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Two days ago I was sitting in the car with my elder daughter. We were parked at the curb with two car lengths between us and the car to our rear. In the rear view I see a large car approaching slowly and pointed generally toward the available space. The car was piloted by an elderly woman and moving very slowly but steadily and just kept coming until right about the time I was thinking, “Hey, she’s gonnna…” bonk! she hit us. Then she backed up and I told my daughter, “I think she’s gonna…” and bonk! she rear-ended the vehicle behind her (I reiterate: she was working with two spaces). Then she started moving toward us again. I jumped out and flagged her down. She scowled at me and rolled down her window. She looked about 80 and cranky. There was another lady in the passenger seat who looked to be about 90 and was on oxygen.

“What?” she said.

“Let me help you get parked,” I said.

“Whadd’you mean?” she said.

“Well, ma’am, you hit my car and then you hit the other car…I just…”

She leaned over the steering wheel and waved her hand at my car. “Do you see anything?”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“I barely bumped you,” she said.

“Yah, but, you…”

“It didn’t hurt anything.”

“Well, my daughter is in there, and you just can’t…”

“Acchh!” she said, slapped it in park and waved me off. As I watched her and the elderly pal head into the senior center (yes) she shot me a malevolent scowl.

Later my someone pointed out that I should have called the police, because clearly the woman shouldn’t be navigating in public, and they are quite right. What’s odd at 3 miles an hour will not be funny at all at highway speeds. But in the moment I was just so flabbergasted at her reaction that it didn’t occur to me.

She’s out there…

Regarding yesterday’s Facebook post: The Facebook and the blog and the Tweet and whatnot are a lively and lovely means of keeping in touch with people who help my little family and I get along by supporting the books and performing and all. It’s a pleasure to visit with you all here. The dispatches are also obviously a means of keeping our little ball rolling, with momentum supplied in part by me dropping in regularly to offer always heartfelt but largely lighthearted fare. I live and work in a deadline-driven world, and as such there are times (when a family member is facing a struggle, or I receive a note from someone who has lost someone dear to them, or I hear from the family of a young soldier home for the final time) when I feel a need to acknowledge that despite my online face, the world is not all cow jokes and frothy asides. Of course we all know that, but it seems only humane to pause sometimes and acknowledge this. And then – not in disrespect but with the intent of keeping going – we resume regular programming.

In happiness and sadness, we survive through kindness.