Loretta Humble/Living Well
I began this column to share my efforts to stay mentally sharp. Last week I told you I had changed my focus just a little. I’m still going to do everything I know to do to keep my brain functioning as well as possible, but I’m not going to make that my only measurement of success. I am also going to try to remember the importance of fully living and appreciating every day, whether I remember everything or not.
I sure am glad I made that clear.
This week I forgot a couple of things.
It started when I forgot to put gas in the car. I remembered it when it quit in the driveway of Eastern Hills Church of Christ in Athens. Shelly and I had stopped by there on our way to a Master Gardener program and we just barely had time to get there. That’s OK, I said, I have Roadside Assistance from AARP. (You know I’ve been bragging about AARP, but this week I’m not: They said they could be there in two and a half hours.) So we begged a ride from a very gracious lady named Pat McNew. She took us to our meeting at the Senior Center near the Fairgrounds in her beautiful new car she just got. (I wrote down her name, thinking I might find an excuse to thank her in this column. Little did I know.) We nearly made it on time, which is how Shelly and I usually arrive—nearly on time.
After the program, fellow intern Elizabeth Murphy agreed to take us for gas and back to the car. We went to Walmart for the gas can. That was a mistake. What looked like a short line wasn’t short time wise. A young couple had a coupon for a pack of Marlboro cigarettes on their phone, and the checker and then the manager couldn’t seem to make it work. We finally gave up and ran to the other end of the store to the self-checkout, which we should have done in the first place. Elizabeth is being very patient through all of this. Then we grab our gas and head to the car. We jump out, I dig for my keys,–and they are gone. I mean, really gone. Usually if I dig hard enough I find them. But they are gone. There is another set of keys, but they are in Lampasas, in Carl’s pocket. There is nothing to do but leave the car in the middle of the Church of Christ driveway, write a note on the back of a for sale sign, put it on the windshield, and hope it didn’t somehow get flipped over.
Elizabeth lives in Payne Springs, so we were out of the way for her, but not too bad. She brought us home and didn’t even grumble about it, in fact she kept saying encouraging things trying to make us feel better.
By the time we got home and caught our breaths we had a pretty good idea I had dropped my keys in Pat McNew’s car. We couldn’t reach her that night, but the next morning we did, and sure enough she had them. She lives on the other side of Athens and insisted rather than giving directions, she would bring the keys to the church office. She said something to the effect that when you have a wonderful new car you should use it to do helpful things. I’m paraphrasing, but that was the sentiment.
That was nearly the end of the story, except we had trouble getting our rides worked out to get to the car. I called and got no answer and thought the church office was closed. Luckily it wasn’t, but in the rush to get there, I left my new little gas can on my front porch. It just cost $8, but I really didn’t want to buy a new one, so we checked a nearby thrift shop, and a helpful guy in the back thought he could dig up something that would work but couldn’t, then we went to a service station, and theirs cost $12, and just on principle we thought we’d try one more place—the dollar store. Theirs were $12 too, but at least it was bigger. All that was silly, but it just made me mad to pay $20 for gas cans when we have them all over the place here at the house.
Of course neither of these ladies would dream of taking anything for the gas and trouble we put them through, but I did find a way to repay Elizabeth—we are going to Glenda Mae’s Daylily Farm and I am going to buy her a couple of big old clumps of those gorgeous daylilies. I knew that wouldn’t work on Pat because I had already tried to get her interested in Master Gardeners, but I offered anyhow. So all I know to do for Pat is to probably embarrass her here by telling you what a great lady she is, and also that everybody I met at her church was just super kind and helpful.
So, it looks like my memory has not improved all that much yet. But the great thing is, I didn’t get upset about it. Well, not enough you’d notice.
Shelly said, “We don’t have to tell anybody about this.”
I said, “Are you kidding? I’m going to tell everybody. It’s too good a story to keep to myself.”