal­let, phone, and, usu­al­ly, a pock­etknife. Mind you, all these are in my front pock­ets – after a bout of sci­at­i­ca and back pain years ago, noth­ing will go into my rear pock­ets. I don’t check for my glass­es as they’re always on my face when I’m not in bed or in the show­er – I couldn’t check for any of this with­out them.

My father car­ried many things in his pock­ets, too. Wallet, keys, pock­etknife, and hand­ker­chief in his pants pock­ets. He also had sun­glass­es, pen, pen­cil, and a small notepad in his shirt pock­et when he went off to work. As a life­long Scout, he was always pre­pared. My neigh­bor, Uncle Tom, car­ried around sim­i­lar things, but he added a hand­gun. He served as a coun­ty police offi­cer and was required to have a weapon whether on or off duty. I under­stood that it was his job as an offi­cer of the law to be pre­pared, and the hand­gun was part of that job. In turn, that made me feel safe know­ing that he was ready for any­thing, so I had no need to car­ry a weapon of my own.

The idea of feel­ing safe is a tricky con­cept. Having locks on our doors, secu­ri­ty lights on our garages, track­ing our kids on a phone app – these help us in our quest to feel and be safe. 

When I was a kid in sub­ur­ban Louisville, we did lock our doors at night but had no out­side lights. Our pool at the Moose Lodge had a life­guard, which helped in our sense of safe­ty. In the sum­mer­time, we’d get on our bikes in the morn­ing and ride all around town, and our par­ents usu­al­ly had no idea where we were from one minute to the next. Our church youth group had a vis­it from a rur­al Canadian church group after con­vinc­ing their par­ents that the United States was actu­al­ly safe. All they knew of this coun­try was what they saw in movies and on TV.

When I moved back to Louisville in the late 90s, I worked the ear­ly morn­ing shift at the pub­lic radio sta­tions, arriv­ing around 4 am at the down­town stu­dios. I had to walk a block or so, and through a dark alley to reach the front door. I usu­al­ly kept my keys in my hand to help me feel safe. No harm ever came to me. That’s not to say that bad things nev­er hap­pen — of course not. I’ve heard many sto­ries from friends about being hurt or injured through per­son­al attacks, and my heart breaks for the Fletcher fam­i­ly in Memphis after the young mom was abduct­ed and killed while out for her morn­ing run.

Do we ever feel tru­ly safe? If we stop and con­sid­er the mil­lions of oppor­tu­ni­ties that harm could befall us in a typ­i­cal day, it’s astound­ing and could sure­ly be par­a­lyz­ing. Car acci­dent, dog bite, food poi­son­ing, ran­dom attack, sprained ankle, bro­ken fin­ger from a heavy win­dow falling on it, bruised rib from sneez­ing too hard, falling down the stairs, or falling up the stairs. This is all before 10 am.

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A local church is adver­tis­ing a “con­cealed car­ry dead­ly weapon” class with class­room teach­ing and off-site hand­gun instruc­tion. This church also has a vision state­ment  of “equip­ping and empow­er­ing peo­ple to become pas­sion­ate fol­low­ers of Jesus.” I doubt Christ would be seen car­ry­ing a nine mm or Glock to the synagogue. 

Perhaps there are peo­ple who either want to be so pre­pared for every­thing or are so fear­ful of oth­er human beings that a con­cealed dead­ly weapon is nec­es­sary. The only rea­son to car­ry is to be pre­pared to hurt or kill some­one. Not to hunt for tonight’s din­ner. Not to have pop-up tar­get prac­tice. Not to shoot tin cans in a field, or rats at the sewage plant. They’re car­ry­ing a weapon to give them­selves a sense of safety.

On some lev­el, that’s fine for them – if they’re prop­er­ly trained in the use and han­dling of weapons, open-car­ry weapons are clear­ly vis­i­ble and safe, and all per­mits are in order. (Of course, Kentucky did away with con­cealed car­ry per­mits three years ago). 

It doesn’t help when you read of so many firearm attacks and acci­den­tal gun dis­charges in this state. But, my sense of safe­ty feels threat­ened if I know some­one near me has a dead­ly weapon. It’s bad enough when so many folks in Winchester dri­ving 3‑ton weapons-on-wheels can’t obey sim­ple traf­fic rules like using turn sig­nals, not tex­ting while dri­ving, or stop­ping at red lights. But then adding hand­held dead­ly devices like guns gets my anx­i­ety lev­el a bit high.

My life is lived with an inher­ent lev­el of safe­ty already in place. If not, I wouldn’t leave my house. I pray that my kids are being safe in their far-away homes, hav­ing learned some lessons from their par­ents. I have trust in most law enforce­ment orga­ni­za­tions and offi­cers, and in fel­low human beings to do the right thing and watch out for each oth­er. I look both ways when cross­ing the street or even the gro­cery store aisle. And my faith in God pre­pares me for Christian dis­ci­ple­ship and know­ing that I will nev­er look into the eyes of some­one God does not love. That keeps me safe. That gives me hope.

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  • Jim Trimble
    Legacy Contributor

    Jim Trimble was the Rector of Emmanuel Episcopal Church in Winchester. He grew up in Louisville, graduated from Murray State University, and worked for 12 years in a variety of roles at public radio stations. After seminary and ordination, he served churches in Kentucky and South Carolina. Married to Nancy Gift, Jim has a son and two stepdaughters, along with a number of dogs, cats, and chickens near College Park.

    Jim and Nancy have moved to New York State.

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