(A period lithograph of the Boston Tea Party. The Crown’s response to the riot provoked much activity by the Committees of Correspondence in the several Colonies. Something similar is now happening on the Internet by concerned citizens).

I am sitting next to the window in the living room at Big Pink. I have been typing since long before dawn and have got precisely nowhere.

I am usually at Refuge Farm of a Sunday, and this particular one- the one celebrating the Risen Christ- is unusual. I have cracked a bit of the code about why mornings have become so complex. The Internet seems to have made us all members in a version of the Committees of Correspondence. The old media is dead, and we have busily new established networks to replace it.

The streams are pretty much exclusive from one another- things like The Daily Kos on the one side and a host of conservative blogs on the other.

You will recall from American History 101 that the Committees were formed throughout the colonies as a means of coordinating action against Great Britain. Many were formed by the legislatures of the respective colonies, others by extra-governmental associations such as the Sons of Liberty in the several colonies. In any case, the members of these organizations represented concerned citizens of each colony. It took some time, and finally an act as dramatic as the Boston Port Bill in 1774 to coordinate the colonies in action against Great Britain.

The Port Bill was one of the Intolerable Acts imposed by Great Britain to secure damages for the Boston Tea Party, among other outrages perpetrated by the colonists against the Crown. It effectively closed the port of Boston until compensation was provided. On the British side, the measure was viewed as common sense and reasonable, since the Bostonians only had to pay damages and the harbor would be re-opened.

The colonists, for their part, viewed the Act as an outrageous assault on Liberty, which used to be spelled with a capital L.

Anyway, I get correspondence that is so dense and chock-full of issues that it takes some time to square myself up and respond adequately. Back and forth it goes, sometimes in far too intemperate manner for wider distribution, across the political spectrum. I have pals on the left as well as the right, so sometimes I feel myself besieged by the fervor between two world-views that are as incompatible as those between Colonist and Crown.

If I had been on the farm this morning (as usual) I was going to address the garden issue and was going to compile some wonderful appreciation of critter management along with some tips I received from alert readers.

To one degree or another, the correspondence circulates about the documents left to us by the Framers, and the various perversions forced on the basic social contract between Rulers and Ruled in these United States.

As you might imagine, these are strongly held views by people who swore oaths to defend the Constitution against “all enemies, foreign and domestic.”

The times are dire, whether one comes at the problem from left or right.

Because the views are so strongly felt both for and against what is going on in America, I realize that the more bucolic stream of tales is more popular that the apocalyptic ones, and thus I am torn between publishing alarmist tomes and the sunnier tales of peaceful life in the country.

Hence, I have a story this morning that combines both. It was weekend adventure in collective empowerment at Refuge Farm.

It is a very curious America out there these days, as demonstrated by the unannounced and unexpected internal passport checks conducted by the Virginia Patrol on the way down on Friday on the way to conduct absolutely banal and ordinary personal business. My goal was to ferry the police car down there and get it out of the weather in the lean-to next to the barn, now that it has been serviced and has had a cursory washing of the winter from the paint.

I thought about throwing the bicycle in the back seat and peddling into the depot in downtown Culpeper, but couldn’t quite get around to figuring out Amtrak’s schedule. By pure coincidence, LTJG Socotra asked me if he could come down and exercise his Second Amendment rights on Saturday, and saw my opportunity. I said: “Sure.”

He asked if his buddy Brian and his Dad Joe could come along as well, and I said if he would give me a ride back North to Big Pink when we were done, I would be happy to set up the range and do some proficiency shooting.

Joe recently lost his wife and had decided to throw himself into a hobby to divert his emotion. He decided on marksmanship, since he hated bowling, and had just purchased a Baretta Storm CX4 9mm rifle that he wanted to try out.

(The Baretta CX4 Storm rifle shot tight groups for everyone, right out of the box. It displays multiple features which would be banned under provisions of Senator Feinstein’s gun control bill. Photo Baretta).

And so it was. By noon the house had filled up with family and guests. An Easter luncheon was prepared and I went next door to ask the Russians if they minded if we shot up the lower pasture, and Mattski and Natasha were pleased to take a break from planting. We practice the best range safety- hot and cold range and no one anywhere near the line of fire with a magazine in any weapon. No alcohol at the range, though responsible drinking is encouraged afterward.

It was not quite the Festival of All Calibers, since I did not want to clean everything I own before jumping in my son’s Explorer to come home, but there were a couple long guns I wanted to try out and everyone is good about sharing ammunition and weapons to get the most out of the experience.

We blasted away merrily in rotation for about three hours.

Over the hill, someone had a rapid-fire shotgun and up across the road there was some kind of counter-battery fire. Ear protection was a must.

It was literally a blast, and we did it on our own property, not bothering anyone. Just like the neighbors.

I have to say, there is very little in life more empowering than the feeling you get pumping lead through what Senator Feinstein calls an “assault rifle.” It is nothing of the sort. It is just good fun.

Anyway, there was a lot of correspondence about that matter that required answering, and I am late again this morning, as usual.

Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com