(PERSONAL BLOG)

I’ve been trying to get my car squared away for the last two days-we are expecting a winter storm that will require the housing folks to clear the parking lot, which means you have to move your vehicle–or else they will tow it.

I finally told my son about my flat tire I got in December. He actually chuckled at the whole story…

Anyway, I got a used tire with some mileage left in it put on.  Meanwhile, my battery continues to go dead.  They say the battery is good, so my alternator may be slowly dying on me.  Can’t blame it–the car is sixteen years old and has over 200k on it.  While I was waiting for them to recharge the battery, I sat in the customer wait area.

You know how you meet someone and they just have a presence about them?  An older African American gentleman sitting in the area had that quality.

They had a TV on in the wait area with the new version of “Let”s Make a Deal” on.  Now, I don’t normally watch it, but it was already on when I walked in the room, so I sat back for a look.

The older gentleman said, “They certainly seem to enjoy themselves, don’t they?”  (speaking about the contestants)

I answered in the affirmative (yeah, I know some of that is acting, but what the hey).   We chatted a little, but it was later when the noon news came on about a devastating fire overnight that he started a conversation.  He said he used to fight fires. Forest fires.  I asked if he worked for the National Parks system, and he said that he fought fires for the CC camp.  He continued to talk as I was wondering if he meant that he worked for the “New Deal” programs.

Yes, indeed, he did.

He was paid $1 per day.  He had his clothes and his meals provided for him.

He later said that he also worked the loading docks–carrying cargo up and down the planks.  He said it was hard work (probably back-breaking, too). I was unclear on whether it, too, was a part of the CC camp or whether he meant that was what he went to after his two years of CC camp.

I mentioned a large park in Illinois that has been largely untouched by the modern world.  It is a beautiful area that is so far off the beaten path, you would not know of the traffic, pollution, etc.  It’s preserved so well it’s stunning.

And, no, I’m not naming it because I want it to stay that way.

Anyway, this park was built with New Deal labor–small cabins and a huge lodge with dining room.  Trails blazed by their labor.

The older gentleman said no, he had not worked there.

We went on to talk about gardening–something we both love.  Love to play in the dirt.  Love to see the plants spring up from the ground.  I said it was amazing that you could put a seed in the ground, and see a plant shoot up with more food for you.  He said he used to grow watermelons when his wife was still living, but she has passed, he no longer does that.  I told him that I never could grow watermelons…just didn’t have the knack for it. (same with melons and pumpkins, too…)

He said he had two wives–one he was married to for 36 years and the other 24 (?) years.  He outlived them and five children.  Wow.  I don’t know how I would handle losing one child–let alone five.  One of his children started as a police officer and is now a detective.

We chatted a little while longer about nothing in particular, and then his vehicle was ready to go.  He slowly rose from his chair with his cane and shuffled out to the registers.

He had told me during our talk that he didn’t expect the auto repair to cost so much and he was short $20.  I overheard the customer service rep tell him “don’t worry about it, we’ll take care of it.”

This was not a mom and pop service shop.  This was a major national chain, folks.  Major national chains don’t do that.  They just don’t.  I imagine the manager put in his own $20–he was a personable person who actually seem to give a crap about his customers.

Then it was my turn to check out.  My windshield wipers were worn thin, and unsafe.  I purchased new ones, planning to put them on myself–we’re supposed to be getting blasted with a winter storm with up to 8 inches of snow and the ones I had just smeared the stuff on the windshield–not safe at all.  The service rep grabbed the wipers and took off for the mechanics’ bay area.  She then came back and said she had the mechanic put them on.  What a sweet kid.

So…now I have to take back every bad thing I’ve said about chains….

Sometimes, they do bend the rules and act like human beings. (And yes, I’m not mentioning what chain it was on purpose–I don’t want the young lady to get into trouble because they charge $2 for wiper installation.)

For the circumstances, it was an enjoyable and surreal morning.

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While I’m on this, I wanted to talk about a conversation I’ve had recently with a black lady.  She said that she worked for the FW schools, and she also worked in nursing homes.

She said, “I’m not prejudiced, but black folks take care of their own.  White folks?  They just abandon their family (members).”

I told her that I didn’t think she was prejudice, because I’ve made the same observation.

Black folk in my building take care of each other.  They’ve helped me, too, when I’ve asked for it.  Even when I haven’t asked for it.  One gentleman asked about my flat tire when he saw it.  He even tried to help get it off, but the previous owner changed the rims and I can’t get them off with the lug wrench that came with the vehicle.  (I know, I know, I should get one, but with a car that is looking at perhaps another 20,000 miles, it doesn’t make much sense….) Anyway, he didn’t have the right lug wrench, either.

One white lady has been a Godsend because she has helped me out on several occasions (she even sat with me while the stupid battery was being charged the first time).  She has offered to help without expecting anything in return.  And we cry on each other’s shoulders about life as poor women.  Until one lives it, you just don’t understand how difficult the life is.  And to say that we’re poor because we just didn’t work hard enough is utter bullshit.  Nobody works harder than a cleaning woman or a ditch digger….but you don’t see them living in mansions, do you?  And my staying home for twelve years with my children was the best contribution to society I could have given –hard work and even better rewards that can’t be counted in $$.