My Homage to Seatwarmers

Gotta love those butt warmers in my car. It is really, really cold in NJ thanks to the arctic cold front. Nathan and Justine escaped back to San Francisco just in time. (So sad.) Those warmers made it a little easier for me to have the energy to get Adella to the car and swim class this morning even though we were running late. (It took a bit to get her to wake up for class.)

But it was worth it going to class. When the lifeguard brought out the toys, Adella became very animated and immediately began kicking her legs and moving her arms to get to the side of the pool for the the toys. It was the first time I had ever seen her initiate such an action. (And we were a ways away from the edge of the pool.) Whether it was a Pavlov response to the toys or a conscious action in which she knew that she could reach the toys if she just moved her legs and arms, it was a delight for her grandmother. She's still not swimming exactly, but she understands the actions of swimming and that the goal is to move from point A to point B.

But back to the point of the story. With only three classes left, Grandma thought that she was becoming more efficient. Change into swimsuits at home. Have the same bag stocked with ample supplies of diapers, both swimmers and regular, a comb, and shampoo ready to go at a moment's notice. Boxes of apple juice in the car for an incentive to leave the YMCA after the class.

Grandma also thought she had improved the after class dressing of herself and Adella after class. Today, she left Adella in the shower (they have these very nice family small changing rooms--shower, toilet, bench, changing table and a drain in the middle of the floor) while I got out and started getting dressed. I thought, how efficient. Rather than having us both naked as usual at the same time, I will get dressed first, then get her out of the shower and dress her next, thus saving the constant battle of her wanting to leave our changing room before I am completely dressed. Started pulling out my clothes. I had remembered my bra, a frequently forgotten item. Hooray. Pulled out my garments, separated the two pieces. Put on my top. Went for my bottoms. Discovered I had brought two tops, no bottoms.

So Grandma went commando in this arctic cold. Gotta love those seat warmers that warm an old lady's butt when she has one less layer of clothing.

Hooray for butt warmers.

No More Strangers in Suburbia

 

A Friday evening a few months ago, I was off to Wendy's to pick up a food order for the extended family. (Chrissy, Christian, Adella, and Dad.) As I was in line at the drive through, a woman knocked on my car window and asked how to get to the Hilton. She was on foot and had come to Wendy's for a cup of coffee, she said. I told her that I would give her a ride there. She refused, not wanting to put me out, so I gave her directions. Then I offered to drive her there again. She refused once more.

I got my food and then was winding back towards home on the road through the business parks parallel to Route 10. As I was driving, I saw the woman walking. I thought, "She is quite a ways from the Hilton and I am not sure she is really going to continue the right direction to get there. I should give her a ride."

But then I thought, "I already offered and she said no."

I drove passed her.

Then I thought of the conference talk by Sister Jean Stevens when she picked up the boy walking by the side of the road. Her simple act of kindness, one she had felt inspired to render, changed both her life and the boy's. I felt compelled to pick up this woman. How could I not stop.

So I flipped a U-turn (probably illegal) and drove back to where she was. I pulled up next to her and said, "I really feel like I should give you a ride."

My car was a mess. Embarrassed, I threw the papers on the passenger seat in the back and welcomed her into my car, apologizing for the chaos. She was a delightful, god-fearing woman. She talked about how things happened were for a reason. That perhaps we were meant to meet. Then she talked a bit about her family--she lived in Elizabeth with her husband and had a daughter down South with children who she visited frequently. I told her a bit about my family and my adorable grandchildren. I made a few wrong turns trying to find the correct back entrance to the Hilton, so the ride took a little longer than one would expect. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation and was almost sad to drop her off.

As we were approaching the hotel, I asked her why she was at the Hilton in Parsippany if she lived only an hour away in Elizabeth. She told me she was attending a conference at the Hilton and rather than staying at the hotel each night, she had driven up. I surmised she had walked to the Wendy's for dinner because she had not wanted to pay the prices at the hotel for her meal. (Or maybe she just really, really liked Wendy's coffee and had not realized that on foot it was not really next door to the Hilton. She was in suburbia.)

"What kind of conference?" I asked.

"NAACP," she replied.

And it suddenly occurred to me that she was African American. Of course, I must have noticed, but it had never entered into my calculation the first, second time or final time I offered her a ride. I was surprised to consider that for a moment I had been colorblind. And I hoped that I had provided her a story to share at her conference, which was undoubtedly focused on race. A story about a white suburban woman offering a black stranger a ride in suburbia.