A Saner World

A Saner world One question which has come up several times with our Servas hosts is about American gun laws…I’m asked to explain them and I can do so in an academic way, but when the conversation turns to the “why” part of the equation, I’m lost to explain something I don’t understand myself. New Zealanders just shake their heads at the lax laws and prevalence of individuals who seem to feel the necessity to arm themselves as if an armed invasion from Canada or Mexico was just around the corner. In NZ, for example, people don’t own hand guns…None, nada, can’t be done. No pistols are in private homes, period. End of conversation. Rifles and shotguns can be owned but under strict rules. Guns must be in a locked cabinet with firing mechanisms or bolts removed and ammunition stored in a separate compartment. Police have the right to, and do, make periodic unannounced checks to make sure those rules are adhered to. There are no automatic weapons allowed in the country, and semi-automatic rifles have a limit of rounds which can be held in a given clip. Police interviews neighbors, wives, and/or children of the applicant for a gun permit to make sure that the person is sane and responsible, which would rule out many of the hand gun owners I’ve come across in the States. This interview is done without the presence or knowledge of the applicant. The young brother of my daughter’s best friend in elementary school accidently killed a school friend by showing dad’s pistol which was loaded and as happens far too many times in our society tragedy was avoidable but wasn’t. Carol had a nephew who was murdered by a jealous ex-boyfriend who killed him and the girlfriend. Columbine, Sandy Hook and a myriad of other events which horrify our nation occur so often that it no longer shocks us…saddens us to be sure…we shake our heads ask “Why,” and then go about our business waiting for the other shoe to drop. This insanity just in unfathomable to New Zealanders. Our timing in the South Island couldn’t have been more perfect. We had to book our ferry passage back to the North Island before we left Auckland three weeks ago and we just had to make our best guess. We decided on the 30th to return. Our guesstimation seemed a little off when we had two days in Blenheim where people told us there was nothing to do. But we contacted a Servas host who was a fiber artist and they graciously took us in. Christine is a “felter,” and does incredible work…creative and innovative (is that the same thing?) she and Carol spent the day making projects and Carol was delighted to have such an up close and very personal experience with a fellow fiber nut. We arrived on the evening of the 28th and were told that they had to be out for the evening. Bob is a Rotarian, and to raise money for the various projects that Rotary does in the area they had volunteered to help take inventory at a local version of Target/Walmart complex and wouldn’t be home until 3:30 the following morning. We told them that we would be happy to come along and help which would mean that they didn’t have to work into the dead of then night. We started at 8:00 in the evening and counted baby clothes, containers of clothes pins, garden pots and all kinds of assorted junk that is to be found in these places..it was both comforting and discomforting to know that New Zealanders are no better than we are at buying cheap crap and gadgets. We finished about midnight and with the four of us working, they made the same amount for rotary that they would have if we hadn’t shown up. It was a way that we could give back a little for their generosity. A cup of tea/hot chocolate upon return led to more conversation before we all went to bed quite “knackered” as Christine put it The next day while the Two “C’s” felted their way through the morning, Bob took me to the air museum which has an excellent collection of WWI aircraft, both original and reproduced. They are displayed in realistic settings with actual photographs to lend the air of authenticity. They even have some actual plane parts from the “Red Baron’s” plane which was shot down by Australian troops.

After lunch we decided to take a “walk” to overlook the valley. Walk indeed, we climbed and climbed to the top of a very high ridge. The view was indeed lovely, but I huffed and puffed my way up the long climb which took close to two hours to achieve. The way down was easier on the heart and lungs but not on the knees. Jim arrived back at the house quite knackered for the second day in a row. I told Christine that if I had known how far it was, I wouldn’t have done it, but now that we were back, I was glad I had. Our time in Blenheim was anything but wasted. We were busy and they were wonderful people and we found no end of things to talk about from society to our individual histories to life itself. I can’t think of a single Servas host/hostess with whom conversation flowed so easily and intelligently. It was a perfect visit and way to end our South Island experience. So we leave the South Island and are crossing the Cook Strait as I write this letter. My count is now up to about 41 million of the 60 million sheep, about 1 million of the possums dead on the highways, and one hubcap back on the car without anybody knowing the difference. We have nine days left and while I know we have adventures ahead of us, it’s hard to believe they could be any better than our time in the South. Sign of the day: “Beware of seals parked on the highway at night.” WHAT?

It seems during very high tides and large storms the seals come up off the rocky beach and “park” themselves for the night on the highway…Talk about speed bumps !