YOUR PROBLEM IS...

I had not seen my old buddy Steve in Kentucky since just after his wife had died.  I was headed that way and called him, and he insisted that I stop over.  He said he had a surprise for me.

When I arrived, he ran out of the house and grabbed me tightly for a big hug.  Steve means a whole lot to me, always has, and I was tickled to see him.  A stern woman stuck her head out the door and called,  "Steve, please get in the house now, I need your help."

"Who is that?" I asked him after she'd gone back in.

"That's the surprise I told you about."  He dug his hands deep into his pockets.  "Her name is Carrie, and she is my, uh..."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"The question is, can you say that."

He punched me playfully on the shoulder.  "Sure I can.  Girlfriend.  See, there, I said it."

"I'm glad you found someone.  I was worried about you after... you know."

"I lost my wife, and I grieved.  But now I met Carrie, and she has helped me more than you know."

I smiled.  "I'm glad, Steve."  We walked inside together, and I walked up to Carrie.  "Hi Carrie, I'm--"

"I know who you are," she snapped.  "Steve has told me all about you.  Frankly, he talks about you so much I'd almost think you guys were queer."

Steve shook his head.  "Oh, honey."

"Don't Oh Honey me, you need to set the table.  Dinner is almost ready."

"It smells very good," I offered.

"Oooo, praise from Bill Thomas.  I can die and go to Heaven now."  She chuckled and turned away.

"How did you two meet, Carrie?"

She spun around and looked at me with piercing eyes.  "You know what your problem is, Bill?  You are too damned nosey.  You need to learn to mind your own business."

Steve said,  "Hey Carrie, he's our guest."

She turned on Steve.  "You need to hush up and do your job."  She looked back at me.  "Just look at you, Bill.  You are rubbing your hands together nervously.  What's the problem?  You got something to hide?"

I looked down and realized she was right.  I was rubbing my hands together.  But I really didn't think there was any hidden agenda involved.  I grinned and asked,  "So what's for supper?"

"No, no, don't try to change the subject.  You know what your problem is, Bill?  You can't face the world directly, you are always looking for diversions.  You don't know how to look life square in the eyes."

"That's an interesting perspective," I said, trying to stay friendly.

"I'm just stating the plain, simple facts.  There's nothing subjective about it."

"OK, gotcha."

Steve walked up to me and patted me on the shoulders.  "So Bill, tell us about your latest adventures on the road."

Carried slammed her hand down on the kitchen counter.  "No sir, we do not need to hear about that crap.  If you want to know what he's doing out on the road, why don't you just read his stupid blogs?"

Steve stared at her.  "I always do."

"I know you always do, and there are more important things in life you should be focused on."  Then she pointed her finger directly at me.  "You know what your problem is, Bill?  You write about life instead of living it.  No wonder no woman ever wants to be with you."

"Beg pardon, who said no women want to be with me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked

"Not to me."

"Well according to Steve, you are in love with a lesbian.  How weird is that?"

Steve spoke up.  "Carrie, this girl Karen and Bill have a long history.  It's not that cut and dried."

"Oh yes, it is that cut and it is that dried.   Don't try to tell me differently.  Bill has no idea what to do with his life."

I was taken aback.  "Really?  I don't?"

She leaned in towards me.  "You know what your problem is, Bill?  You are waiting for your ship to come in.  Every day you wake up and run to look out the window, just hoping that today will be the day your ship comes in.  I got news for you, its never coming in.  Learn to deal with that."

"Gee Carrie, you've given me a lot to think about."

"That's who I am and what I do.  I tell it like it is.  You don't have to tell me I'm right about you, because I see right inside of you.  I can see right through you.  When your head hits the pillow tonight, the last thing you're going to think is  'Wow, that woman really nailed all of my problems and shortcomings.'  I'm trying to help you."

"Thanks, I guess."

"You know what your real problem is, Bill?  You know some intensive therapy from a good psychotherapist.  Seriously.  For your own good, you need to deal with your screwed up situation.  Dinner is ready, let's eat."

The dinner smelled a whole lot better than it tasted.  I didn't say much, and neither did Steve.  Carrie had a lot to say, most of it not very positive.  After dinner, Steve and I walked outside.  I told him I was going to stay at a motel, and he was obviously hurt that I wouldn't be sleeping at his house.

"It's not because of Carrie, is it?  She doesn't mean any harm."

"Buddy, if she makes you happy, then I'm all for it.  But I'm not prepared to deal with a sleepover at that level of negativity.  She doesn't know me well enough to tell me what my problems are."

"My wife used to do it all the time.  You never seemed to mind."

"I hated it.  But I never felt empowered enough to do anything about it.  Guess I'm growing as a person, because I won't put up with that kind of crap anymore.  I care about myself."

Steve got emotional.  "I care about you, too.  You're my brother."

We hugged tightly, and I said into his ear,  "Love you too, bro."  Then I got into the car and drove sadly away. 

LOVE AND HEADLIGHTS

I had just delivered a car to Flint, Michigan when my boss Riff called with another job for me.  "Hello, my puckish little donut hole.  Are you ready for a new adventure?"

I noticed that he was slurring his words.  "Are you drunk, Riff?"

"Why ever would you ask me that, you pumpernickel polka dot?  It just so happens I am."

"Where's the pick up?"

"In Lansing, Michigan.  And let me tell you, this woman does not want to give up her car."

"Did she get fired?" I asked.

"Yes indeed, my little pussywillow."

"Send me the info, I'm on my way."  Much as I hate to, I caught a bus to Lansing.  But it wasn't Greyhound, it was Trailways, and not quite so bad.

By late that same afternoon, I arrived at the home of the woman.  She ran out the front door into her yard wearing a nightgown and said,  "Well hello.  Are you the gentleman who has come to steal my car?"

"Not steal, just return to your company.  I'm Bill Thomas."

She held out her hand as if she expected me to kiss it, like in old times.  "Charmed.  I am Miss Anna Versa.  And I must say, I am troubled that you are taking my lover."

This confused me.  "Um there must be some sort of misunderstanding.  I'm here for the car."

"That's what I said."  She hurried over to the black Ford Taurus in her driveway.  She proceeded to lay across the hood and roll around with seemingly nasty intentions.  "My lover."

"I just need to do a quick condition report, then I'll be out of your hair."

"Oh, you're not in my hair.  Although Jack here was many, many times.  More than I can count."

"Jack?"

"My lover.  Who you are kidnapping right out from under me."

I tried to ignore this nonsense and began to quickly do the condition report.  She walked slowly around the car, pressing herself against it and rubbing her body on it.  "Do you have the keys?" I asked.

"Yes, I have the keys to my lover's heart."  She reached down into her ample cleavage and came up with a key, which she handed to me.  "Jack was quite a frisky lover, he liked to take me hard, and yes sir he liked it rough."  She giggled like a schoolgirl.

"I see."

"Jack is an impetuous boy, and yet he is a rugged, solid man.  You might say he's a bit of an enigma."

"I might."  I suddenly remembered a woman I met who said that her car was named Alice and she stole from her.  But this lady took car crazy to a whole new level.

She opened the door and climbed into the back seat, lying on her back and kicking her legs up in the air.  "I can't begin to tell you all the many times that Jack and I enjoyed carnal pleasures in the backseat.  He really knew how to ring my bell."

I was not about to ask her how she made love to a car.  The very idea was both disturbing and somewhat perplexing.  "How long since you've had the car serviced?"

She wagged a finger at me.  "Oh Bill, you naughty boy.  You want to know all of the lurid details.  Suffice it to say that I serviced Jack once a day, every day.  And each day was better than the one before.  If you know what I mean, and I think you do."

"I was talking about an oil and filter change."

She climbed out of the car. "Well, I poured Crisco oil all over my body.  Does that count?"

Writing as fast as I could, I tried to skip over any further questions.  Then without any warning, Anna fell to the ground and began to cry.  "Ma'am, are you OK?"

"No.  And I fear that I shall never be OK, not without Jack in my life.  Just because the powers that be decided to dismiss me from my job, they could have sold me Jack.  I offered to pay a huge sum, but they rejected me.  They seem determined to separate me from my one true love.  And you are the instrument of their chicanery."

"I don't know if I'd say that."

She pointed at me accusingly.  "Oh yes, it's you!  You!  You are the bastard that brings me pain and misery.  You are the creature who wants to break my heart.  And have you stopped to think what this will do to Jack?"  She got back up onto her feet, then began to lick the windshield.  Her tongue was long and talented.

"I'm almost done, then I'll be gone."

"And when you're gone, my lover will be gone.  My dear, sweet Jack."  She began to suck on her fingers, much the same way a child sucks its thumb.  She walked up to the front of the car and ran her hands ever so gently over the grill.  And then she leaned down to the front left headlight.  "Oh Jack, darling Jack, you have the most beautiful headlights in the world.  How will I get along without your high beams?"  She kissed the headlight for a long moment.

"OK, I just need you to sign here."  I handed her the paperwork.

"And what if I don't?"

"I think that Jack would want it this way."

She turned away from me dramatically.  Then she looked at me again and smiled.  "You're right, of course.  Jack was always the sensible one in our relationship."  She signed the paperwork and then ran into the house crying.

As I drove down her street, I patted the steering wheel.  "Well Jack, we have a long ride ahead to Atlanta.  Are you up for it, buddy?"  But Jack said nothing.  He was probably still sad over leaving Anna.

CRYSTAL BALL

On my way to Minnesota last week, I stopped off at a small rural gas station.  I was very low on fuel, and had to run to the restroom.  When I came out of the restroom, which was around the back of the building, I heard a faint voice call out to me.  "Can you help me?  Please sir?"

I looked over and saw a small, withered old woman sitting on the ground wearing tattered clothes.  She had a rag tied around her head, and she looked sad and troubled.  At first I thought it was just another one of "Bill's people" and I wanted to flee.  But something about her and the way she sat reminded me very much of the little old bird woman in MARY POPPINS.  That song FEED THE BIRDS has always haunted me, and it is from one of my favorite all time movies.

"Help me, please?" she said again.

"What do you need?" I asked.

"I just need a little bit of money to get a bite to eat.  If you will help me, I will read your fortune."

"Read my fortune?"  I was skeptical, but have learned over the years to keep an open mind.  Mostly I just felt for her and wanted to help her out.  I reached into my pocket.  "I only have four dollars cash right now."

"That will do, give it to me."  I handed over the cash.  "Now come closer and give me your hand."

I did as she said, then smiled and said,  "Don't you have a crystal ball?"

"Hush!" she demanded.  Her hands were dirty, but I let her take my own freshly washed hand and feel it.  First she pressed lightly on the flesh of my palm, then she ran her fingers lightly over the lines in my hand.  Suddenly, she squeezed tightly and closed her eyes and made a face of deep concentration.  It was as if she were drifting away.

"You OK?"

"Shh!  Hush now!" she commanded me.  And I did what she said.  She kept her eyes closed and began to chant.  "You drive very far, long distances, every day."

"How did you --"

"Hush!" she interrupted.  "You have many friends who love you, yet you are lonely.  You are looking for answers, but aren't quite sure you know the questions.  You want to find your father... no, you lost your father...  no, wait...  your father died and yet you still search for him.  You have dreams that you don't make come true.  You just drive."

I had chills running up and down my back.  How in the world could she know all of this about me.  It was as if she were inside my soul rummaging around.

"You care about others, sometimes more than you care about yourself.  You try so hard to help other people, but many times it works out badly.  You try to do unto others, and live by a code of honor that others see as a sign of weakness."  She held one hand high up in the air.  "You must stop.  You must take inventory and learn to relax.  You have a good heart, but no one to share it with.  There is hope for you yet, but only if you find the key to unlock the anguish in your heart, and then dispose of it.  Get rid of it!"

I nodded.  "Anything else?"

"Yes.  Beware of the marshes, the mire and the muck.  Beware of the swamps that hide killer ducks."

I shook my head.  "What does that mean?"

"Take heed!  Mark my words!"

"OK."

"Now go.  And have a lovely day."

I hurried to my car and drove away.  This was rather eerie.  She knew so much personal information about me.  But the warning about the ducks at the end was oddly mysterious.  I got out my CD case and popped in the MARY POPPINS soundtrack.  Put on the song FEED THE BIRDS, because it was on my mind and I really love that song.  I've read that it was Walt Disney's favorite song, also.

DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL

It had been a hard couple of weeks for me.  So I was happy to be taking a car to Richmond, and just had a good feeling in my gut that this time I would catch up with Karen.  I had not seen her since she left Indianapolis, and I needed some of her loving friendship.  Badly.

I arrived in Richmond the day before I was set to deliver.  I went straight to the Garden Of Eat'n Cafe, and I looked in the window to see her.  My heart leaped to new heights, and I felt so good all over.  She didn't see me, but I stood there for a moment just watching her.  Enjoying her glow, her sweet and simple beauty.  And yes, her shiny blonde hair.  I love this woman.

And then something completely unexpected happened.  Her ex-girlfriend Cheryl stepped out from the kitchen door.  They spoke for a minute, and laughed together.  Then Cheryl leaned in close and kissed Karen on the lips.  Suddenly, my heart sunk.

When Cheryl walked back into the kitchen, Karen turned and looked out the window.  Her face lit up and she ran to the door to greet me.  "Hey you!" she said cheerfully.

"Hey gal."

"Get over here quick and give me a hug.  Its been too long."

I walked over and hugged her, though I must admit that she was hugging tighter than me.  "How have you been?"

"The question is, how have You been?  I thought you would have come to visit me before now."

"I did come, several times.  You were either gone the days I came, or the Cafe was closed."

Karen looked down at her feet for a minute.  "Uh, yeah, well I made a few trips back to Indy.  There was some stuff to take care of."

"Cheryl?"

"Yes, Cheryl, is that a problem?" she asked in a defensive tone.

"No, no.  I'm just a little confused.  I thought you moved here partly to get away from her."

"I did, partly.  But she... I mean we...  Bill, she wrote me poetry.  No girl has ever written me poetry."

"I used to write you stories all the time."

"You're not a girl, silly."

"Thank God for that."

Karen looked at me with an odd expression.  "Am I detecting a little attitude from you?"

I shrugged.  "I just thought we'd have more quality time together."

She nodded.  "I think I know what you thought.  What did you think, Bill?  That because I broke up with my girlfriend I wasn't gay anymore?"

"Clearly you haven't broken up with your girlfriend."

"We did, but... well, she missed me.  And I guess I missed her, too."

I shuffled my feet around.  "Does she live here now?"

She shook her head no.  "She is just here for an extended visit.  She doesn't like it here.  I think she wants me to move back to Indy."

"Are you gonna?"

"Would that be a problem for you?"

"I don't know, Karen, would it be a problem for you?"

She gave me an appraising look.  "I don't like you like this.  Your kind heart just flew out the window."

"Sorry."

"No, I don't think you are.  I was going to invite you in for a bite, but I don't need the negativity in my Cafe."

"Alright, then."  I began to walk away.

She stepped towards me and grabbed my hand.  "Hey."  I turned around.  "Get this crap out of your system then come back and see me.  OK?"  She paused.  "You know I love you, right?"

"Love you, too," I mumbled.  And then I got into the car and drove away.

THE PRESIDENT'S NIECE

I was told by my boss Riff to pick up a car from a lady in Florida. The car was going to her horse ranch up in Virginia, 30 miles outside of Washington, D.C. And he told me that she was the great niece of a famous former President of the United States.

Riff called me at the last minute to say that another driver would be meeting me at her Florida mansion. He said that she had two cars, and that we were to drive them north in tandem. When I walked up her driveway, I heard a male voice say loudly, “It’s you!” Out from behind a big tree stepped Andy, the paranoid driver who I had come across several times in the past. He was obviously high as a kite.

“Hello Andy,” I said.

“Don’t call me that. Do not call me Andy like we are friends. You always conspire against me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean you to mistake me for being a friend. I was just trying to be polite and civil.”

“Don’t try any of that stuff either. Hear me? I’ve had just about enough of you, Mister. I know you and your game, you are out to get me!”

“Fine, whatever.”

“Oh no, you can’t just blow me off like yesterday’s news. We are being forced to work together, to ride in tandem, to caravan together. So just remember that I’m in charge.”

“I’ll be going my own way, I suggest you do the same.”

“You will be subservient to me, you will follow my directions. You follow me? Cuz if you don’t, I will punish you. I will come down on you like the wrath of God, or worse, like the wrath of a woman scorned. God has no wrath like a woman scorned!”

The lady walked out the door. She seemed distracted and a little bit haughty. I tried to shush Andy. “Shh, quiet, here she comes,” I pleaded.

“Don’t you shush me, I will not be shushed.”

“Shh!”

“I will not be shushed by the likes of you. Say, do you know who her father is?”

“Andy, shut up.” She stepped up to us. “Hello ma’am, I’m Bill Thomas and he’s Andy.”

“Fine. Who is driving the Escalade?” She held out a set of keys.

Andy stepped forward and snatched the keys from her hand. “That will be my honor. I am the best driver in our company, and proud of it. By the way, I loved your father. He was the best leader this country ever had.”

She let out a resigned sigh. “He was my great uncle.”

Andy winked at her. “I know he was, I just bet he was. You guys must be rich, based on what I’m seeing here. How much would you say you’re worth, total assets?”

The woman looked perturbed and not a little shocked. “That’s none of your business. Just do your job.”

Andy acted like he was trying to flirt. He leered at her and spoke suggestively. “You do YOUR job.” Much as I don’t care about Andy, I was feeling embarrassed for him. He was so clueless.

She turned to me. “So you’ll be driving my Mercedes?”

“Yes. I will be there day after tomorrow.” She turned and went back into the house.

Andy began to give me instructions about how we were going to drive, when we were going to take breaks. I completely ignored him, climbing into the Mercedes sedan and taking off. The car was so full that there was barely enough room for me and my duffel bag. She had loaded it beyond capacity, and I was worried that I couldn’t see out the back window.

It was a long hard drive up to Virginia. There were a whole lot of snowbirds going up I-95 from Florida to their summer homes in the northeastern states. The problem with all these many senior citizens on the road all at once is that some of them go 65mph, some 60, and some 50. It causes a whole lot of unnecessary traffic backups. Especially when the ones going 50mph get in the left lane and just stay there. Most people just line up behind them like there is no other choice. I personally get into the right lane and cruise on by them. The speed limit is 70, and that is what I intend to do.

I called the former President’s niece early on the day I was set to deliver. She was not answering her phone, so I simply told her voicemail what time I would arrive. As I neared her horse ranch, the roads got more winding and narrow, and following the Mapquest instructions became increasingly difficult. The final dirt road that led five miles to her property was one lane, and made things tricky when an huge truck came towards me from the opposite direction. I had to press the car on the side as close as I could snuggle up to a barbed wire fence. Even then, I was not too sure that the truck would get by me. There were literally inches to spare.

When I pulled up in front of her ranch house, she came marching out in a huff and put her hands on her hips. “Where is the other guy?”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“The guy driving my Escalade. He left a very strange message for me this morning saying that he was going to take some time and stop at Civil War battlefields along the way. He said my father would understand.”

“I think he meant your great uncle.”

“I know what he meant. I don’t care what he meant. Where is my Escalade?”

“I think you should call my boss Riff.”

“No, I’m asking you.”

“No disrespect meant, but I got your Mercedes here safely. I can’t be responsible for another driver.” Especially when it’s Andy, I thought to myself.

“Leave the car there, I’m going inside to call your boss. You may leave.”

“I have to wait for the airport shuttle to come and pick me up.”

“Honestly, I am not happy with you waiting here on my property.”

I looked around at the vast nothingness. “I’m not sure where else I can wait.”

“Just please make yourself scarce.” She stormed inside, very unhappy.

I walked up the driveway to the dirt road, guessing I could see the shuttle better when it came to pick me up. As I walked along, a large mocha colored dog came running up to me. He really wanted to be friends, and I really love dogs. So I bent down and petted him. He licked me on the face. After a few minutes, I continued up the driveway, and he followed me. The woman came out the door and began to shout. “Potus! Potus! Come back here.” The dog didn’t budge. “Potus, get down here right now! Potus! I will whip you if you don’t get down here.” I felt sorry for the dog. I would not want this woman to be mad at me, but Potus seemed happy to hang out with me. So I started walking back down towards the house, and the dog followed me. She pointed at me. “What are you doing?” she said, sounding confused and nervous.

“What?”

“Why are you coming back into my yard?”

“The dog is following me.”

“The dog is coming because I called the dog. You can stay up by the road.” I stopped, and the dog stopped next to me. The woman seemed irritated. She turned on her heel and went into the house. Then she came back out onto the porch carrying a raw steak. “Potus!” The dog went bounding towards her, and she went into the house. The dog followed her, and she slammed the door hard.

As I stood waiting for the airport shuttle, my cell phone rang. “Hello, Riff.”

“I just got a very upset call from the lady you delivered to. She said you were molesting her dog.”

“I pet the dog, that’s all.”

“Why in the world did you deliver without Andy?”

“Because Andy is a flake. He called the lady and said he is stopping to tour Civil War battlefields on his way up. He may show up in the next two days.”

“Well then, your job is to back him up. He happens to be patriotic. If he delays delivery, then so do you.”

“No sir. I deliver promptly and responsibly, on time as promised.”

“You are a freakin’ boy scout. No one likes a good citizen. You need to get rough around the edges and learn to be a man!”

I hung up. Then I turned and looked at the house where Potus lived. Suddenly, I remembered having seen pictures of this particular President and his family in front of this house. Wow. With all the weird people I meet and strange adventures I experience, there is something pretty cool about this job sometimes.

TOOL JOB

My cell phone rang as I neared Monroe, Louisiana. "Hello, who is this?" came the familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Mrs. Sherman," I said.

"Bill? Bill, is that you? Oh, it is so nice to hear from you. I was just thinking of you."

"That's probably why you called me."

"Did I call you? I thought you had called me. Isn't that funny?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I so enjoyed seeing you at the Valentine's Ball two months ago. I wanted a chance to dance with you."

"Your friend seemed to want me as her exclusive dance partner."

"Well, I say that was mighty selfish of her," she huffed. "I wanted my chance with you. Why, we would have tripped the light fantastic, just like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers."

I laughed. "Well, I don't think I can dance like Fred Astaire."

"Maybe, but I can tell you that I dance exactly like Ginger. Mmm, that reminds me, I was going to bake you a batch of Ginger snaps. Would you like that?"

My cell phone beeped, and I had to excuse myself to Mrs. Sherman. I switched over to the other line, and my boss Riff growled at me. "Where the hell are you, you dumb loser?"

"Just about to arrive at the drop off point in Monroe, Louisiana."

"How did you like driving that big Ford Super Duty cargo van?"

"It's not built for comfort."

"Neither are you."

I shook my head, baffled. "What does that even mean?"

"Don't question me, just get the job done. Call me when you've delivered, I have another car for you to pick up in Shreveport."

A half hour later, I pulled into the man's driveway. He walked out with a frown on his face, and was not too happy when I tried to introduce myself. "Bill Thomas," I said.

"I really don't care who you are or anything about you. I just want my vehicle."

"Well sir, here it is."

"Yes, thank you, I can see that. Not much to look at, is it."

"It has lots of shelves and drawers built into the back of it."

"Good, that's one good thing. It will hold all of my tools. OK, you better start loading them up."

"Beg your pardon?"

"My tools. I have a whole lot of them, and they're not going to just load themselves. You had better get to work."

"Sir, I mean no offense, but it is not my job to load your new van with your tools."

"They are good tools!" he shouted defensively.

"I am sure that they are, but that's irrelevant."

"To who? Certainly not to me."

"I used the wrong word. The quality of the tools does not change the fact that you are responsible for loading them yourself."

"Oh really?"

"Yes sir."

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"Well I thought I had offered you a ride to the rental car agency to get a car out of here. That's about 15 miles away. Perhaps you'd like to walk that distance."

"Um, that is entirely up to you."

"Yes it is," he said, grinning. "It surely is. And it is also my decision as to whether to accept this van and sign your paperwork. Might cause you a bit of trouble if I do not choose to do so. Right?"

"Correct."

"I'd say you had better get busy loading my tools."

And so I did, very reluctantly. I was in the right, but he could obviously make my day much more difficult than it had to be. And he seemed ready and willing to do just that.

When I finished, he looked at the job I had done. "I'm not entirely satisfied, but this will have to do."

"Anything else you need, or can you take me to Hertz now?"

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mind painting my house." I stared at him slack-jawed. He burst into laughter. "Now I'm just joshing you. Look at your face! Don't take life so seriously."

As he drove me to Hertz, I was thinking that this was one of those days when I find a sincere lack of appreciation for the customers that I serve.

LOVABLE CRAZY KIDS

On Tuesday of this week, I picked up a car in Richmond that was headed for Knoxville. Since I was in Richmond, I called my old girlfriend Karen to see if I could come visit her at her new Café there. But once again, she didn’t answer her cell phone and there was no reply to my voicemail messages. I was beginning to wonder what had happened to her. So, I went ahead and got started on my trip.

Once in Knoxville, Tennessee I found myself delayed on the delivery. I had planned to deliver at noon as determined by the customer. But at the last minute the man called and said he couldn’t be home until 4pm, so I would have to wait until then to meet him. It kind of messed up my plans for getting out of town, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I decided to make the most of my time. I found a Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robbins hybrid, where I knew I could indulge in an iced coffee and free Wifi. I got onto the Internet and plotted out a new game plan for getting out of Knoxville since the timing had changed.

A poor Black family came in and sat down. At least they seemed poor, with ragged clothes and carrying their possessions in Hefty trash bags. The two children were somewhere between 3 and 5 years old I would guess, and they were shouting for ice cream. Their Father said, “I ain’t got no money to get you no ice cream, now hush.” The Mother walked up to the counter and asked for four cups of ice water, and the cashier had a patronizing attitude as she served them up.

Kids will be kids, and these particular children were full of beans. They ran around the place in circles, yelling and whooping it up. I have noticed this as a phenomenon all over America, that kids run around out of control screaming and the parents say nothing. This is not isolated to any particular section of society, I’ve seen Whites and Blacks and Hispanics and Asians, rich and poor. The thing of it is, when I was a kid I would not have even considered behaving like this in a public place. And if I had, my Mom would have whipped my butt harshly. I certainly could run like a maniac and scream my head off, but in my own backyard or perhaps a public park.

Yet I could not begrudge these kids from just having some fun. The world is such a crazy place, and who knows what tomorrow will bring? So I say let them be wild and have fun. Besides, they could not even afford an ice cream cone, so they deserved all the wild fun and frivolity that life could afford them.

As I continued working, the children began to run into the counter and freezer doors, kicking things and banging things. Their screams began to get even more frenzied. I finished my work on the Internet, and packed up my laptop and prepared to leave. As I headed for the door, I stopped. Something inexplicable overcame me, and I walked back to the cashier.

“You want something else?” she asked, seeming somewhat perturbed.

“Yes,” I said. I lowered my voice. “I’d like to buy four ice cream cones.”

“Four? For you? You want four for you?”

“No ma’am. I’d like to treat that family there to four cones.”

“How do you know they’re a family?”

“Well, I… I guess I just assumed.”

“I see. Why you want to do that?”

I shrugged. “How much do I owe you?” She rang me up and I paid for it. “Please just wait until I leave and then ask them what flavors they want.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

As I started to walk out, the kids had reached a whole new level of loud wildness. The Father had been ignoring them up to now, but stood up and yelled, “You children need to calm down, you are too wild! Where do you think you are, Sunday church service?”

I wondered as I walked out the door what kind of church service they attended. One where people ran around in circles screaming. Pentecostal, maybe? I got into the car and started the engine, but sat and watched as the cashier gave the news of free ice cream to the Father. He ran out the front door and looked around, but did not see me sitting in the car across the street. He looked up at the sky and said something then winked broadly. I presumed he was thanking God for the treat for his family. Personally, I was just thankful that I had enough money in my pocket to put a tiny ray of sunshine into this family’s day.