Utah and the I-PhoneWritten by Ray Shay

The Double Yellow Line

Theresa and I discussed taking our family on a ski vacation to Mammoth. We love Mammoth, but both the skiing and lodging can be expensive for a family of five. But more importantly, I really prefer not to drive on undivided freeways.
 
Something just does not seem right about other cars being driven by amateurs or worse approaching our family at a high rate of speed and we are only separated by a painted double yellow line on a dark, oily roadway.

Without getting into the grim physics related to vehicle accidents, I just decided to pass on that drive.   I purposely dodged ever working Traffic Division on SDPD.  I think traffic cops, motor officers and traffic investigators are amazing people, but I just never felt I had the right stuff.  Too much math, polishing your motorcycle and dealing with a different type of mayhem compared to street gang violence.  I put all those traffic thoughts to the side as we headed out to the beautiful State of Utah.

Life sure seems to be cheaper in Utah. Gas alone was around $3.50 per gallon.  How is that possible? During our trip we met a San Diego family who commented, "it's like Costco around here, everything is bargain priced." They were right.  In addition to reduced costs for lodging and lift tickets, the local people were really friendly and just seemed to run at a different pace, a little slower.  It really was a nice change from San Diego.

You may think I am a bit paranoid, since I do not like to drive on freeways without dividers.  I have another "glitch" I picked up over many years in law enforcement. I always want to know where each of our three sons, Troy, Raymond and Ryan are 24/7.  To help satisfy this concern we purchased each of them their own I-Phone.  Sorry parents, yes even our eight year old son Ryan.

Utah Gas Prices

We want them to embrace technology early, but I also like the option of knowing exactly where they are.  It still amazes me I can log in on my I-phone and in less than one minute know their location within about fifty feet.   If they say they are going somewhere, we can always check on them. What did that great American President Ronald Reagan say, "Trust but verify."
 
The other beauty of the I-phone is if any one of them call for help, I will find them.  They don't really need to know the address, who's party they are at or the name of the street they are on.  Call for help and Theresa or I will be on our way.

 Some people may call it big brother? Maybe. I really don't care. I think it is pretty darn cool. To quote one my fathers favorites expressions we all heard him say when we were growing up, " I don't give a rat's (Adam Sam Sam)." So yes in these days and times, I want the option that if our kids need our help, we can always find them.

Last Day at Brianhead, Utah

I know Raymond our twelve year old was pleased to have his I-Phone with him in Utah.  He was Instagraming, Texting and Snapshoting most of the trip.  

As we were riding on the ski lift the second day of our trip the subject of his I-phone came up. Raymond quickly tapped both upper pockets of his black Nerf ski jacket and turned and looked at me. I knew right then that under his opaque ski goggles and ski mask was a child who had lost his I-phone.  Not a good thing. 

 He knew it would impact his freedom as well as his allowance. We buy the first I-phone, the insurance payment to replace it if it is lost, they pick up.   

View from our condo

As he shook his head and kept tapping his empty upper pockets where the phone had rested earlier, the snowfall continued to increase to almost "white out" conditions and well below freezing temperatures. As Raymond stared out at the miles of open wilderness he just shook his head.  I then told him, "don't just shake your head, do something about it.  Find your phone."  

Raymond was perplexed for a just a moment and then realized he had options.  Using my I-phone locating system and sending his phone a signal to set off an audible alert we began searching two of his previous crash locations.  The snow continued to fall as our entire family gathered in a grove of trees digging around in the fresh powdery white snow.  We finally heard the faint beeping sound from deep within the pristine white powder.  Though Raymond's face and eyes were covered, I know that his big childish grin now extended ear to ear as his beautiful eyes twinkled.  

Ryan

As we dug through the snow the alert sound got louder and louder until a few minutes later and about two feet into the freezing snow we found his fully functional, but very cold I-Phone.  It worked perfectly.  

As Raymond slid that I-Phone back into his jacket pocket, I felt pretty good.  Utah is a beautiful place and the most precious things I hold so close

to my heart all have a tiny bit of technology in their pockets that just might may help me find them one day.  After all, without each of them, I would be the one truly lost.  

   

 

Ray & Theresa Shay  

Info@TrustShay.com
 

  

Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved.  No duplication of this material without written consent of Shay Realtors.   

Broker's Corner & Market Update

Shay Realtor's -  Broker's Corner   

The latest news on local real estate by Ray Shay, Owner/Broker Associate of Shay Realtors of REMAX Ranch and Beach. 
#1 in sales in 2009, 2010, 2011, and 2012.

Hope you are having a great President's Week!  We have three homes that we sold in Del Sur in just the past few weeks.  We are certainly feeling the push from foreign investors here in San Diego County as well as LA.  Their cash offers are frequently taken over conventional loan offers.  Ultimately this foreign money will result in increased value of homes and the opportunity for more sellers to sell their homes.  IF you are looking for the updated value of your home or investment property, give us a call. 

Local Market Update    

 

We can provide you with custom weekly reports. You will find easy-to-read graphs with statistics, and valuable information broken down into bite-size pieces about current market trends specifically for our 92127 zip code. Call or email us today for your custom condo or single family home report.

(858) 449-7355 or

 info@trustshay.com

Gold and Blue - "Prince Charles"Written by Ray Shay

Gold & Blue is a series of police stories which may be inappropriate for younger readers.  This is a small peek behind the badge of America's FinesLike most rookie cops, I was naive or, "real green" as one of the veteran police officers mentioned when he sat down next to me at one of my first police line-up.  I was not surprised.  It was pretty obvious Rookie police officers are all shiny and new.  As a trainee, your daily responsibilities are purposely limited, as much as they can be. Not much driving of the police car, talking on the radio, or writing complex reports.  If things turn ugly as they sometimes do, you may be tasked to make the most complicated and difficult decision of all ... using lethal force.

If a police recruit's duties were not limited, they would likely have sensory overload and ultimately foul something up or possibly get someone seriously hurt.  As a police trainee you are basically a ride-a-long with a gun. You are careful not to make the mistake of going, "hands on" with someone too early, or too late, or saying something stupid that results in you and your partner fighting your way out of a situation. 

Gauging the value of a new police recruit can sometimes be a crap shoot, until he or she has proven themselves in the frequently unforgiving streets of the City of San Diego. I think it is probably similar in the military.

If you were a new "grunt" in Vietnam or a seal team member going into your first combat mission in some foreign country, your fellow warriors are looking for someone they can trust to perform when the chips are down. 

I still recall my first phase, FTO (Field Training Officer) John Tefft.  He had the perfect personality to train, "fresh meat" as rookies are sometimes called. Officer Tefft was really funny.  His dry sense of humor was both hysterical and insightful. He had been a street cop for about fifteen years when he was unlucky enough to get stuck with me in my first day in the field as a San Diego Police Officer. 

 

We were a, "Frank" unit assigned to Western Division. The "Frank" radio designator alerted everyone from dispatchers, the watch commander and every officer in all seven patrol divisions, there was a rookie in the patrol car.  

It was probably our third day on the beat, and the sun was setting over Point Loma when we stopped at a traffic light on University Ave. It was a busy intersection with lots of traffic and people walking around. I was living the dream. I was smiling and waiving to people in the cars around us. I probably looked like Prince Charles riding in a royal motorcade on Victoria Street near Buckingham Palace.

Prince Charles

John had seen enough. He knew what he needed to do. Years later, when I was a Field Training Officer, I did the same type of thing.  As the police radio crackled in our marked patrol car, I was again smiling and waiving at a family in the car next to us, John asked very matter of fact, "What the hell are you doing?" I leaned back in my seat as I turned towards him. I could feel my twelve layers of Kevlar body armor push up the back of my collared wool uniform shirt.  

I was confused. I asked him, "what do you mean?" John repeated the same statement again, just slower this time, "What the hell are you doing?" His piercing blue eyes and the look on his face meant a lesson in being a real cop was soon to follow.  I will never forget what he said next, "look, let's get something straight right now. See all these people around us. They really do not give a shit if we live or die. They will not come to our rescue. The only people who will risk their lives to save us are other police officers."  

I still recall thinking, That is pretty harsh.  Everyone seems so nice. They smile at me and they are generally respectful. Maybe John has been pushing a beat car too long.  I think any citizens would help us.  Like when your carrying something heavy out of Home Depot and you need help loading it into your car.  I wondered if I would become negative about the human spirit the longer I was a cop.   I was of course an idiot. 

   

It did not take long to realize how accurate John really was. Citizens coming to your rescue is generally an illusion. I know there have been exceptions and a few people really do care. Especially that warm summer morning soon after the sun had begun to rise from the previous nights darkness and terrible violence. The elderly woman walked out of her home in Golden Hill and begin her slow shuffle towards us. She was wearing an old, worn bathrobe and her blue slippers were badly faded as they scrapped along the ground.  The woman was carrying four colored ceramic cups of coffee, two in each hand.  

The cups clanked together as she walked unsteadily towards myself and several other police officers who were guarding a crime scene. When she began to speak tears filled her eyes until the liquid began to overflow and stream down both of her cheeks.  She then haltingly said, "I am so sorry about your fellow officers dying last night." The momentary silence following her comments was unbearable.   Her words just hung in the air like unwanted proof it really did happen. That both Officers, Timothy Ruopp and Kimberly Tonahill were really gone, (click for more info).    

I really liked the woman and we thanked her for the coffee, but privately I wanted her to leave. She reminded me what we had all lost. The type of loss you pack away, to deal with at another time, not while you are on duty.  

So a few people do care, but you can never really rely on anyone but a cop. You are a fool if you think you can. I soon learned never to expect a citizen to help. Most people hesitate to act when they see any act of sudden violence and it is accentuated if it is a police officer who is fighting for his life or trying to restrain someone. I get it. Most citizens are afraid of not doing the right thing, don't really care, or are so unaccustomed to seeing violent acts, they simply stare.  

The best example of this phenomenon occurred soon after leaving field training.   My partner and good friend, John Tangredi and I were stopped at 32nd and Market street when a local nightclub was closing. There was well over 100 persons loitering around.   We noticed one particularly heavily muscled individual who appeared to be in a daze and possibly high on PCP, (Angel dust).  As I stepped out of our patrol car, I did not know he was a hardened street gang member who had recently been paroled from Chino State Prison for killing a man.  

It all happened so quick. With a deep guttural sound, his right hand suddenly struck me across my wind pipe, pinning me against my marked patrol car as his left hand unsnapped my holster and began removing my sidearm.  A combination of powerful moves

which are practiced in state prisons across our country.   

To keep precious air flowing into my lungs, I twisted my upper body while struggling to hold on to my firearm.  As John and I took the fight to the ground, I recall glancing over his shoulder and seeing a sea of different faces staring at us.  No one moved to help us.  The scene turned more chaotic and threatening when the crowd then began screaming at us and closing in.  It was like a bad sequel of a Batman movie where citizens turned on the peacekeepers.  

The crowd then began throwing things and yelling at us to let him go, as we struggled over both the trigger and direction of the barrel of my department issued Smith and Wesson handgun which was fully loaded with six hollow point lead bullets.  

The crowd seemed unaware that if the hammer struck any of the six primers, the gun powder would detonate and there there would be a deafening roar followed by a burst of dark smoke trailing the 148 grain hollow point bullet on its path down the spiraled lands and grooves inside the metal barrel of my revolver.  The spinning red hot bullet would then exit my handgun and not stop until it mushroomed on impact. As I had learned early on in police work, a bullet has no conscious and does not care who or what it strikes.  

John was so right.  This was not a Home Depot parking lot.  As we fought on the darkened pavement, John Tangredi calmly broadcast "cover now" over the screams of the crowd.  A call for help which is one step below "11-99" which would have gone to a city-wide emergency request for assistance.   We could hear the approaching sirens as we yelled at the crowd to "get back" while still struggling to maintain control of the suspect and retain my sidearm.    

The crowd ultimately parted as the sound of fellow police officers running down the street with batons jingling in their rungs as red and blue lights reflected off the graffiti covered walls of the nightclub.  Despite the potential lethal confrontation, each citizen still wanted to retain their seats in the front row.  

It was just as Officer Tefft had warned me. It was not the public, but fellow police officers who risked their lives to save us.  It is a strange conundrum to realize the same police officers would also do the same for anyone in that violent crowd or any other complete stranger.   

The same manner that San Diego Police Officers Timothy Ruopp, Kim Tonahill and Gary Mitrovich were performing their duties on that fateful night in Grape Street Park.  

   

 

Ray & Theresa Shay  

Info@TrustShay.com

  

Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved.  No duplication of this material without written consent of Shay Realtors.   

  

Broker's Corner & Market Update

Shay Realtor's -  Broker's Corner   

The latest news on local real estate by Ray Shay, Owner/Broker Associate of Shay Realtors of REMAX Ranch and Beach.
#1 in sales in 2009, 2010, 2011, and 2012.

5 Reasons to Buy a Home Now! 
The latest Case Shiller Home P{rice Index revealed that home prices nationwide have appreciated 5.5% over the last year.  San Diego County we were closer to 18% increase. The Home Price Expectation Survey, which asks a panel of over 100 economists, investment strategists and Housing market analysts, calls for appreciation over the next five years.   

1. Prices are on the rise.
2. Mortgage Interest rates are expected to increase.  
3. Rental prices are on the rise due to limited inventory. 
4. New mortgage regulations to be announced soon.  Government agencies are drafting the Qualified Residential Mortgage (QRM) rule.  
5. Currently time lines to purchase can be less than thirty days.    

Local Market Update    

 

In the attached custom report, that is update weekly,  You will find easy-to-read graphs with statistics, and valuable information broken down into bite-size pieces about current market trends specifically for our 92127 zip code.

Condo Report and Single Family Report 

Birds Nests and BarbecuesWritten by Ray Shay

I really like to barbecue.  It gives me time to be outside and enjoy the ceremony of preparing a family meal in the great outdoors.  It makes me feel like I am a part of nature.  Recently while waiting for the grill in our backyard to heat up, I watched a bird hurriedly fly from our back fence with a small twig in her mouth.   She was working frantically to build her nest.

I called out to her, "Bird, that is a dumb idea."  I suspect she was not listening to me as she hurriedly flew back and forth.  She was a bird on a mission.  It seemed the other bird helping her in the process was not quite as focused.  I figured he was the husband.  He helped out, but he just did not seem to narrow his beak and have as much, "zoom" as the mother bird.

I repeated to both of the birds they should really re-think their plan.  I am not sure if Theresa or our three boys could hear me talking to the birds, but I would not be surprised.  They know I sometimes talk out loud to animals of all types. If the birds could talk back, I suspect the female bird would harshly tweet out, (only after placing another twig in the growing nest), "Hey Mr, butt-out, got babies coming."

I think building a nest is hidden somewhere in a woman's genes.  They want everything ready for their off spring. I noticed this first hand during our recent move when a friend text me and asked how our family move was going.  He was smart enough to text me instead of showing up at our home, since Theresa would have probably put him to work.  I responded to his inquiry, "It is Henry, Edward, Lincoln, Lincoln."  Really not that bad, but I am obviously the male bird. 

I did help.  I helped every day from long before sunrise to after midnight. I teased Theresa by saying she wanted our home organized and functional at, "microwave" speed.  

"Microwave Moving"

If I was a single dad it would be so much easier.  I would simply throw out three sleeping bags in the living room for the boys, with pillows of course and serve them pop tarts for breakfast, hot dogs for lunch, and burgers for dinner.  To mix it up in the following days, I would just reverse the order.  What's the problem?

My biggest problem on my mind is my barbecue was broken. When I first saw the old Viking grill in the courtyard of our new home I was pretty excited about the move.  When Theresa and I lived in Pacific Beach I was a "Weber" man.  In PQ, Santa Fe Valley, and 4S Ranch, I upgraded to"Turbo" brand, but I always wanted to cook on a Viking or Lynx.   

The owner of the home said the Viking was broken, so I brought in the SWAT Team of Barbecue repairs, Jim Gordon of  West Coast BBQ Grills.
After four days and nights of moving to have two fully grown men appear in our back yard with a ton of experience to begin  

Jim Gordon

dismantling, cleaning, fixing and lubricating the  grill put me into a trance.  They thought I was probably a stalker.  I kept staring at them from different windows in our home and would find reasons to stop unpacking boxes and wander over and talk, "grill stuff" with them.

After working tirelessly for about three hours, Jim announced he saved the patient and I would be grilling again.  I would soon be back with a cold Guiness in one hand and barbecue tongs in the other.  It warmed my heart.  It also reminded me of those two birds at the old house.  Before I was done grilling that afternoon, I made the female bird especially upset when I tossed her freshly started nest into the canyon. 

She was likely a great mother bird, but her plan was bad.  Like real estate, birds nests are also about location, location, location.  Her and the male bird were building their new nest in the top of our outdoor propane heater.  Knowing me, I would have forgotten about their work in progress and a few nights later it would have lit up like an Olympic torch.  That would be tough to explain to our children.   

As I walked back to my grill, I yelled out to the birds again, "Hey birds sorry about that. Try the fire alarm bell instead." 

Have a great week.   And if you are looking for the perfect gift for a barbecue lover, (man or woman) be sure to call Jim and tell him we sent you!  

 

Ray & Theresa Shay  

Info@TrustShay.com

  

Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved.  No duplication of this material without written consent of Shay Realtors.