Kiss My Tailpipe!

I’m not sure where this will go. But it will go, it always does.

One week ago I was in town with Mom. There’s this tiny little store run by Keith, a local jeweler and the only person I know by name at the local shops, just because he greeted us so warmly the first time we went in and because he wraps things up so beautifully and in such elegant papers and glossy ribbons. You forget for a minute that this is no where for everyone except the people that love it. He sells everything from ten dollar knick knacks to very nice custom designed jewelry. The wedding set he made for my brother is simply charming; leaves bound by black hills gold vines got his sweetheart to bite on the first proposal. And if you knew my brother, you’d chalk it up to the fancy ring too.

It’s a tourist town so gift shop items grab them at the windows and the jewelry keeps the locals coming in. But even in the summer, we’re a doorstop between a “real” tourist town and the Canadian border. You can’t even buy a milkshake and there’s no stop lights to impede your progress from the border to the real sights further on down the highway. So even a tiny store, rarely gets crowded. Everyone seems to gather at the corner mini-store/gas station at all hours though, which I’ve yet to figure out.

It did get crowded though. At first I just waited outside keeping the car in one eye and Mom in the other through the window. When we’d first arrived there had been no one but us and we visited about the beautiful decorations outside the shop that his wife had so artfully displayed. This has been the only shop to really go “all out” for the Christmas season. This was the day of Winterfest so sales were bound to pick up. When customers started coming through the door I exited. Eventually sneaking in and telling Mom I would be in the car. Even the sidewalk had people on it, which this time of year is unlikely to produce more than a couple of people on any given block at a time after three.

When I had stepped in to tell Mom I was going to the car, she was busy chatting with Keith’s assistant so I had to tap her shoulder to get her attention. Both Mom and the assistant turned to look at me, I hate that. Mom said okay, but the assistant stopped me at the door and asked if I was alright. ‘Crap!’ This is the one store on all of planet earth that I feel comfortable in. I feel more like I’m visiting a friend here who happens to sell gifts than I do Christmas shopping. I don’t think I can stand the thought of them thinking that I’m a weirdo. Besides, I taped the smile on quite firmly before coming back in the store to let Mom know I was just going to the car, it’s also my way of saying “Can you cut this short?“. But I shouldn’t appear distressed I thought to myself. I smiled bigger and explained with a carefully timed shrug, “I don’t like lots of people.” Her mouth formed a little O and she smiled as she turned back to Mom to finish their conversation.

Damn! Damn! Damn! I kicked myself all the way to the car. I got in, shut the door and started breathing that rhythm that slows everything down, if I can keep that up with my eyes closed the world starts to fade. Sigh and Junior were both in the car, but their little canine hearts are more receptive than people’s and rather than the nagging questions people ask when someone is acting like a freak, they just waited for me to come out of my retreat.

By the time Mom came to the car I was breathing normally, Sigh had his huge head hanging out the back window and Junior was busy polishing the passenger side window with his nose. He kindly announced Mom’s arrival by trying to dig through the glass to let her in, when that wasn’t working he started the full body wiggle which travels from tail to neck and back in a sort of frenzied hello. This alone would've been enough to lift my spirits. He paused long enough to run over to me and whine a bit, I think he was reminding me to unlock the door.

Mom and I sat there in the unmoving car. We were debating whether or not we could stand to watch the Christmas tree lighting from a parking place perched just above the action, rather than go straight home as planned. There were probably twenty-five people across the street gathered in the little court yard surrounded by lighted murals of the towns forefathers. A gazebo graces the manicured lawn and walkway across from a single donated garden bench and a six foot tree, as yet unlighted. We drove by on a couple of different routes and Mom conversed with someone “in the know” who wielded a cell phone at the ready. It seems Mrs. Claus had a bit of a wardrobe issue this year, so Santa’s arrival via fire truck would be delayed. By then fifty people had arrived.

We decided to park it and we strategically positioned ourselves just so. Because we and the action were both parked on the right side of the road, we had to look through the back window to see the tree and gazebo. But by the time seventy-five people had gotten there we were happy with our spot and view, all was well in our little world.

We were having a wonderful time. The gazebo eventually filled up with twelve winter clad people of all ages, and we made Sigh pull his head in so we could see while we listened to the carolers sing as Santa arrived and a small procession made itself to the little tree. Little ground candle lanterns were lit along the walk way and children lined up to sit in Santa’s lap. Oh, did I mention the tree was lit? If we hadn’t been looking right at it we wouldn’t even have noticed. From our distance, it looked as if the lights were hanging in mid air, just part of a display for Santa’s bench. A passerby would’ve thought the display small so that the rented Santa could disassemble his little array and carry it off to his next gig. But we know that someday that tree will loom large and so too will the orchard sales again. We also knew that Santa was the fire chief, police chief, local minister or principle. But we knew he wasn’t the mayor, because he was going to give a speech at some point.

Eventually the firemen that had arrived with Santa brought out a rolling ladder and all the children piled on top of two fire trucks. With fully garbed firemen standing precariously, albeit gracefully from every edge, off they went. No sirens but lots of lights took them on a ten minute ride that will probably last a lifetime. While waiting for the fire trucks laden with children to return we felt so blessed as not thirty feet from the car they started the two-handled saw race. With just enough observers that only one layer of people stood between us and the action, most of the time we could see everything. Two evenly matched men kicked it off. One on each end of the blade sawed through a big log as twenty people cheered them on. Then a man and woman stepped up, they actually put in a better time than the first team and he beamed nearly brighter than the tree as he hugged her and planted a big kiss on her cheek. Finally, we watched as a boy about ten joined his father and the two labored for long minutes. But he didn’t give up and the crowd rewarded his successful efforts with lots of cheers and great pats on his little back. Gotta admit, dad looked pooped though.

We chatted about what a great Christmas this would be and I had even commented that the world would maybe get better instead of worse for a while. We have so much to be thankful for this season with her heart getting stronger and my nephew in Missouri offering up another grandchild to the celebrations. We were sitting there marveling that we lived in a place where even I could see through to the action. A place where Christmas still means more in community than in profits and while the gifts here are often handmade and usually capped with twenty dollar limits they are given in remembrance of a special birth and not for “Holiday” value. People say Merry Christmas and God bless you. I wouldn’t refer to it as a Christian community, but certainly a conservative community. Even our new agers prefer things quiet and we all respect each other as far as I can tell. People actually wear the cap you crocheted and don’t replace that warm jacket until its old, not by style, but because there’s a hole that can’t be repaired. It seems odd now that that conversation proceeded what followed.

Eventually Mom had to go to the bathroom and we decided the mayor wouldn’t be using a microphone if they hadn’t used one when they lit the tree. Seventy five people on a windless night hardly justifies such a fuss after all. So we decided to go home.

The problem was, when we’d arrived we were the only parked car on our side of the street. Now there were three parked cars. Most of the folk had walked from nearby homes. But now there were a total of three cars. One little white car parked behind us and one blue van parked right in front of us. We did not know the owner of either car.

The van was the last to arrive and he had tucked himself in quite securely to avoid the yellow curb to the corner. At the time we thought nothing of it. But suddenly it was a problem. We worked for a full five minutes to get out. At a stop turning the wheel of the jeep is very hard. So Mom was exerting herself quite a bit but she assured me it was not too much. Once I got out so I could give her a wave back toward the little white car to back up right to the bumper. The worst part, the awful part, was that shortly after we started trying to pull out, the driver of the van arrived to rustle in his car. Mom insisted later that the reason he had “issues” was probably because his wife had insisted he move his van a bit. He watched us the whole time, getting in and out of his van, leaving the door open. At the time I actually thought he was kind of funny, trying to look as if he was rummaging around for something, but never actually moving anything only watching us. Mom stopped abruptly and because we were on a hill, which caused the big jeep to lurch a bit each time she stopped going backwards, she wanted to make sure she hadn’t bumped the car behind us. She hadn’t but now we had plenty of room in front of us to pull out. As she walked back to the driver’s seat he confronted her.

Now all of this time we never asked for help, and never would have as long as it was so obviously would have been appreciated. We never complained or gesticulated. Mom is infinitely patient and I do not like attention. If it had taken us an hour we would not have asked for help. The entire celebration was taking place on one business sized lot of land. If the owner wanted to spare us any embarrassment, it was his to spare. But he didn’t, or perhaps he couldn’t. You could almost feel his build up toward frustration, but at what, I don't know. I’ll never understand that mind set. When I say he confronted her, I mean just that. He approached with his chest puffed out and his arms waving. “Lady, if you can’t get out of there you shouldn’t be driving.” Mom didn't push back, but she replied only that it was difficult to turn the wheel sharp when at a stop, as if conceding it was all her fault. She never pointed out that he had an entire street to park on and he didn't have to get quite that close, if only because it's just rude. Nearly every trip to town means at least one parallel park, it's not as if this is a new experience for her. I'm guessing he wasn't quite intelligent enough to pick up that seemingly obvious fact. The funny thing is the only reason Mom was driving was because I don't like parallel parking during business hours, so after we left the gift shop, I asked her to take over, thinking we might need to parallel park in traffic, of course we didn't.

For any one at issue with two broads driving a four wheel drive to town, take note. At this moment if you should get a hankerin’ to come a visitin’ us all ;) and you happen to NOT have four wheel drive, you’ll be hiking a half block uphill while your gas savin’ car sits waiting at the bottom of the driveway. Or you could always opt for a “Cory tow”. That’s my brother coming down from his place in the hills to push, pull or tow your determined butt back to reality. I’m not sure why, but some people seem determined to try this method first time out.

Now I’d seen the space, I’d been out of the car, it was tight and while you can see a one foot clearance in front of a van, you can’t in a jeep limited. But for me, none of that is really the issue. Perhaps we are a couple of old broads who should never be left to parallel park again. Although this is the first time I recall this happening and with 60 years of driving experience between us. Never mind. The issue for me was that it was easier for him to watch her struggle for five minutes. It was easier for him to get in and out of his van three or four times and finally talk above chatter so everyone could hear as he humiliated her, than to move his van forward a foot and be done with it. Of course she could drive out of it now, she had nearly hit the car behind her. When we did pull out, there wasn’t six inches between the corner of our car and his, which for me is too close.

I was devastated, I’m still devastated. I haven’t left the house since. I haven’t checked an email, read a blog, I canceled two appointments and doubt I’ll be rescheduling. I’m so humiliated. Everyone saw, and at a Christmas celebration. Its just that if someone is going to humiliate someone does it really have to be at a Christmas gathering?

Mom actually asked him to calm down at one point because she was recovering from heart surgery. “Well!” he bellowed. “Then, like I said, you shouldn’t be driving!” To which I wanted to reply, ‘The doctor said she’s fine to drive, Mr. How Can I Humiliate You Today.” But this coward acted like a coward and sat silently in the car holding the scruff of my dogs neck with my head down most of the time. Never to be out done, Mom ended the previous encounter by looking the man in the eyes and saying, as only a grandmother with conviction can really get right, "Shame on you." At which point, said man lowered his head, turned around and walked off. :)

I know I’ve over reacted. I know I’m being unreasonable. I know, I know, I know. But I just can’t seem to kick it back in this time. But this is sort of my kick-in, I hope. After I post this I’m going to check my email. I’m going to listen to Christmas music. I’m not going to loose another nights sleep with this man’s voice booming in my head. Mom doesn’t understand my obsession with it, she was over it before we had turned onto the highway. I couldn’t sleep for two nights, didn’t even leave the room for days. Why? I don’t know. This, I don’t know. Every time I even think about going here or there, I see him approaching with a puffed out chest and exaggerated features. He couldn't have possibly looked that frightening to anyone else. Right?

I know the why of the overall, the psychiatric why of the big picture. But, for the life of me, I can’t figure out the why of this little, insignificant event.

Now soon I will blog about the weather. How creative is that? We have a pile of snow though, Sigh is simply beside himself and the camera beckons.

But for now, just this rant.