A chink in the armor: thoughts on Ryan Boyd's death

               I have a callous streak in me.  I can’t help it.  When I read yet another story about some teenage kid who is killed in a car accident because he or she was going eighty down a twisty mountain road, or driving after having had twelve beers, I shed not a tear.  Act stupid, pay the price.  The reports in the paper always include quotes from family and friends about how great the kid was and how he or she will be missed.  And, I think that those remembrances gloss over the hidden truth about the victim or victims.  Youth has never been an excuse to me.  Where stupidity kills, I don’t have much sympathy.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know certain realities – don’t drive drunk, don’t drive dangerously on narrow roads.  Think smart.  Be smart.  Live smart. 

                Today that may have all changed.   There’s a chink in my armor.   As reported here  and , Ryan Boyd, with all of sixteen years of life behind him, was killed in a Saturday night accident in Elk Grove.  The cause of the accident is still unknown.  What is known is that the car hit a power pole on a darkened two-lane road and flipped over.  Ryan was a passenger in the back seat and may not have been wearing a seatbelt.

                 For the first time, I know the victim.  Ryan was one of the many boys who have entered and left my life as the result of coaching baseball and soccer.  He played with my oldest son for only one baseball season.  Since then, I’ve run into him off and on over the years.  He never changed.  Always quiet.  Respectful.  A smile on his face.

                 I hope this was a simple accident.  On that stretch of road, it certainly could have been.  But, I have this gut feeling there’s going to be something else.  Three teenagers in a car.  These days there’s a law against that.  What else were they doing?  It doesn’t really matter.  I knew Ryan.  I can’t grieve this accident and remain callous about the ones I don’t know, no matter the stupidity involved.  No parent should lose a child like this.  From now on, I’ll remember that.  My frustration at teenagers going beyond their limits will be overwhelmed by the thought of a parent losing a child, the greatest fear we all have.

                 Ryan Boyd, rest in peace.  To your family and friends, my thoughts are with you.  May you find a way to grieve, find solace, and then to move on, without ever forgetting the goodness that was your son, cousin, nephew and friend.