Editor’s note: Contains biological information about human anatomy. Can’t handle it? Skip this post.
A couple weeks ago we had a Friday so filled with humor and horror and insights, it has taken me weeks to be ready to write about it.
The Friday started out fine. Buster had a medical appointment and on the way there we saw a truck with trucksticles, like this:
We had a laugh and discussion about who chooses to wear those around all the time.
Then while we waited for our turn with the Nurse Practitioner, we discussed this display.
We were glad to be able to round out our biology session with the female anatomy, but we were cackling about the chain.
As Buster said, “Worst punk rock accessory ever!”
Then as we waited for a blood draw, I was able to show Buster his first apartment:
“Not enough room,” he informed me.
Our last laugh was this sign in the restroom that had us wondering what the heck had happened to make this necessary.
That was Friday morning.
Friday late afternoon, windows thrown open to enjoy the beautiful weather, we heard the screech, squeal, and rumble that had Buds and I looking at each other knowingly, grabbing our phones, and heading out the front door, with me dialing 911 as we ran.
A sedan and an SUV attempted to occupy the same space on the road at the same time, taking a third car out with them..
No one was evidently injured, although the sedan driver was taken away in the ambulance as a precaution. Everyone’s air bags deployed, everyone exited their vehicles under their own power, and we talked to all three drivers at some point.
So many folks immediately stopped to help. There was an elementary school art teacher directing traffic until the police arrived. A nurse on her way home from work jumped out to check on folks. A fellow in a Trump/Pence 2020 t-shirt and his wife stayed for a long time to be ready to help. When things had settled down a little and I had a chance to talk to them, he said, “My dad always taught me if you see something, you stop to help.” And they were masked.
In fact, everyone was masked except the woman who was driving the SUV. She may have had a mask in her car, but she was just sitting in the camping chair we brought out, not walking around, so folks were able to stay distant from her.
Once we knew everyone was going to be okay, it was a good chance to connect with folks of all ages and types. Mr. Rogers was right, “Look for the helpers.” They really are all around us. And bless the tow truck driver that had both vehicles hauled away by 10 p.m. that night, leaving us only shards of plastic instead of a huge lawn ornament.