Just as sixteen-year old David had been amazed at finding the Pathfinder in the garage, Barry, at twenty two, was excited about having a car on the east coast. And the fact that the car was a convertible was certainly a plus.
Though at that time, I'd paid the bills, serving as our family book keeper, moneyed decisions were out of my realm, meaning that it had been Will's decree that we'd own four cars and up our insurance premiums. This astounded everyone in our home. I mean think about it ... from no car to four cars is quite a leap! Or perhaps instead of 'leap', the appropriate word is ... evolution, because for the most part change evolves in this way:
One change leads to another, and if we take note of each small change, we come to see how, over time, life, as we know it, evolves into something else. However, if for some reason we sleep walk through a certain, stressful stage of life, meaning that we remain in denial and thus unaware of small alterations evolving into significant changes, we may feel shocked, one day, to feel rudely awakened when reality knocks on our door, beckoning us to settle down in a place too strange to believe, as though we'd been caught up in a swirling tornado, like the one that tossed Dorothy and Toto into Oz. And if upon awakening, we find the change too painful to accept, our defense system looks around, pointing fingers until anger, born of unrelieved, repressed angst, hones in on someone to blame. All in all, Resignation is not a healthy place to live.
Upon becoming aware that long term denial serves no purpose other than to prolong repressed pain, I chose to leave Oz and face reality by seeking the path of self discovery. But I'm getting about two years ahead this story, so suffice to say that at that time when Make-No-Wave was my middle name, I felt every bit as amazed by Will's unexpected decisions as our sons.
Anyway, Barry was home on vacation when Will chose to pass the keys to the convertible to our delighted eldest son, who, over the next few days, tooled around town, beaming as though he'd won the lottery. Though I was not at ease with any of my precious sons riding topless after the boys' Thanksgiving roll over, I swallowed underlying fear by considering two facts: Barry, at twenty-two had seven years of driving experience over David's inexperience at sixteen ... and in the aftermath of saddling Barry with Big Red, followed by The Beast, the size of my smile couldn't help but match his.
One evening after a boisterous family BBQ (ever watch four hungry guys plow through dinner?), Barry drove off, stopping to pick up, Carrie, a friend from high school, and the pair headed out for a night on the town. Within an hour of hugging our son and cautioning him to consider safety first while enjoying himself, I answer the landline (no cell phones in our home as of that time) and listen to Carrie imploring me to follow her directions and get to where they are STAT!
What happened? I ask, alarmed ...
While pulling up to an empty intersection and stopping at a red light, Barry, a story teller like me, had been entertaining Carrie when, out of no where and without so much as a split-second warning, flames flare out of Le Baron's hood, transforming laughter into terror as young man, switching off the engine, exclaims, OMG! Get out of the car before it blows up!
Though at that time, I'd paid the bills, serving as our family book keeper, moneyed decisions were out of my realm, meaning that it had been Will's decree that we'd own four cars and up our insurance premiums. This astounded everyone in our home. I mean think about it ... from no car to four cars is quite a leap! Or perhaps instead of 'leap', the appropriate word is ... evolution, because for the most part change evolves in this way:
One change leads to another, and if we take note of each small change, we come to see how, over time, life, as we know it, evolves into something else. However, if for some reason we sleep walk through a certain, stressful stage of life, meaning that we remain in denial and thus unaware of small alterations evolving into significant changes, we may feel shocked, one day, to feel rudely awakened when reality knocks on our door, beckoning us to settle down in a place too strange to believe, as though we'd been caught up in a swirling tornado, like the one that tossed Dorothy and Toto into Oz. And if upon awakening, we find the change too painful to accept, our defense system looks around, pointing fingers until anger, born of unrelieved, repressed angst, hones in on someone to blame. All in all, Resignation is not a healthy place to live.
Upon becoming aware that long term denial serves no purpose other than to prolong repressed pain, I chose to leave Oz and face reality by seeking the path of self discovery. But I'm getting about two years ahead this story, so suffice to say that at that time when Make-No-Wave was my middle name, I felt every bit as amazed by Will's unexpected decisions as our sons.
Anyway, Barry was home on vacation when Will chose to pass the keys to the convertible to our delighted eldest son, who, over the next few days, tooled around town, beaming as though he'd won the lottery. Though I was not at ease with any of my precious sons riding topless after the boys' Thanksgiving roll over, I swallowed underlying fear by considering two facts: Barry, at twenty-two had seven years of driving experience over David's inexperience at sixteen ... and in the aftermath of saddling Barry with Big Red, followed by The Beast, the size of my smile couldn't help but match his.
One evening after a boisterous family BBQ (ever watch four hungry guys plow through dinner?), Barry drove off, stopping to pick up, Carrie, a friend from high school, and the pair headed out for a night on the town. Within an hour of hugging our son and cautioning him to consider safety first while enjoying himself, I answer the landline (no cell phones in our home as of that time) and listen to Carrie imploring me to follow her directions and get to where they are STAT!
What happened? I ask, alarmed ...
While pulling up to an empty intersection and stopping at a red light, Barry, a story teller like me, had been entertaining Carrie when, out of no where and without so much as a split-second warning, flames flare out of Le Baron's hood, transforming laughter into terror as young man, switching off the engine, exclaims, OMG! Get out of the car before it blows up!
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