I don’t usually tell embarrassing tales about myself. Reluctantly, I tell this one because it might prevent another from experiencing a similar embarrassment. Such things do happen!
It happened last blue Monday. (Of course, I should have expected it to happen on a Monday.) The preschooler was dawdling more than usual that morning. Admonitions to hurry fell on deaf ears. Finally when I set in to dress him, it was already too late. He wasn’t ready when the car pool stopped to pick him up. Aggravated at the inconvenience, I sent the car pool on its way. “I’ll take him when he’s ready,” I said.
At last, he was dressed. I rushed him to the car. I went, dressed as I was, still in my gown, robe and house slippers. It’s just a few blocks there to the kindergarten and back, you know. Nothing even to think about. In a matter of minutes, I dropped him off at school and started home. You guessed it! It happened then!
On Brunswick Street, right in front of the Baptist Church, a few minutes after nine o’clock in the morning, I ran out of gas. Any other time, it would have been only an inconvenience, not a predicament! I was just a few blocks from home. I could have walked the short distance. I was only a block from a service station. I could have walked there. There are a number of houses along that block where I could go seeking help. But, I couldn’t get out of the car - not in a nightgown, robe and slippers!
I tried not to panic. It wasn't a dangerous situation, just a funny one. I hoped that none of the men passing by would be gentlemanly enough to stop to offer help. I thought, too, of the sick child I had left at home. She would begin to worry if I didn’t return home in a reasonable time.
I sat there for an infinity, at least five or ten minutes. I was stranded, alone, in a busy world. And, it was all of my own doing! But, being honest with myself didn’t help one little bit at that time.
From my rear view mirror, I could watch other late mothers leaving kindergarten. As they came to Cherry Street, some turned to the left of me, some turned to the right of me, but none came past me. As I sat there, I giggled. I could not think of a graceful way to get out of my predicament. I wasn’t yet ready to swallow my pride and dressed as I was, to start walking down the street.
FINALLY, a mother did leave the kindergarten and come in my direction. Not even knowing who she was, I started honking the horn and waving my arms. She passed me, but backed up when she heard the commotion.
Laughing, she said, “I knew you were in trouble when I realized you had on a robe!” Laughing with relief, I admitted she was right! She drove me home; my pride, for the most part, was still in tact. As she took me home, she confided that she had a fear of something like this happening to her. In fact, just the night before, she had stopped to change clothes because she knew her gas tank was getting low.
This day, she was on her way to a Scout meeting out of town. She laughed when she said, “If I’m late, I can always say that I stopped to do a good deed for the day!” I heartily agreed and even offered to write a note of commendation.
As I said in the beginning, I share my embarrassment to tell all those who think as I did that such a thing can never happen to them, it can. It did.
1974
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