Dad wasn't a shooter (but he didn't mind guns). Mom hated guns. One of my older brothers (when I was about 5 y/o) had a .22 lr rifle that he got caught mis-using (shooting at a swing set in the back yard), so that ceased firarms bieing in the house from that point until much later.

I think I was born fascinated with guns, and looked at the few that friends and relatives had or read all that I could about firearms. My Dad did buy a bb gun, that I was allowed supervised use of, when I was about 12 y/o.

At the age of 15 y/o my cousin was attending a Hunter Safety course, and needed another person to fill in the minimum enrollment needed for the course to be run. He contacted me. I asked Dad if it was OK for me to attend. He and Mom had a discussion, and Dad persuaded Mom that since we lived in Oregon, and guns were in about half the households, I should at least get some safety training just in case I handled someone elses gun. I not only got a 100% in the course, I was invited by the instructor to join his Explorer Post - which specialized in hunting, fishing, camping and related outdoor activities. The passion and training really begins there.

Once in the Explorer Post, Dad bought "himself" a semi-auto .22 rifle (Mom couldn't object, too much, with Dad getting a gun for himself), but for my use - with the caveat that I had to go a year without any firearm mishaps before I could have one of my own. I made it the year plus. I don't think Dad fired a single round from that gun.

For my 17th birthday, Mom and Dad gave me a sporterized 03A3 Springfield.

So, Walt Labaugh, retired SF 1SG, Distinguished Rifle and Pistol, the Hunter Safety Instructor and Explorer Post Leader, gets the credit for the bulk, but it may not have happened if Dad hadn't been in my corner.