Keep Them Safe by Liz Flaherty

Early in the week, I dropped my teacher kids and several dozen DeRozier's donuts off at school in the morning because of vehicle malfunctions.

I admit to a love for the school campus where we live--it's been a part of my life ever since the high school was built way, way back in the last century. It's changed a lot over the years. More buildings, including what former elementary principal Don Davis used to call the castle on the hill--more athletic fields, more driveways. There are enough directional arrows that I'm almost sure I break the law every time I turn into or drive off the school grounds.

On this morning when I dropped Jim and Kari off at their respective buildings, I saw my friend Judy, who's driven a bus through a few generations, and got out to give her a hug. "I'm retiring this year," she said. I'll believe her when school starts next fall and she's not sitting in the front of a bus. I remember one time when she was substituting for another driver and one of the passengers said he liked it when Judy drove because it was "such an adventure."

Kids and teachers and backpacks were everywhere on the high school part of the campus. Even in the car I could feel the "almost there" excitement of the school year coming to an end. I loved seeing them, wondering what their summer plans are, what they want to be when they grow up. 

I've cried some at that school. Lots of times when I went there and sometimes when my kids did. Every time one of them graduated. Watching Bob Bridge and Tim DuBois's boys walk the field before football games. In 2020 when the seniors, including one of our grandboys, ran the bases in their caps and gowns. 

As I drove away from the school the other day, I found myself crying again, and praying, because I am frightened beyond all reason of people with guns who place no value on human life beyond seeing how many people they can hurt at one time.

Yes, I know, guns don't kill people, which is why we give them to people...you know, so they can do it. Their rights to be "...a well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed..." do after all supersede the rights of children to reach adulthood. 

I don't know most of these kids' names, although I'm sure I know some of their parents and many of their grandparents. I don't know who's at the top of their class and who hasn't turned in any homework since kindergarten. I don't know, sitting in my car, whose language would scorch my ears and who never learned the value of please, thank you, or a dollar earned. I don't know who shops at boutiques and who combs the clearance racks and who depends on the kindness of strangers. I don't know who worries about being bullied, who bullies, and who doesn't give a damn either way. 

I don't know any of that and frankly, that morning in the school driveway and this morning as I write this, I don't care. I want them all to graduate, to run whatever bases their lives bring them, to walk the fields of whatever is their passion, and to have more adventures than their parents can bear worrying about. My prayer for them is always the same, and I cry with the fear of it not being answered.

Please, God, keep them safe.

Have a good week. Be nice to somebody. 

 

Jumper Cables and Blue Butterflies by Liz Flaherty

Friday

I haven't had a very good week. Nothing wrong, exactly, just some upheaval, a decision I didn't want to make, and a sad anniversary. We all have weeks like this, don't we? They're when we cry in the shower, forget anything's cooking until the smoke alarm goes off, and stub our toes on...nothing. The floor can be as flat as a griddle and it will still trip you up! You've read about my broken nose, but...yeah, that's how it happened. 

So, today I got my nails done. My neighbor, Bev, was in there at the same time. It was just a regular day at the Nail Studio, with Bev getting a pedicure and me getting pretty pink gel on my fingernails with a blue butterfly on my ring finger. Of course, things went awry when Bev put her sock on before Gina was ready for her to--so Gina threw the sock at her. 

It must be said here that the only reason I told this story was because Bev said to watch out because it might show up in the next column. I may have said I wouldn't do that, but I don't remember. I need to add, too, that Julie, who does my nails, has never thrown anything at me. 

Maybe saying never isn't the right thing to do here...

The point of this is that it was a good laugh on a day when I needed one in the worst way. Thank you, Gina, Julie, and Bev.

Saturday

So last night, after a delicious dinner at Club 14--try the grouper; it's great--we went to Kroger's. I needed ice cream and Duane needed yellow cheese. We discussed as we went across town whether it was Kroger or Kroger's and even though I think he's right in calling it Kroger, I still say Kroger's. Or on days when I feel slightly ridiculous, I'll sing, 🎝Let's go Krogering...🎝even though I shouldn't. Or I mumble "cut your costs at Kroger" as I push the cart into the store. I'm sure I'm not the only one who does this. Well, maybe...

Anyway, Duane waited while I went into the store. When I came out, he said, "It won't start."

My first thought was, "Don't tell me it won't start. I have ice cream here." My second was that I wished I'd bought a spoon. We've had Duane's car for ten years. We've never bought a battery for it, but I think if it was going to give up the ghost, it could have done it when I didn't have a carton of butter pecan in the cart. 

We didn't have jumper cables. We had a discussion about where they were. We still don't know--they might still be riding around in the 1995 pickup he traded on his car. Several people offered us a jump, but they didn't have jumper cables, either. Duane called our daughter, who also didn't have any, but she brought a battery charger thingy from a friend--he didn't have cables, either. 

It couldn't give the car enough juice to do more than play the radio and open the windows. (Which would have been enough when we were sitting at the Kar Hop back in the 60s, but I'm regressing today, aren't I?) We really, really needed jumper cables. And a battery.

One daughter and a couple of hundred dollars later, we had them. There was much laughing involved, and Duane and I talked on the way home about what we'd have done in our young married days if we'd had to spend a couple of hundred dollars we didn't expect. 

We'd still be sitting in Kroger's parking lot with melting ice cream bought on sale. 

We got home--much later than expected. My ice cream was pretty soft but still really good. I was reminded by the day's adventures of how grateful we are for friends, family, ice cream, and Kroger's. Of laughing at the Nail Studio, of neighbors, and of church family who will always be family despite changes. 

It was still a crummy week. But there have been pretty days. Good food. More laughing than crying. Conversations with daughters and other friends. I used the quote from a favorite song yesterday, no turning back, and reaching that place in situations hurts. Loss almost always does. But, always, before the loss came the love. I'm grateful.

I hope you have a good week. Carry jumper cables. Be nice to somebody.