Wednesday, July 10, 2013

The Pharmacist
Written by Ray Shay

 As we were traveling on a high speed train at over 270 kilometers per hour approaching Madrid, Spain, I looked out the window at the fast-passing rural landscape and thought about what I had learned during our two weeks in Europe with Theresa, and our three boys Troy, Raymond and Ryan.  
Monitor on High Speed Train 
I learned a few things about the great families with us, their children and even more about myself. The first  
thing I realized was that I have been wrong about France, and the French people. Yeah, we got an occasional  stink eye from some elderly French  
residents when all thirty members of our American tour group squeezed in and and out of the subway, but I had many more positive experiences at coffee shops, tourist destinations, as well as day-to-day interactions with the French people.  

The turning point for me was when our youngest son, Ryan, awoke one morning in Paris with a swollen right eyelid. We walked into a corner pharmacy near the catacombs and within five minutes, the pharmacist diagnosed it as an infection, provided individual sterile eye wash vials and antibiotic eye drops. He also gave us a terrific smile. 

The pharmacist was young and did not speak much English, but we were still in and out of that pharmacy in less than five minutes. I was amazed. The only paperwork was my
Young People on 2013 Oak Valley Europe Trip  
scribbled name at the bottom of the credit card receipt. It was like a CVS pharmacy on steroids. 

After spending most of my adult life seeing the real intentions of people behind their smiles, frowns and sometimes-clenched teeth, I could tell the pharmacist was sincerely happy to help us. His smile was sincere and friendly. It was that smile and bright green eyes that kept haunting me in the days and weeks that followed.

I tried denying it to myself several times, but I realized in addition to our luggage, I had brought some additional baggage on this trip that could not be seen by anyone but me. It easily passed through the international security check points without ever being detected or questioned. The hidden baggage was all the negative vibes I had received from my father and others concerning the French.  An often joking bias which resulted in me not 
buying French wine or sometimes even kidding that I didn't want French doors in our next home. Looking back, it was very foolish of me.
D-Day June 6, 1944  
 
My dad has since passed, but I knew all along what ate at his gut about the French. To be fair, my father served in countless combat operations during World War II and the Korean War. Though he never talked about it, I know from my mom and older siblings that our father had a very close friend die on the beaches of Normandy, France on June 6, 1994.  A young man who was even younger than the pharmacist. One of many men who died fighting for freedom right alongside with about 10,000 other casualties on those sandy, blood- soaked beaches where the United States of America, and our allies took a stand against evil.   

I know my dad felt the French leaders had kissed the ring of an evil empire by capitulating to the Nazis. And, in each of his many return trips to France in years to follow as a Nuclear Weapons Safety Engineer, he had some pretty rude encounters with the French people. My dad was not a complainer, he would just get this certain look in his eyes when the subject of France came up.

When I got home to San Diego, I did some additional research and confirmed the French had indeed surrendered to the Nazis' after only a few days of fighting. The capitulation document was even signed in the exact same train car the Nazis had surrendered to the French in World War I. Citizens who would not fight against evil, struck at the core of my father, myself and most Americans. 

In a strange coincidence, the reason we could afford our trip to Europe this year, was because during my father's military service and subsequent responsibilities with nuclear weapons, our federal government concluded that the handling of the nuclear components and attending countless nuclear test explosions, contributed to our father's premature death. 

The U.S. Government offered a paltry sum to my six siblings and I to compensate us for our father'
Our Father - Richard Shay,  U.S. Naval Aviator  
s early death. We all realized we could likely receive 10 times the amount (or more) if we pursued civil litigation, but I think we all felt both our father and our government fought for our freedom (and that of other countries) during those turbulent times, and they both simply did the best they could. There was no intent to expose our father to deadly radiation. It just happened. 

I found it interesting that the amount of the settlement was within a only a few hundred dollars of our cost to take our children to Europe. In another strange twist of fate, on our last day of the trip we stopped in Madrid, Spain. We had to send a form letter to the U.S. Government confirming we would not sue them. It seemed to take forever, as Spain is a beautiful country, but a bit slow on modernization or open competition. No UPS or Federal Express companies here, only a half an hour of paperwork, 35 Euros and a future delivery of the paperwork to the United States Government in four or five days. 

As Theresa and I turned away from the Correa (post office) counter, we saw our three boys had fallen peacefully asleep in the lobby. I found myself staring at them as I wondered at that moment if everything really happens for a reason. Though my parents never saw our three treasures who were now sleeping, before they died, I wondered if somehow, some way, they could they see them right now. And, if they could, did my father notice that Ryan's right eyelid was no longer red or swollen as he slept comfortably in his big brother's arms?



A healed grandchild thanks to a kind, young French pharmacist, whose actions do not make past mistakes by his country right, but it does show the people of France are just like all of us...a work in progress. 


Warmly,  
  
  Ray and Theresa Shay
  
Ray and Theresa Shay   
  
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