Dude, I live in southwest Missouri, the Mecca of lead mining, where everyone weighs an extra pound just because they breathed the tainted air. A smelter ran for decades upwind of my home. If I plant something, I hit a point about eight inches deep that I have to call in help because I can't lift the shovel. We don't worry about radon in our basement, the concrete has built in radiation shielding. The local historical society had a grand central lobby, and the pride of the museum was one of the largest crystals of Galena ever mined, it's as big as a shopping cart and weighs several tons. The pilngs the put underneath it fell through into an unknown mine shaft, in one of the most ironic mining accidents ever. Going over maps and records, apparently the gigantic blob of ore came from that claim, and probably dropped within a few yards of where it was found. It took four years, but they finally retrieve"ole' Zeke" (yes, the rock had been named) and put him back with stronger flooring. heck, on the abstract of my property, the mining rights to my property were sold dozens of times, and even to this day, the mining rights are owned by an investment firm in New Jersey.
People refer to us as inbred, backward, drug added poltroons, but really, the problem is that lead wheel weight you drive on. It's probably made out of recycled lead that barely escaped being swallowed by one of the local children.
Anyway, the wife already ripped off the privates when I brought home that Browning. Being from Nebraska, originally, I was born with brass cojones, but at the time she took them, they had developed a heavy plating, almost .15 inches. It's no wonder they hung down to my knees and clatter when I walked.