Irony....

I recently found out one of my college acquaintances died about a month ago. His name was Tyler Stimpson, and we crossed paths many times at UNH, and I even ended up teaching with his father, Tom, at Dover about ten year ago. Tyler was involved in the Army ROTC program at the college, with the dream of becoming, eventually, a Navy SEAL. After college, he went to OCS and was commissioned as a Marine Corp officer--a commission he then denied JUST so he could enlist in the Navy, and increase his chances of being accepted to BUD/S to be a SEAL. At UNH, Tyler and I would often swim together, as we both shared the same aspiration of going to Navy OCS, and, at least trying to make it both into (and through) BUD/S. We'd practice combat swimming drills in the big Olympic sized pool, and we'd even practice our 'drownproofing' techniques, having the lifeguard tie our hands behinds our backs--and then together--as we went to the bottom of the pool and simultaneously came up for air....and then went back down again; this was a common exercise at BUD/S and we wanted to practice. Now for the irony.

Tyler did, in fact, survive hell week, BUD/S, and The Finishing School, and became a decorated SEAL, serving in both Iraq and Afghanistan. He won a purple heart and medals for valor. His death occurred while on leave, with friends, when he decided to do some recreational skydiving. He survived the most grueling military process in the world, served his country honorably in hostile environments, and became an elite warrior....only to lose his life in a freak, supposed innocuous recreational exercise....

My dad has been in my thoughts and prayers lately, as he deals with many tough issues in his life as of late--most notably his knees (or lack thereof). Tyler's death, while it brought to mind the idea of extreme irony, also reminded me of my dad's INITIAL knee injury--the one that began the painful, enduring knee pain he feels today. It occurred at my first ever rugby match in college, when we were playing Northeastern University, and he came by to watch. Halfway through the first half, my friend Andrew drove a terrier out of bounds, crashing into my dad on the sideline, and knocking him down the small incline that surrounded the perimeter of the field. Isnt it ironic that I made it through 3 seasons of rugby at UNH unscathed (except for a separated shoulder from a stupid practice injury), and my parents, who were so worried about me getting hurt playing such a horrendous sport, were the ones who were injured?

Irony is such a prevalent thing in our lives...is it not?