Dad, I'm OK
There is no more frightening start for a phone call that hearing "Dad, I'm OK." I got a call from Isaac last year when he told me that he had just been robbed by guys with pistols pointed at his head. He was robbed of all that he had, but he was OK. Shaken but OK.
Then tonight I received a call with the same shaky voice, "Dad, I'm OK, but the bridge I would have been on is gone." With that Isaac told me how he decided to visit a friend tonight instead of going home on 35W, his normal route at about 6pm. This is a bridge I know well, traveled often in our 13 years in Minneapolis. And now it's a grisly cartoon of folded concrete and twisted girders.
I was the fortunate parent who received a call that my child is OK. Many wait tonight having not yet heard from their loved ones. I think of Eugene Cho's blogging on the Korean Christians held captive by Taliban thugs, having already killed 2. Tonight, alone in quiet California, I feel fragile, that life is a tender gift. "Dad, I'm OK."