cowards

I haven't felt much like writing lately. I really don't feel like writing now, but I'm going to. I'll just keep on until they make me stop, I guess.

I had an unusual experience a few weeks ago. I was in my car leaving Walmart with my 2 youngest granddaughters in the back seat. I looked up the street and saw something that seemed so out of place I couldn't process it for a moment. It was a walker, tipped over in the street. I was puzzling about that when I noticed the woman. She apparently had fallen on the sidewalk while trying to catch her walker as it rolled down the hill. I discovered later that she was waiting for a bus when the walker got away from her.

She was sprawled face down on the sidewalk with her feet pointing uphill. She was a large woman and because of her physical problems as well as her awkward position was unable to sit up, let alone stand.

I made a quick left turn uphill instead of the right turn I was planning and stopped my car. I put on my emergency flashers and told the girls that I would be right back, but I wouldn't be far away. I didn't want to upset them. I ran across the street and talked to the woman first to determine if she was ill or injured. I helped her turn over so that at least her face wasn't planted in the sidewalk. I was looking around frantically for help because I knew I wasn't going to be able to get her up alone. She out-weighed me by 80 or more pounds. I saw a car in the same spot I had been moments before when I spotted her. I made eye contact with the driver of the car and waved like crazy to let her know I needed help -I was yelling for help at that moment, as well. The driver looked at me, turned her head and drove away - pretending she didn't see me. She saw me and the position I was in I have no doubt, but chose to drive away rather than get involved.

Moments later another car pulled up behind mine. A young woman yelled out the window "do you need help?" All I could do was say was a grateful "yes!". She jumped out of the car and ran across the street. As she bent over to help me, I recognized her as a young woman I have known for much of her life. She helped me get the woman on her feet and we determined she wasn't hurt other than some scrapes and bruises. Then and only then the young woman looked at me and said "oh my gosh...I didn't even recognize that it was you!"

My point in telling this story is probably a little vague, but I'll try to make it more clear. The young woman who stopped and helped was a hero. She didn't worry about getting involved. She simply saw someone in need and acted on it. I doubt she even had to think about it - it came as natural to her as breathing. She wasn't worried about it messing up her schedule or taking up her valuable time.

The other woman was a coward. She may have been worried about an appointment, or the next stop on her list of errands. Or perhaps she wasn't physically able to help, but she certainly could have taken a moment to go back into the store and get some help.

There will always be cowards. People who don't want to take the time or effort to get involved. Those people will never know what they are missing in life. These types of situations come along in our lives rarely and if we are able to help another human being - even for a moment - it is our duty, honor and privilege to do so. I know that. Chrystal knows that. I wonder if the woman in the other car has any idea of the opportunity she missed to serve.

My Tree

(I wrote this about 1984 - I just found a little booklet it had been published in. It sure speaks to the time when I had a bunch of little kids about.)

My Tree
By Debby Johnson


I looked out my window
At noon to see

Seven little children
In my favorite tree!

Sawing and nailing
With unbridled zeal,

Forging a spot
Where they can feel

Unique, special
In their own little space

Where secrets, games
And fantasy take place.

But what of my Oak
In its glorious obscurity,

To grow and live
In relative security?

My head is saying
"kids, can't you see

The harm you're doing
That lovely old tree?"

Then my heart pipes in
"Oh, it'll survive,

In fact I'll bet
It will even thrive!"

Then as I look
Out my window I'll see

The children growing
As well as the tree.

Disclaimer

My brother Jim wrote to correct me on some details of Dad's garage door device.

" Just a note about Dad's garage door contraption. It was not an opener but only a closer. As you pulled out of the garage you would pull on the handle that was attached to the rope and the doors would close without getting out of the car. The doors would close one door at a time and it was fun to watch. Dad was very proud of his apparatus. But after about the third time some darn fool broke it trying to open the garage doors, Dad did not repair it anymore. It was great at the time. "

I should put a disclaimer on all my memories that they are subject to my kid-brain interpretation. In fact...consider this my disclaimer.

:)

Baby Baluga

This is my granddaughter Juliet singing "Baby Baluga"...I THOUGHT I was getting the video on the sly until she popped up and asked to see it. Aren't cell phones cool nowadays? Oh yeah...that's my finger in the way of the video.

The Shiney Red Van

This has been a crummy day. It's cold. It's raining. The walls are closing in on me. I decided to go to the store and get some soda since I was out of it. Every nut-case driver in Salem - and there are many - was on the road. My mind was wandering all over the place when I had a flash of memory from well over 20 years ago.

I was driving home from work on the freeway in Beaverton. At the time we had two cars, a Mercury Zephyr and a big Chevy van. This particular time I was driving the van. Traffic was horrible. I saw ahead a car stopped along the road. There were 6 small children all about the same age and a frazzled looking mother standing outside the car. I decided to stop. It turned out that the son of the woman was having his fifth birthday and these were his friends. They were on their way to a popular birthday place when her car died. I must have looked honest, or else she was beyond frazzled because she bundled all the children into my van. She had a relative who lived nearby and I took them there and then went on my way home.

The next day I was driving the Mercury home and I noticed what appeared to be the same car, in the same spot. This time there was a man in it and the car was clearly idling. I remember thinking "what are the odds..." but I continued on home. I drove the Mercury for several more days. Towards the end of the week I decided to take the van again. As I climbed up into the driver's seat, something on the floor in the back caught my attention. I was thinking "what in the world?" when I remembered my rescue mission a few days before. The woman, in her frazzled state had left her purse in my van! I quickly picked it up and began to search for some I.D. so I could call her and tell her I found it. When I opened the purse I saw an open eve lope filled with some cash and a large pile of checks. All the checks were made out to the same place of business so I realized this was the days receipts for them and she must have been planning to make a (large) deposit. Yikes!

I found a phone number and called her. When I identified myself she told me "Oh, I just KNEW you'd call! Anyone who would pick up six kids HAD to be a good person! I was never worried a bit..." It turned out the car I saw idling along the road the day after the rescue was her husband, hoping to spot the red and silver van. She said he was sure the money was gone forever. I returned her purse to the relatives house where I had left the children a few days before. I also left my name and address on a card in it. I wanted to assure her husband I was on the up-and-up, also if anything turned up 'missing' they would have a name to go along with my face and van.

A few days later I received a huge floral arrangement as a thank you. It was unnecessary, but a very nice gesture anyway.

As I thought about this old memory, I felt good about the way it all turned out. I never saw the people again, but I knew I had done all I could in that situation. As I drove along the present-day road in Salem, I smiled. Then some jerk zipped around me and cut me off. I offered a gesture for his inspection. That was all I could do today, too.

Be the first in your neighborhood...

I always thought of my dad as an inventor of sorts. We were the only family in the neighborhood with an automatic garage door opener. Now keep in mind this was the 1950's...long before they became as commonplace at home as a stove or any other appliance. What an amazing device it was.

A long pipe jutted out horizontally from the garage with a rope hanging from it. The distance from the garage door gained by the pipe allowed the driver of the car to simply reach out of the car window and pull the rope while remaining in the vehicle. The rope snaked through a carefully placed hole in the garage wall to a system of pulleys. From there the rope attached to counter weights hung to balance the weight of the doors. With more hardware, a rope was attached to each side of the garage door. A simple pull of the single rope outside the door by the driver would allow it magically (or so it appeared to a small child) open from the center. You could then pull the car right in.

Dad often puttered and would come up with some way to to get around a problem or make a job easier. He built an amazing set of wheel lifts to help level his RV later in his life. They were built of wood and almost crescent-shaped.(if you cut a crescent off at the thickest point). He could put one under a low wheel and drive forward on it. As the motor home moved forward several inches, it would be lifted up.

I was on my own this weekend at the beach house and spent a lot of time puttering around and fixing little things. I came up with a few inventive ways and was proud of what I did. It reminded me of my dad and the way he liked to putter. Like father like daughter I guess.

Comfort

My brother Jim and my niece Tammy have both been encouraging me to write again. I guess it has been awhile. It's amazing how time flies. I was going to write something profound there, but I couldn't think of anything better. Time does fly when you have a project going or work deadlines, or in my case - anticipating the next challenge Dora the Explorer will face THIS week and whether or not Boots her sidekick (and a monkey) will be able to help or be a hindrance. Yes - Dora the Explorer is a cartoon character I acknowledge this, but I've grown accustomed to the formula used to teach small children basic concepts on this TV show and I find comfort in it.

Shifting gears...

I began a watercolor painting class two weeks ago. I've taken one other class about 6 years ago and enjoyed it, but other things took precedence and I allowed my paints to collect dust. It's been surprisingly fun to get them out again. I don't paint well at all, but I enjoy the process. There are rules and steps to follow. The subject changes with each new sheet of paper but the basic process remains the same. There's a relaxing quality about the sameness of it while you work. Then suddenly the steps stop and you are required to use your own creativity. It's rather like a long drive. If things go along as they should. You follow the rules and move along the road at a good clip until the dumb guy in the other car cuts you off and you have to fight for control, or a deer runs across the road and you run into a ditch and ruin your car. (Yes, I'm also known as Little Mary Sunshine...) I do seem to be getting far away from my train of thought here.

Anyway...

I believe my point here (somewhere) is about the comfort you find in sameness. In routine. In following the rules (traffic rules don't count-let's not get crazy here).

I'll try harder next time to come up with a better subject.

:)