Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Christmas Parable #1
Note: This was written a few weeks ago as a comment/response to another blogger who commented about a son's untimely fender bender around Christmas. As I have been so woefully unprolific lately I offer it as a holiday rememberance - albeit an embarrasing one.
My senior year in high school - I was known to be a fairly literate person - in fact, in the day before e-mail and blogs, I had a mass distribution letter to several friends et al which chronicled everything I did and my loves and wants. People at school would always ask for my "letter" and they would always try to figure out if I was talking about them (again sort of talking in blogger code). It got wildly popular. For Christmas gifts, I would commonly leave interesting paperback books gifts to my "distribution" (which generally consisted of girls I was interested in - and, as with the letter, leave it on their suburban doorsteps in the middle of the night. On one such patrol, but this time at dusk, I left the book, which I think at this time was "I'm Ok, if you're Ok" on one gal's doorstep and I later drove by to see if she picked it up. Only to find myself slammed into a parked car on the street directly across from her house.
And this was Christmas Eve.
I had to go in and apologize prophetically to these people sitting down to a nice Xmas Eve dinner and somehow explain that I just ran into their car because I was looking at a doorstep across the street instead of the road. And then I had to call my Dad to get the car towed and.... well you know. The horror of it all.
The O'Henry twist to the story is that what I wanted for Christmas was a cassette tape deck for the CAR. And that is what I received the next day - for a vehicle that would be in the shop for the next few weeks. If only I asked for hair.
The moral to the story is - "it will get better - it was an accident". There was nothing worse than staring in my father's eyes and trying to enjoy Christmas Eve in this light at 17. The lowest. But I will happily be at his house this year some 30 years later.