When I was in elementary school, we lived in Kingston, Jamaica. We moved back to the United States shortly after my dad was attacked in our garage on the way to work one morning by two men - one wielding a heavy metal pipe and the other a machete. In that impoverished country, it's pretty likely they thought that briefcase he carried every day was stuffed with cash. Keeping his wits about him and a lot of luck probably saved Dad's life. It's the sort of thing that you would think might make ... View Post