First & LastWritten by Ray Shay

  

I found myself staring at the majestic Eiffel Tower soaring 1,000 feet into the beautiful and constantly-changing Parisian sky. The changing hues of colors hinted darkness was soon approaching as the sun continued its timeless trek to the west. The same sun providing light and warmth to our relentlessly spinning planet was waiting patiently to awaken many of you to a new day.

I watched our three boys, Troy, Raymond and Ryan and several other children from our small town, running toward the Eiffel Tower. They carried with them often-jostled and frequently-kicked yellow, blue, and white soccer balls, which fell from their little hands before striking the small, old stones at the base of the tower. Stones laid by hand hundreds of years ago. 

  

I then heard a sudden roar as thousands of people began cheering on this warm Friday evening in Paris, France. I don't know if I heard the yelling and screaming first or saw the sudden twinkling of the white LED lights, which seemed to breathe fresh life into the Eiffel Tower.

All of the children and each of us adults smiled broadly as we witnessed the sudden show of lights and dynamic colors of this iconic monument. When first built in 1889, the tower was loathed by many Parisians who thought it was too brash or of bad design. The Eiffel Tower is now acclaimed worldwide as a vibrant and passionate symbol of an international city that is home to more than 10 million residents.

  

At that moment, I realized we were thankfully no longer in San Diego, and the challenges we faced getting to Europe, a year delayed, were all worth it. It was one of the first of countless new experiences we would enjoy during our relatively short stay in England, France and Spain.

As I sipped a deliciously strong cappuccino the next morning, I was reflecting on our family's bountiful servings of new experiences over the last few days. Our youngest son, Ryan, then approached me with something that was not only a repeat event, but would likely be the last time we would share this particular experience between the two of us. 

Ryan started the conversation with, "Dad can you fix this?" He still had a sleepy look in his beautiful almond-shaped eyes as he extended his swimsuit toward me in his outstretched right hand. I saw the problem immediately.

Hanging loose and lifeless from one side of his swimsuit was the elastic, adjustable waistband. It was almost completely pulled out and looked like a piece of overcooked bacon as it hung down from the side of his swimsuit. I knew with him now being all of nine years old he would no longer allow Theresa or me to buy him adjustable pants, shorts or anything else. They are simply "not cool" anymore.

In years past, this recurring adjustable waistband problem would creep up at the most inopportune times, like minutes before going to church, a wedding or some other special event. The pressure was always on and often compounded by the fact that not just one of our sons, but likely two or even all three of them were out of adjustment. The adjustable waist is a terrific, but imperfect, invention to save parents from buying more pants as their children grow so quickly.

  

For the first time ever, I was sincerely glad to see it happen, because I knew as time marches on, I would look back in years to come and dream of making one of our sons so very happy by just keeping his swimsuit from falling to his ankles.

It took me about 15 minutes, but I meticulously threaded the strap through his waistband so his re-sizable shorts fit his little frame. I handed his shorts back to him as he said, "thanks, Dad." He then quickly changed into the swimsuit since he knew today was the day we would be swimming in the beautiful Gardon River in Southern France, which is located under Pont du Gard, a bridge and aqueduct system built by the ancient Romans.  

I watched as he jumped from a 20-foot rock cliff into the chilly water. It was a first for Ryan, but likely a last for his re-sizable shorts. When he is older he will likely chuckle at the thought of a few thousand people knowing about those shorts, yet it will certainly bring a smile to my face. A fitting end to just another moment in time that reminds me once again how each day is a true blessing that cannot be repeated, but can be a treasured memory we all hold close to our hearts.

Theresa and I hope you each enjoy the firsts and lasts you may see today and each day in the future. By recognizing them, I hope you can appreciate how fast and furiously time passes us all by. 

Au revoir,

  

Ray and Theresa Shay   

2013 - All Rights Reserved

Shay Realtors - 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 home sales in 2009, 2010, 2011 and 2012.

  

We are still on holiday in Europe. Our team of real estate experts enjoy providing unparalleled service and professionalism. Call them at858.449.7355 if you need anything!

  

Our team!

    

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 us at 858.449.7355 or email us today for your custom condo or single family home report.

AmateurWritten by Ray Shay

Troy Shay and Oak Valley Teacher Kenny Daum

I admit, I am an amateur. Like most people, there are some things I have a great deal of experience in handling, while in other areas, I struggle. The perfect example was just last Thursday morning at Oak Valley Middle School's graduation. 

As the Falcon student jazz band started playing music, and the graduates began their procession to their assigned seats for eighth grade promotion, I realized I had to move quickly. 

I put on my Maui Jim sunglasses. The dark ones I recently got as a birthday present with built-in bifocals on the bottom half, so I can read the small print down low and still look out over the top and see life around me. For some unknown reason, my eyes began to water as I looked at our son who is the same young man Theresa and I used to call our "little peanut." He just looked so grown up walking to his assigned seat with his classmates. 

Behind the dark glasses I looked at all the parents and teachers in attendance and thought to myself, "Am I the only person freaking out here?" Everyone seemed so calm and collected. They must be veterans, I thought. I then realized, I am such an amateur. Troy, our oldest son, is barely fourteen years old and this is just one of many milestones that he will pass, as will as his little brothers, Raymond and Ryan.  

I bet many of you have been to lots of events with your children that marked their procession from being a child to becoming a young adult. Those events likely included promotions, graduations and maybe even some weddings. Give me some pointers here, because this really sucks.  

It is really not about me getting older. I'm good with that. It is just seeing the changes in them. How did it get here so fast? Can I still take him out for ice cream? Is this really eighth grade? I definitely did not look like any of these eighth graders when I was growing up. These kids seemed so much more mature, smarter and more polished then I ever was. I was too busy riding my bicycle with a banana seat to baseball and football practices. At their age, I would not even think about hosting, much less speaking in front of a thousand people. These kids were unbelievable. What the heck happened? 

Principal Casey Currigan with ASB President Ishwinder Battoo

   

As I thought of my amateur status as a parent, I realized another area I am weak in. It comes to mind because I am right now writing this story as our family waits to board a nonstop British Airways flight from San Diego to London, England. None of us have ever been to Europe. I guess we're what you would call lame international travelers or just European virgins. Your choice.

No, I never honeymooned or backpacked across Europe after high school or college. I have never been to Europe or India for work.  My life long dream was always to put on a police uniform and badge, strap on a gun belt and then simply save the world. The world I would try to save consisted of only a few dusty square miles in a poorer area of San Diego called Logan Heights.  

Those blocks of homes and apartment buildings were filled with adventure and challenges, which helped form life long friendships. The distance we all traveled was not far, but Juan Ponce De Leon would have been fully entertained. Thus, I have never regretted my decision, even for a second. I am just looking forward to finally taking a spin through Europe with our three boys.   

I have seen a lot of training videos about Europe. My favorite is Mr. Bean's Holiday. Our kids stare at me when I keep busting up laughing at that movie. How will we do "dropping off the grid" and traveling for a few weeks visiting London, Paris and then Spain? I really do not know, but I loved telling our boys to leave the iPhones at home. 

I hope to drink strong coffee in the mornings and cold beer or red wine in the afternoons. I wonder how many pubs we can go to with our kids? I have lots of questions and few answers. I guess that is not uncommon for a real "rookie" in a strange land.

I still hope to write the next few week's articles, but I can't promise that. I like writing, but I also really like the idea of "being off the grid." Whatever that means exactly. I do know part of my search will be looking for a pink-colored animal and the famous Inspector Clouseau...us cops all have something in common. It is a brotherhood, after all. Take care lads, here on the other side of the pond. I will let you know how my search goes. 

Have a great week!

Sincerely,  

  

Ray and Theresa Shay   

2013 - All Rights Reserved  

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 home sales in 2009, 2010, 2011 and 2012

A panel of builder CEO's met at the Pacific Coast Builder's conference in San Diego last week.  They confirmed some things we already know.  The living room at many new developments are disappearing and the space is being replaced with larger, "great rooms" and snazzier kitchens. 

The other trend we are all seeing is some new home builders are making homes that are called, "multi-generational" with a place for in-laws or elderly family members.  The Lakes have a nice layout in that regard, as the in-law suite has a small kitchen area as well as a sitting area.  Finally, the garages keep shrinking.  All four new developments at Del Sur have two car garages with a slight extra area.  For Americans that love their junk... it could be a problem. If you have any real estate related questions we can answer here or in person don't hesitate to write our editor or give us a call. 

If you have any questions on the market or the value of your home please give me a call on my cell phone at (858) 449-4970.  

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@shayrealtors.com 

Two BrainsWritten by Ray Shay

Our family attended a party this past weekend where we were surrounded by young adults who only yesterday seemed like they were just children and now were suddenly high school graduates.  It was a time to celebrate.  As I sipped an ice cold Stella Artois beer, I mentioned to a good friend how time seemed to be passing by so quickly and how incredibly promising our next generation is.

  

He enthusiastically agreed, and we talked for a while on other topics, before he lowered his voice, signaling he wanted to talk privately about something else.  He then spoke softly, almost in a hushed tone as he told me the fatal traffic accident, only a few blocks from where we were celebrating, had shaken up several people in our community.  I told him that I had heard the same thing from other area residents. 

  

He then said, "You must be used to it since you were a cop for so long."   I thought about what he said as our conversation weaved through other subjects, but I privately came to the conclusion he was wrong.  Police officers and other emergency service personnel really do not, "get used to" seeing death and other  

Days later, CHP Investigators return to gather additional data at deadly car accident location

tragic events, but more accurately, we understand how our brain and sub-conscious will react to seeing life and death from the front row.  Through practice, we have developed some tools to work through it.    

 

I hope by talking about the recent tragedy, it will help all those brave moms, dads, and citizens from our community who stopped at the horrific traffic accident and heroically did all they could to help the victims.   

As the first responder, you first need to realize you truly are heroes and like the vast majority of heroes, there will be no awards ceremony, no money scattered at your feet and certainly there will be no crowds of people cheering your name.  You just get to deal with the trauma you suffered and come to the realization that even though you can't stop the never ending replays of the critical incident in your brain, you really are not going crazy. 

I realized the freak car accident discussion would flip one of the many, "triggers" in my own mind from past experiences.  It was like suddenly releasing a batch of Hot Wheel cars so they could zoom around that little race track in my second brain.  I knew the flag was raised when the subject of a person dying in a car accident was brought up.  

I was prepared for the race.  Each was a memory of a fatal traffic accident I had experienced as a police officer.  Some of the memories I could see every minute detail while others had thankfully faded.   I could hear the "whir" as they started racing around the track. Each one repeating their own tragic memories in my brain.  

It is that "whir" and the repeated, constant replaying of the details of the incident that is confronting many of the people who were at the traffic accident scene.  It's OK.  It is completely normal. Your subconscious is trying to make sense of what you witnessed. It is just part of being a caring and loving person.  

If you were really crazy, it would not bother you at all.  The repeating video will often return at the most inconvenient times and cause you to stare off into space.  You then feel bad because you feel like you cannot tell your partner or friend that yet again you were back at the accident scene.  The frustration builds where the more you try to hide it the more it repeats.  People who do not understand will get frustrated and think or say, "Hey, get over it."  They just don't know.  

Two Brains 

Continued

You could be experiencing ASD, (Acute Stress Disorder) or if it extends over thirty days, it may be PTSD, (Post Trauma Stress Disorder), (click on this link concerning PTSD).  Some people may incorrectly think you must have been in an overseas war campaign to suffer from PTSD.  Not so.  Everyone knows I am clearly no doctor, but I think you can suffer from PTSD from things that don't go "boom" or have automatic gunfire involved.  Really tragic events can even be more damaging to your psyche if it is experienced quietly or alone. 

Why is it we can twist an ankle stepping off a curb and we will go see a doctor the same day, while on the other hand, we experience death, depression, or a severe traumatic incident and we refuse to go talk to a licensed professional for years?  

What is even more stupid, is under most medical plans psychological counseling is fully covered. Flip your $20 co-payment to the receptionist and tell the doctor you can't sleep, or tell them how a sound or certain smell puts you right back in that tragic moment.  Don't make seeing a doctor such a big deal. 

I know most dads at the accident scene will try and walk it alone. by putting the tragic events in a vault and locking it away.  You moms' are a different breed. You are like a grizzly and tough old war veteran with the butt of a cigar hanging out of your mouths.  You are too darn busy dealing with other people's problems to have any of your own, so you will try and put the memory away neatly, like in a Ziploc bag with "double lock" and push it to the back of the kitchen cabinet.  If you do so without talking about how you feel, the suppressed memory will get all nasty and stinky, (yes, even in the Ziploc II with freshness protection).  

When the memory gets all infected and finally comes out, it will be much harder to deal with.  It is not a like a good wine that gets better over time, it is trauma.  I have tried both ways and so has the City of San Diego.  That is why following any OIS (Officer Involved Shooting) we are required to speak with a doctor or we don't go back in the field until we do.  If we're not cleared for duty we remain behind a desk.  The ultimate punishment.

Some of you will claim you are really not heroes.  You might say, "Ray, anyone would have helped the man and the woman." Just like you're delaying to see a doctor, you're wrong yet again.  I will give you just one example.  

It was a crystal blue spring morning when I arrived post-collision at a traffic accident on southbound Interstate 15.  I drove my police car on the shoulder to get to the accident scene as all six lanes of this major interstate had come to a dead stop.

I parked by a damaged car sitting near the  center median where a couple of civilians were talking to the injured driver.  While radioing for CHP and paramedics,  I looked to my right and saw a second car badly damaged in the middle of the freeway.  I thought it must be empty because all the hundreds of cars were stopped facing the vehicle but there was no one around it.

I could hear the deep hissing of the broken radiator as I approached it and saw the growing puddle of hot black oil as it spilled on to the hard gray colored roadway.  I then saw the young woman who was not any older than the kids at the party.  She had beautiful brown hair and her skin was smooth as porcelain.  As I spoke to her, I realized she had been all alone since the accident occurred and not a single person had opened a car door or approached her.  They just sat and watched.

As I radioed for a second paramedic unit and SDFD heavy rescue, I remember looking at all those hundreds of faces looking back at me from their stopped cars.  I was too busy to dwell on it, but I knew a 

Flowers left at crash scene.

t that moment there there was not a single hero among them.

I continued to talk to the young woman and my only solace was that she was no longer alone.  I truly believe when people are severely injured or their spirit is leaving this beautiful planet they can still hear what you say and in some way feel that you care enough to be with them.

Each of you did all you could to help the people in the car.   You are our heroes. Now get to a professional to talk about what you felt so when something triggers your memory of that tragic day, the memory you see looping round and round won't be so clear and you can hopefully just barely hear the "whir."  Then you can really move on.

I'll sign off this week with a hope and a prayer to the victims in the accident and each of you that rushed to their aid. You really are amazing people.   

Sincerely.  

Ray and Theresa Shay   

2013 - All Rights Reserved  

Zombies and The LottoWritten by Ray Shay

   
For some unknown reason, two certain subjects seem to keep coming come up as a frequent item of discussion with our three sons, Troy, Raymond, and Ryan.  It is usually brought up when were all packed in our white, company Toyota Prius, as we drive around San Diego County and beyond.  

 

I had hoped over time these discussions would ultimately fade away, but like a wide eyed zombie, who is drooling blood from his mouth as he knocks on our front door, they just keep coming back.  It seems neither the subject of zombies, or our children's discussions of our family someday winning the Lotto, are not getting the least bit sick, much less dying away.  

I'm not sure when zombies or thoughts of us being big lotto winners, originally came up, but I know it has been going on for quite awhile.   My gut says we should be spending more time talking about world affairs, global warming, or other things which are vitally important to our health and happiness, like the San Diego Padres and Chargers.  You know, really important stuff.  
 

Since the talk does not appear to going away, and I recently found a, "to do list" written by one of our sons in case of a Zombie Apocalypse, I figured this would be a good week to share with you how these two subjects are bantered around the cramped interior of our little white car. 

Usually either Troy or Raymond will kick it off with, "Hey dad, what would we really do when a Zombie Apocalypse occurs?"  I then remind them to include an, "if" in their question.  We then usually cover the same ground we did a few weeks earlier like, "Oak Valley Middle School would be the perfect place to hide from Zombies.  After all, it already looks like a prison and we could block the gates with burned out cars."

Ryan our eight year old recently suggested an improvement in our pre-zombie attack planning by suggesting,  "We should go to Ace Hardware at 4S Commons and get metal rods and a metal grinder. We could cut the bars and block the windows."  I thought that was pretty good thinking. 

Do you get my drift?  Every time zombies are brought up, our response plan is fine tuned with new elements, like who we would call first to help us, what weapons and skills we would need to keep our family alive and the drooling zombies at bay.

Our kids sometimes imagine what we would do if we won the lottery.  That would definitely open the cash box to purchase armored personnel carriers and other vitally important ZPE's, (Zombie Protection Equipment).

As the conversation continues, I can count on their disappointed faces as they stare at me from the rear view mirror in our car.  It's my buzz kill response that always drives them all crazy. 
 

"Are you serious dad? If you really won six hundred million dollars you would wait a year before turning in the winning ticket?  You would wait until the last possible day you could?  That is well ..."  The boys do not finish the sentence or use the word, "stupid" but I know that is exactly what they are thinking

But, I always tell them the same set of reasons.  Our life is far from perfect.  We struggle like most families to meet demands of life that at times seems overwhelming.  It is sometimes like were in a hurricane with so much activity between work, school, bills and friendships.  I think we're just living.  I don't think I would change a single thing. 

To dump a truckload of money into our lives would change us.  Yes, we could get the armored personnel carriers, helicopters and have the finest gear for the Zombie Apocalypse and possibly after the first night of battling zombies, I may change my mind.   As of right now, I like the turmoil, struggles and imperfections that are vital aspects of our lives.  It would not be as much fun or challenging to be suddenly swimming in cash.  The money would change all of us. 
  
The fact of the matter is I don't need a winning lotto ticket.  I just need to look in the rear view mirror to know that Theresa and I have already won.  Were richer than any amount of money that could be deposited in a bank account or delivered in gold bouillon.  Like the vast majority of parents from all the corners of this globe, our children are truly our mega millions,  

For those parents with kids in college, private school, or facing other challenges, I am sure you feel like your spending mega millions and would love to win the lottery.  I sincerely hope you do.  As for us, we will keep cruising around in the Prius and work on our Zombie Response Plan.  You never know when we may need it. 

Enjoy your week,     

Ray & Theresa