Turns out Dad drove to church. Realized he forgot some paper or book. Drove home. His windows were fogged up, so he decided to pull over. Rather than walk home, which was closer, and use Mom's beloved Jaguar (which she would probably never allow him to drive anyway - remember his run in with grass/mud, etc.) or get a ride from her, he opted to walk to church.
He probably could've borrowed a phone once he arrived at bible study to call Mom to give her a head's up. Instead he abandoned his car near the entrance to his neighborhood on Frontage Road. Any neighbor could've spotted it and set this dramatic chain of events in motion. Instead it was a woman I know. A woman that I try to keep a safe distance from (more background on her later. Get excited).
My other theory is that Dad arrived at bible study and chose to pray that no one would become alarmed when they spotted his car. He must've forgotten a few key facts. 1. Personalized plates. 2. He's 78. 3. And the car's position off-roading it was bound to draw attention. Duh.
Mom had gone directly to church where she found and spoke with Dad. Then she stopped and looked at his car on the way home. Then she drove home and called me. That was a long 26 minutes. I'm thinking it could've taken half that time, but the woman has never had a speeding ticket. That would throw off her mantra (see below). It was almost as if she stopped to have a cup of coffee . . . again, I'm getting ahead of myself. Mantra - it's coming.
If I was a stress shopper, I could've done a lot of damage seeing as I was wandering somewhat aimlessly in my favorite department store, Von Maur. I half wonder if she called my sister, Marie, first to tell her what was going on while I stood staring nervously at sales racks imagining what kind of peril Dad could have met. I don't think I want to know the shape her priority-phone-call-tree took.
Coach spent the next hour and a half waiting for a tow truck with my Dad perched in the front seat of Coach's car. Coach hasn't spoken to Dad since Christmas . . . after the horrible awful. Awkward.
When I finally heard back from Mom, I told her I needed to hang up and call Ann. 'Because you don't have a cell phone, I need to let Ann know that everything is OK.' If only guilt would force Mom's hand at purchasing a cell phone. These 'why-the-hell-don't-they-get-a-cell-phone' incidents have cropped up before, so I don't know that this one will be the straw that broke the camel's back - or the straw that broke Mom's stubborn will - which is obviously stronger than a camel's back.
Coach informed me that a cop showed up at the foggy-window-car-stuck-in-the-mud scene. Someone had called it in. The caller saw a man pull over and then stumble away after exiting the car. Mom, who was emotionally charged at this point, explained Dad's stumble in a high-pitched, defensive voice. 'He was thrown from a horse a year and a half ago, and now he walks with a limp!' Coach said the cop insisted that he wasn't accusing Dad of anything. (I can't believe I found another link to share. If you aren't up on my family dynamics, give these links a read. We are a quirky bunch. Except for me. I'm totally normal. Scarred, but normal).
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| Mom won't eat onions (and lots of other food items). Dad is accustomed to eating a fairly bland diet. Whenever I make my very popular chili, I invite him to come and take a container home. I admit this coffee cup is only used for hot chocolate. I do not drink coffee either, but it isn't something I am overly proud of. I just don't like caffeine. |
It is hard to summarize Mom's incredibly ridiculous stubbornness in one post, but Mom prides herself on her mantra. She tosses these prideful statements out willy nilly as she sees fit, rarely all at once, but I am listing them here in one swoop: 'I have never even tasted beer. I don't drink coffee. I don't watch movies that aren't real. I have never sent an email. I don't drive if there is any snow out (note: we live in Chicago). I don't eat onions. I don't visit the doctor. I have never had a speeding ticket (proof that I am adopted). We don't own a cell phone. It drives the kids crazy, but we've gotten by without one for all of these years.'
It has nothing to do with being tight fisted. Hello, she drives a jag. She is just adamant that they not own or operate a cell.
In my email to my siblings, I pointed out that if Mom caves and goes the cell phone route vs the living-on-the-edge-as-a-couple-in-their-mid-to-upper-70's route, she can still make all of her other claims. No one was ever really in any grave danger for refusing to drink coffee.
Do you have loved ones that refuse to embrace technology, or major food groups, or medical intervention? Do tell.
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