Yesterday afternoon two things happened in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where I live.
One, the Dalai Lama made a speech. Two, a branch of Bank of America was robbed at gunpoint.
Guess which event I was at. The wrong one.
When my son Ben was five years old, in 1967, he was with me when I went into a bank in Portland, Maine, to cash a check. After we left the bank and were walking to the car, Ben asked: "Why did that guy in the bank have a gun?" I hadn't seen it. But I explained to him about Brinks, and Wells-Fargo, and how they move cash from banks, and the guards always stand there with their guns in their hands. Ben thought that fascinating.
Then we got in the car and I turned on the car radio as we pulled out of our parking space, and the radio was announcing the armed robbery of the bank we had just left.
Now: what do you think the chances are of a person being present at two different bank robberies??
Yet there I was yesterday, at the Bank of America.
If I were going to be present at such an event, I sort of wish I had been ordered to lie on the floor with my hands behind my bank. Then there would be drama, and maybe I would testify at the trial---or asked to look at line-ups and photo displays----and my cogent testimony and observational skills would solve the crime and put bad guys behind bars.
Instead, I was simply shoved hard and ordered to get out of the bank. Which I obediently did.
If I had gone to see the Dalai Lama I might have attained perfect happiness.