Para Ordinance P14 45 Limited - Double Stack 1911 45acp * Pt 1 Descriptive Overview * PITD

#ParaOrdinance #P1445Limited - Double Stack 1911 45acp * Pt 1 Descriptive Overview * PITD Covering the overall specs and options including a basic field strip for cleaning. Background and History of Para Ordinance Firearms: https://gunivore.com/pistol/para-ordnance-review/ https://duckduckgo.com/?q=Para+ordincance+firearms+history&ia=web This is a part of an ongoing series of descriptive videos detailing firearms and field stripping for the visually impaired. You can check out the full playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCiaCL4He1HEC9yxW9Fv5TvNVqQ_W3zUJ Also check out my Blind Challenge Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCiaCL4He1HGSWnMsa_HcnqSHiRjGahEv *** If you have any suggestions, questions or concerns please leave them below. Thanks for watching and make it an outstanding day! *** I am a proud American, blessed father, a staunch 2A activist and a Marine Corps Veteran that just happens to be 100% blind. This is a look at the Second Amendment, firearms, self Defense, Constitutionally protected rights, Liberty and Freedom from the perspective of a Visually Impaired, Blind American. #PatriotInTheDark If you like what you seen here, please consider showing your support on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/PatriotInTheDark https://www.paypal.me/PatriotInTheDark Also check out our Spreadshirt Shop for Swag: https://shop.spreadshirt.com/patriot-in-the-dark Also find us here: https://odysee.com/$/invite/@PatriotInTheDark:0 https://gunstreamer.com/PatriotInTheDark https://twitter.com/patriot_itd https://www.instagram.com/patriot_in_the_dark/ PatriotInTheDark@gmail.com Disclaimer: No purchase necessary, must abide by all state and federal laws. Void where prohibited. No Puppies or sighted people were hurt during the filming of these videos. ** In Our Youth Our Hearts Were Touched with Fire Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. (1841–1935) Comrades, some of the associations of this day are not only triumphant but joyful. Not all of those with whom we once stood shoulder to shoulder—not all of those whom we once loved and revered—are gone. . . . On this day, at least, we still meet and rejoice in the closest tie which is possible between men—a tie which suffering has made indissoluble for better, for worse. When we meet thus, when we do honor to the dead in terms that must sometimes embrace the living, we do not deceive ourselves. We attribute no special merit to a man for having served when all were serving. We know that if the armies of our war did anything worth remembering, the credit belongs not mainly to the individuals who did it, but to average human nature. We also know very well that we cannot live in associations with the past alone, and we admit that if we would be worthy of the past we must find new fields for action or thought and make for ourselves new careers. But, nevertheless, the generation that carried on the war has been set apart by its experience. Through our great good fortune, in our youth our hearts were touched with fire. It was given to us to learn at the outset that life is a profound and passionate thing. . . . We have seen with our own eyes beyond and above the gold fields the snowy heights of honor, and it is for us to bear the report to those who come after us. But above all, we have learned that whether a man accepts from Fortune her spade, and will look downward and dig, or from Aspiration her axe and cord, and will scale the ice, the one and only success which it is his to command is to bring to his work a mighty heart. Such hearts—ah me, how many!—were stilled twenty years ago; and to us who remain behind is left this day of memories. Every year—in the full tide of spring—at the height of the symphony of flowers and love and life—there comes a pause, and through the silence we hear the lonely pipe of death. Year after year lovers wandering under the apple boughs and through the clover and deep grass are surprised with sudden tears as they see black veiled figures stealing through the morning to a soldier’s grave. Year after year the comrades of the dead follow with public honor, procession and commemorative flags and funeral march—honor and grief from us who stand almost alone, and have seen the best and noblest of our generation pass away. But grief is not the end of all. I seem to hear the funeral march become a paean. I see beyond the forest the moving banners of a hidden column. Our dead brothers still live for us, and bid us think of life, not death—of life to which in their youth they lent the passion and glory of the spring. As I listen, the great chorus of life and joy begins again, and amid the awful orchestra of seen and unseen powers and destinies of good and evil our trumpets sound once more a note of daring, hope, and will. #NeverForget #911