Let's Go!
By Ray Shay
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| Six of the seven Shay kids sitting on our front porch. I'm sleeping in my sister Sharon's arms. |
The strangest thing happened to me on my way to work this week. I stopped in front of Del Norte High School and our oldest son Troy piled out of the front passenger seat of our car as he grabbed his backpack and two freshly toasted waffles resting on a paper plate. As he rushed off, I yelled out, "Have a great day Troy!"
As I prepared to merge into morning traffic, I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw our 14 year old son Raymond and his lanky 6' 1" frame folded into the right rear seat.
While waiting for traffic to clear, Raymond blurted out, "let's go." It must have been the pitch of his voice or the no-nonsense tone coming from the back seat of the car that caused me to suddenly think of my father, who passed away many years ago.
I felt a tinge of sadness as I pulled into traffic. I could not say anything to Raymond, but his deepening voice was so much like my father's it is kind of creepy. In the complex DNA coin flip between Chinese and Irish, I think more of the Irish floated to the top. Raymond's beautiful Asian eyes may be from Hong Kong, but his voice is definitely from somewhere outside of Dublin, Ireland.
As I continued driving, I kept thinking about my dad and the memories Raymond tripped in the wiring of my own, slightly disorganized brain. I know it was the words, "let's go." I also know, in all the years I was an adolescent,
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| I'm the little one looking up at my dad. |
Let's just say my dad and I did not see eye to eye. In fact, my most common emotion I regularly felt around him growing up, was a sense of fear.
All seven of us kids knew he had a rough childhood and he was scarred from combat operations in World War II, the Korean War and the unyielding burden of feeding and housing a family of nine.
All that aside, I will never forget the crystal blue night in the high desert of Albuquerque, New Mexico when my dad cut me off, as I tried to sneak into my bedroom in the garage.
A single car garage conversion he built as a place for me and three of my brothers to sleep. The small shower and toilet frequently backed up, but as they say in real estate, it's all about location, location, location.
Sleeping in the garage had its perks. It was close proximity to the kitchen and multiple food sources, it was really easy to sneak out of our house late at night, and most importantly, it was as far away from my dad and mom's bedroom as possible.
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| Our entire crew...Joe, Mom, Sharon, Patricia, Me, Rick, Dad, Mike and John |
I recall walking into our home that evening and seeing my dad definitely had the Great Santini look working. He was sitting at his usual perch at the bar adjoining our kitchen wearing his trademark white, short sleeve T-Shirt, jeans, boots, and his high and tight haircut. As he poured Popov Vodka over his hand chipped pieces of ice resting at the bottom of the glass he told me, "let's go for a ride."
My dad was "half in the bag" as he used to say, but tonight a smile flashed across his face, which surprised me. It was a strong indicator, I would not have to be light on my feet. I had recently purchased a sweet-looking, light purple, 1968 Chevrolet Impala convertible.
My father filled up his drink, grabbed a pack of Kent cigarettes, and a book of matches. I then followed him out the front door of our home. At 6' 2" and around 220 lbs., he was an imposing figure. He lit a cigarette and climbed into the back seat of my car. As the cigarette smoke streamed a thin trail of white smoke into the mile high night sky, he gave me the order to move forward, "let's go!"
As I looked into my rear view mirror I could see my dad's muscular arms draped over the back and right rear side of my car. He kept looking up at the night sky and we were both bathed in the green light and the music from my prized Pioneer stereo. I just drove and drove. I really do not recall how long I navigated the streets of Albuquerque.
I do remember thinking this was absolutely perfect. It was too loud for us to really talk to each other due to the combination of the wind and the music. My dad kept smoking, drinking and looking up at the stars.
The entire time I was scanning for and avoiding APD with their blue uniforms and black and white police cars. Police cars, I dreamed, one day I would be driving.
To be one of seven kids, and to be alone with our father was a huge deal. For him to appear relaxed and carefree was even bigger. I know the vodka deserved the credit, but I really did not care. He was happy and I did not want that drive to ever end.
In the years that followed, my father's demons quieted and with it, his heart began to flourish. He ultimately rallied and broke the heavy chains of alcoholism and addiction to nicotine. He then dedicated the remainder of his life to mending fences with the people he loved most and celebrating with each of us our ever-changing lives. He became his children's best friend.
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| My Dad and I on one of his many Ride-a-longs with SDPD |
We were all very lucky to have our father, and when he passed from this earth, he broke all of our hearts. As it should be.
I think in life, we all strive to learn from our own as well as other people's mistakes.
Ever since our children were very young, Theresa and I have had a funny habit with our kids. It is calledTWD or TWM. We often joke about it and yet we repeatedly encourage it.
It simply means "Time with Dad" or "Time with Mom." It signifies Theresa or I taking just one of our three sons out alone and focusing exclusively on them as individuals. It could be dinner, a sports event or even a late night drive around the neighborhood.
I think in life, we all strive to learn from our own as well as other people's mistakes.
Ever since our children were very young, Theresa and I have had a funny habit with our kids. It is calledTWD or TWM. We often joke about it and yet we repeatedly encourage it.
It simply means "Time with Dad" or "Time with Mom." It signifies Theresa or I taking just one of our three sons out alone and focusing exclusively on them as individuals. It could be dinner, a sports event or even a late night drive around the neighborhood.
I suspect as our kids travel through their own adolescent years, they may prefer mom and I to sit in the back seat. To their chagrin, we choose up front. I can then look up at those millions of stars in the heavens and know two of them are looking back at us. If I listen carefully, I can hear one of them saying, "That's marvelous Raymond."
Enjoy your week.
Enjoy your week.
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