Should we really call them victims?

First victim, Artim, 18 years old. Traveling from Atlanta to Boston for college where he is studying Business. He’s not really sure what he wants to do, as very few are at that age! I told him he’d need a hat during the winter there so he tried mine on. I offered mine but I don’t think it was his style.

Artim grew up in Atlanta with his parents who are from Iran. His parents did not come to the US together, but separately, and met in NY. I asked Artim if he knew his parents story. He did not. I encouraged him to ask them, know their story because one day….. he’ll want to tell it.

His grandparents are still in Iran. I told him…. Imagine…. Just imagine leaving the country you grew up, leaving your parents, not knowing if you’ll see them again…. Leaving to search for a better life for yourself. Not knowing the outcome but knowing it has to be better than what this life has dealt you. Can you imagine? He could not. I cannot either. As my parents are relatively close in proximity to me and despite a few bumps in the road, I’ve had a pretty good life!

I didn’t think there would be another victim today but then I shared a beer with Dylan. “Spelled the right way”, he said. He’s headed to Abu Dhabi with his cousin who is competing in the Spartan World Championship. Of course, I got his cousins name and had to look him up. Very cool!

Not sure if they’ll be another today or not. I really need a nap on this next leg! And should we really call them victims? They may feel like victims while I’m interrogating them but for me, they are definitely a blessing.