By Lorry Myers
My children are grown adults and seem to think that the world is their playground. All three are travelers, all of them for their jobs. I never know where these three will go or where their jobs will take them.
A ballgame in Chicago.
A shopping district in Malaysia.
An outdoor concert in a big city.
Just like the one in Las Vegas.
My husband constantly tells his adventurous children that they need to pay attention. He pleads with them to find the exits everywhere they go. “Be aware of your surroundings. Stay off the roads less traveled. Don’t go rushing in a crowd without a plan to get out,” he preaches.
But those are the very places his children want to be.
My son will drive hours out of his way to find the road less traveled his father wants him to avoid. My oldest daughter will find herself in the less savory parts of a city relying solely on the goodness of people and her cell phone. My youngest daughter will talk to anyone that appears to have an interesting story without regard to what the end of that story might be.
Much to their father’s dismay.
These three tend to like the masses that muddle a fairway, the throngs that throng a music venue, and the multitudes milling around a football stadium showing their colors. They thrive at a street fair with people spilling out of alleyways and they are fond of open-air concerts and causeways full of strangers.
They want to be where the action is.
After watching news coverage involving tragedies brought on by humans, my husband is worried that places with thousands of people are quickly becoming places of a thousand targets.
The world, my husband believes, is a dangerous place.
For the complete article, please see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.