Maybe it’s you speaking, listen!


[Photo from Wikimedia Commons]

In my world of geriatric therapy, I would often suggest to clients that writing or journaling about a situation that was out of your control and annoying or frustrating could prove a very helpful device for letting it go, for getting it out of that circular mental over-drive. So it was that in November, 2004, with such good advice in mind, I wrote about my own frustration when someone’s helpful good intentions went awry. The scrap of paper with the details turned up today in one of those “get rid of some stuff” endeavors. I guess writing about a difficult situation is still good advice. Perhaps this was saved for this point in my life when Covid has rendered so much out of my control. This is what I wrote when I finally got on my flight to Dallas seventeen years ago.

Perhaps I can “let it go” by writing about it. After an intense drive on I-465 from my office to the airport area, my initial frustration upon discovering that my favorite off-site parking lot was full, gave way to remembering a lot I had once used. Fortunately, it was just down the same road. Ah, yes, I could see empty space.

The rain had slackened slightly. Thankfully, my trusty miniature red umbrella would cover the dash to the waiting shuttle. As I stepped out of my car, briefcase in hand for loading into the trunk, the shuttle driver appeared with a large umbrella. Great! Before I could say a word, he reached behind me and pushed my car door shut. It locked!!! with my purse, ticket, car keys, and cell phone sitting on the front seat!

Truly I have never felt so totally frustrated as earlier when I watched him drive his shuttle away with other passengers who needed to get to the airport. The next driver who came by was really ditzy and a blimp to boot. He would never have fit in that secret access!! How and why had I immediately thought of that secret latch opening to use as a last resort and not closed the trunk, especially in the rain?

Thirty-five minutes later, much of it spent getting thoroughly chilled and wet while on hold with American Trans Air, that same “gallant idiot” who had closed the door, returned and crawled in the trunk, still opened from that briefcase storage. I watched as he used the ice scraper, which I had just put in the trunk when I took my golf clubs out (Thank you dear God!), as he stretched to lift the left back door lock. He had spent his time wedging his head and shoulders through the UNLOCKED secret access to the back seat. I clapped as the door unlocked! Somehow, I made it through security, arriving at the gate, C-9, just as they were paging the last passengers. The kindly gate person, Peggy, agreed that I could grab a cookie from the nearby kiosk. Cookies always help in a crisis.

So now I am looking out of the ATA 401 flight’s window at the most amazing cotton quilt cloud cover toward the sunset of brilliant orange and pink and lavender filling the horizon. Thank you again, dearest God, for your presence in my life, for your gift of beauties untold, for the gift to be able to appreciate it, for the grace to fume, stamp my feet and remember to generously tip the tall, skinny shuttle driver who came back. May he always be so gallant, but please, may he remember to include, “Do you have everything out of your car?” before he slams the next car door shut.


Contributed by: Barbara Furlow

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2 thoughts on “On Taking Your Own Advice

  1. Workmen (& women) who know how to do things, to fix things with their hands (and bodies) Bless them! Never, ever my thing. So I especially appreciate their contributions that make our lives smoother, safer.. That goes for Maintenance here at Marquette.

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