You Are Someone Else's "Someone Else".

Or, I have not come to bury “sheepdogs“, but to praise them.

My wife asked me yesterday morning if I would take action if I were caught in a San Bernardino-style attack*.

I told her my priority is and always will be getting her and our family to safety, but if they were safe or they weren’t around that yes, I would step into the fray, for two reasons.

  1. If I were unarmed and unable to defend myself, I’d be praying** for someone else to come to my rescue and save me from dying. Being armed and trained means that someone else might be me.
  2. I don’t think I could live with myself knowing that I could have saved lives, but chose not to. It’s true that my time to regret such actions might be significantly longer if I ran away from the sound of gunfire rather than running towards it, but I made that choice a long, long time ago, and I’m not likely to change my mind now.

* How sad is it that we now say “San Bernardino-style attacks” like we would “Paris-style attacks” or “Mumbai-style attacks”?

** Screw you, New York Daily News. If your editors had been in that conference room Wednesday, they’d be praying harder than a cloistered monk at vespers.