Now, WHY I trust my husband

I have learned to blindly trust my husband, IrishAl. I don't like to be TOLD what to do, but when IrishAl barks a command at me, I tend to listen. It's rare for him to command me to do things. So when he does, it is because he fears for my safety. And I take him at his word when it comes to caring for the safety of his family.



IrishAl has a serious upbringing that has prepared him for keeping people safe. He grew up in Belfast, N. Ireland, where kids used to play in the streets around the rubble of exploded houses and buildings the same way we play in the dirt here. Terrorism, bombs, and army protection were the norm during his formative years. My husband then joined the army when he turned 18, training to become an officer. On hiatus from college and the army, he studied abroad at a college in Oklahoma, and that is where we met. Thus, I changed the course of his history when he married me and moved to Oklahoma for good.



All this upbringing plus the army training has cultivated an innate ability to sense danger. Take, for example, my very first University of Oklahoma football game a few years back. I sat with my friend Tina, and IrishAl sat with Tina's husband, Chuck, across the stadium from us. During the game, we heard and felt a huge boom. I shrugged it off because nothing bad ever happens in my little world. Surely it's nothing, I thought. Within a few minutes, IrishAl called me on my cell. I'll never forget his calm and assertive tone that caused my spine to shiver. "Get up, get your stuff, and leave now. I'll meet you outside the ramp."

My friend, Tina, was not onboard with the plan. Little did we know what IrishAl's educated ear knew. A student had set off a bomb outside an OU building. Because we left early, we did not get shut into the stadium with the rest of the masses. I always trust the frightenly educated mind of my husband.

I will also never forget traveling inside the Catholic terrorist part of Belfast, N. Ireland, to get Irish dance shoes for me. IrishAl had been living in the US for a few years, but his senses were not dulled by our easy way of life. We returned for a visit, and I begged him to take me to purchase authentic Irish hard soled shoes for my dancing. IrishAl DEBRIEFED me prior to our journey from his family home. "We go, we get in, we get out. No messin' about. And you're to do all the talkin'." Of course, not good at just blindly following, I had to question. "Why can't you talk? What if I want to ask questions? Will they hate me because I'm American. Everyone hates us." I thought the last comment was quite cute. He did not.

During our venture, IrishAl decided to wait in the car, while I finished paying for my purchase. As soon as I got to the car, he nervously prodded me, "Get in! Get in! We need to leave now!" What looked like a car of young adults to me, looked like a gathering of IRA provisionals to him. I think he left half of the his da's tires on the street there in front of the shop. Like I said before, nothing dangerous ever really happens in my world. But in IrishAl's, he still, even in Oklahoma, varies his driving route home every day, "because you never know who's watching."

Ultimately, I know that whatever may go down, IrishAl's got my back. And I'd sure rather be on his side than against him. And that is why I trust my husband.