I know it is not a surprise to any of you, but I sometimes think about things in a different way. When I was a kid, I was a lot like our son Raymond. I frequently imagined things that weren't, and wondered, why not? I have learned when a thought or idea comes to me, I need to write it down or start to work on it right away. If it is strong enough to awake me, I know I have to get out of bed and get started. I have learned no matter how hard I try to ignore a thought or idea bouncing around in my brain, blissful sleep will not return unless I act.
That is what brought me to our kitchen table this morning a little before 3:30 AM. About two hours before Theresa and I regularly start our day. I told myself I could write for thirty minutes and get back to bed and catch that last ninety minutes of sleep, but I of course was kidding myself.
As I went downstairs and turned on the lights, my eyes began to adjust to the brightness as I tried to focus on the torn square piece of paper that was resting on our kitchen table. It is the piece of paper that had awakened me from my deep sleep.
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| San Diego Union Newspaper |
It was actually the front page of the San Diego Union newspaper that one of our three sons had insisted Theresa cut out earlier in the week. He wanted to hang it on his bedroom wall. The title of the story said it all.... "Chaos in Boston."
Our family has been watching closely the tragic events in a city I have always admired and wish to visit someday. We ultimately had to turn off the television, but I knew our kids were still getting updates on their Instagram and other social media feeds.
As I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my balding head, I thought how life seems to have a series of different events we experience as both children and adults. It struck me these experiences are not much different than walking through a turnstile on the MBTA (Metro Boston Transit Authority) or the entrance at a ride in Disneyland.
Two of the mandatory turnstiles we all must go through are, of course, our birth and our death. All of the other turnstiles will vary to the individual. If you counted all the other different turnstiles a person could walk through in life, it would be in
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| Twin Towers NYC |
the millions.
Each turnstile is ready to turn with a loud "clunk" as the person experiences something new. It may be a school graduation, sports, a sickness, loss of a family member or a divorce. I did the big "D" turnstile many years ago and it is one I would not recommend. It was not very much fun.
On September 11, 2001, most of us walked through the rusty and old turnstile of evil people coming too our country to try and stop our freedoms by killing our neighbors, our heroes, and our children. It was a moment in time we will never forget.
Each turnstile is ready to turn with a loud "clunk" as the person experiences something new. It may be a school graduation, sports, a sickness, loss of a family member or a divorce. I did the big "D" turnstile many years ago and it is one I would not recommend. It was not very much fun.
On September 11, 2001, most of us walked through the rusty and old turnstile of evil people coming too our country to try and stop our freedoms by killing our neighbors, our heroes, and our children. It was a moment in time we will never forget.
Since September 11, 2001, our Local, State, and Federal agencies have done well keeping terrorists attacks from occurring in our America. If I had looked at the terrorism turnstile about nine days ago, I would have seen proud soldiers, law enforcement and many local San Diego companies, including Qualcomm, Northrop Grumman, Cubic as well as other defense contractors blocking access to it, preventing us from experiencing the heart breaking events we recently witnessed.
That all changed in one of the most heralded and historic places in our country, which is also a great place to run a marathon and the birthplace of our nation. A beautiful city, Boston, Massachusetts.
It was now our turn to walk our children through that terrorism turnstile. To try, and explain why people would do such a thing. All week the questions came at us, "Dad, Mom, why did they kill those people? They bombed children at a run?" The list went on and on. Theresa and I realized this was our children's 9-11.
With the death of one terrorist and arrest of the second, that turnstile quickly closed. I wish that it would never open again, but I know better.
By helping to walk our children though this turnstile in life it made me think of something else. It could be a coincidence, but this week our twelve year old son Raymond
That all changed in one of the most heralded and historic places in our country, which is also a great place to run a marathon and the birthplace of our nation. A beautiful city, Boston, Massachusetts.
It was now our turn to walk our children through that terrorism turnstile. To try, and explain why people would do such a thing. All week the questions came at us, "Dad, Mom, why did they kill those people? They bombed children at a run?" The list went on and on. Theresa and I realized this was our children's 9-11. With the death of one terrorist and arrest of the second, that turnstile quickly closed. I wish that it would never open again, but I know better.
By helping to walk our children though this turnstile in life it made me think of something else. It could be a coincidence, but this week our twelve year old son Raymond
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| Raymond Before and After! |
announced, (with his mouth half full of sushi) he was going to attend the United States Naval Academy.
The following day, he also made me stop after he saw a sign that said, "Military haircuts." The barber offered to cut it to zero on the sides but I hollered "No, my wife will kill me. Let's go #2 on sides and #3 on top."
The following day, he also made me stop after he saw a sign that said, "Military haircuts." The barber offered to cut it to zero on the sides but I hollered "No, my wife will kill me. Let's go #2 on sides and #3 on top."
at honorable and well maintained turnstiles with the sign above them that simply reads, "public service." May God bless the people of Boston and the growing line of public servants who keep us safe and our freedoms intact now and in the future. It is because of them, the rickety old and rusty turnstile of terrorism opens so infrequently on our precious soil. Thank you.
Warmly,
Ray & Theresa Shay
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