I was raised differently. I remember a story that my father told me many times of a union strike in the coal mines in "Bloody Harlan" County, Kentucky many years ago. My grandfather, who died long before I was born, was in management and he crossed the picket line every day to keep the mine running. That pissed off the strikers and they came to give him a "Miner's Baptism" one day.

About thirty of the drunken bastards showed up at the house one afternoon and announced their intention of taking "Pete," as my grandfather was known, down to the Cumberland River where they intended to beat his ass and throw him in the water. My grandfather told the rest of the family to get under the bed and DO NOT come outside, no matter what happened. He went out to sit in his porch swing with a hog-leg .45 pistol in his hand.

"Pete, we're gonna whip your ass and throw you in the river," the leader of the mob announced.

My grandfather cocked that pistol and said, "Six of you won't. Who wants to be the first one through the gate?"