LETTING MY CAT OUT OF ITS BAG

There is a dent on the passenger side of my car and I’m not sure exactly when or how it happened.  Once I noticed it though, I felt obliged to do something about it. I don’t make decisions without researching and weighing the decision consequences. So I decided to let the cat out of the bag and do my research.

When my friend Wendy called me the following day, I told her about the dent. “Fix it and don’t tell your children about it,” she advised. “They will think you’re too old to drive. I’ll come with you to my repair shop if you want me to. David there has a magic touch!”

Hiking with my walking group on Lady Bird’s Lake Sunday morning, I sought Herb’s advice. “Whatever you do, Mahassen,” he said, “don’t submit an insurance claim. When I did after my latest car accident, they refused to renew my insurance.”

 But since Paula and her husband were taking me to lunch on Wednesday to celebrate my birthday, I waited for their take on the matter.”I didn’t tell you this,” Paula said, “but a few months ago, as I was backing out of the garage, my right rear-view mirror banged against the garage door and we had to replace it. Let’s look at the dent.”

So after lunch, I took Paula and her husband to my car for dent-assessment.  “Not noticeable! Right honey?” Paula asked her husband. He looked at the dent, then looked at his wife and didn’t say a word. I read “Are you crazy!” on his face. So I waited for further evaluation.

In December, my car was due for service. As my service manager was handing me the car key I asked him if I should fix the dent. “These small scratches?” he said. “Don’t worry about them.” I was not sure what scratches he meant since we were standing on the driver’s side of the car. But I decided not to worry about a dent that is unnoticeable to a car service manager.

That’s until a trucker waited for me in the parking lot of Bed, Bath & Beyond.

“I can fix this dent on the side of your car,” he said.

“No, thanks,” I said and continued to place my purchases into the car trunk.

He handed me his business card. “I’m heading now to my body shop. I have in my truck the tools to fix the dent and to paint it the exact same silver color of your car. It’ll be as good as new.”

I sighed. “It is old.” Then I tried to subtract 2006 from 2019.

The trucker didn’t budge. “I’ll charge you five hundred dollars, that’s less than half the price of fixing this dent, and I will do it right here in this parking lot,” he said.

“No, three hundred,” I said, to politely get rid of him.

“Okay. Move your car under the tree and I’ll bring my truck next to it.”

He seemed desperate for money and I didn’t have cash on me. I moved the car but stood far away from him, holding the car key and cell phone tightly inside my right pocket, and my left arm pressing on my handbag--hanging on my left shoulder.

Forty-five minutes later, the dent was still detectable and the silver paint on the dent was far from the heavenly color of the car. Near tears, I opened my handbag and started to write a check for the three hundred dollars. But the trucker jumped inside his truck and drove away.

A factual cat release story!

MY CAMEL & HIS SADDLE

MY CAMEL & HIS SADDLE

After two-day flights from Egypt, to Frankfurt, to Austin, I slumped over the handle of my luggage cart and let it drag me to the customs inspection room. Two inspectors were busy with a room full of travelers coming from Egypt. As soon as I found a space on one of the benches, I dropped in it and listened to the “interrogations”.

The inspectors were searching for smuggled gold, currency, drugs, meat, fruit, seeds, and pita bread. The strategy was to ask the travelers if they carried any of the items, then searched their suitcases to verify. None was proved guilty.

Finally, my name was called. I felt my heart race! I dragged my cart and my wobbly limbs toward the inspector. He asked me to lay my luggage on the counter between us and to open the suitcases. I declared less than the ten thousand dollars allowed by law, and souvenirs for my children and grandchildren.  So he started the verification. He took my hung clothes out of a suitcase, dug his hands in its pockets, and pulled out their contents. Then he emptied a clear plastic bag over the counter, exposing my dirty underwear.

My blood boiled.

A second suitcase had in its middle something big with hard edges, wrapped in layers of paper and plastic.

“What is this?” the inspector asked.

“A camel saddle,” I said.

“What? A camel saddle you say?”

“Yes of course. I need it for my camel. I am an Arab. Can’t live without my camel.”

The inspector was baffled. That brought a triumphant smile to my face.

“Just kidding,” I said like a wicked child. “It is a folding wooden stool similar to what is used when riding a camel.”

He did not touch it! He returned my belongings to their hangers, pockets, and bags; closed my luggage; and placed it on the cart.

“Where is the exit,” I asked calmly.

“There, Ma’am” he pointed to the exit, a shy smile on his face.

GOD’S WISDOM AS I UNDERSTAND IT

Bored out of my wits this past Saturday, I went to the kitchen, turned the TV on to channel 18, and started to look for something to cook or clean. The black & white program caught my attention—and held it!

A handsome young man played a piano and sang songs he wrote, both words and music, to a room full of a young audience. The extremely witty and satirical songs referenced the political and social tribulations of the world in the sixties and seventies. I realized that all of those tribulations are still going strong and expanding today.

As the audience cheered, I hurried to scribble the singer’s name: Tom Lehrer.

I decided to research Mr. Lehrer’s biography the next day.

The following morning was time to zoom with my “Walking Group”, no longer walking together due to the corona virus pandemic, but zooming instead to comfort and support each other. And since I didn’t have time to conduct my research about Mr. Lehrer, I asked the group about him.

One volunteered to let me know that my information is out-of-date. “He is dead,” she said.

I lived in and out of the States in the sixties and seventies. Did he live and die while I was living abroad?

Mr. Lehrer IS ninety, and is still alive and well. I felt a surge in my faith in God and his ultimate wisdom. His best creation twinkles longer. Call it the law of natural selection, if you want. Sure, some outstanding humans die young to offset the rule. Exceptions are God’s mercy on us, talented and not, to keep us blissfully hopeful for a long life--until we die!

"Coronavirus” floated in the air. The lips saying the word were big and small; young, mature, and drooping old. Copies of the word in every accent and intonation filled the air in my bedroom – from floor, to ceiling, to walls.

My head shifted on the pillow and I turned to sleep on my right side. A minute later I switched to my left side. My hands pulled the bedspread over my head. Then my legs pushed it off to my feet. My body now alternated from too warm to too cold!

Suddenly, a big, red face with pursed lips appeared. I swallowed hard.

“Coronavirus is a hoax, fake news, folks. It is Chinese.” the pursed lips announced.

 I relaxed. Turned to lie on my back.

“Who said the Coronavirus is a fraud, guys?” The pursed lips said. “Few cases in our country, that’s all. May be fifteen. We are taking every measure to protect our citizens.”

I shivered—pulled the bedspread up to my shoulder. Still cold, I pulled it over my face.

“Don’t pay your taxes on April 15, much later, three months later,” the pursed lips announced!

My body switched from cold, to warm, to cold, to warm.

Then the pursed lips started to produce a series of statements that seemed to adapt to some sort of audience reactions. “It is okay, guys--we will give incentive checks-- to stimulate the economy—to those who need them—in accordance to their income---.”

In a daze, I jumped out of my bed, dragging part of the bedspread with me to the floor. “A check! A check!” I mumbled. “I’ll cash it and pay my taxes.”