Monday, 20 August 2012
Who Put the Apple on My Car?
By Jackie Harrison
Remember the song, Who Put The Overalls In Mrs. Murphy's Chowder? I want to know who put the apple on my car.
I know I am getting old but I like to adopt my mother's words who in her nineties said, "At least I still have my mind." I am excluding my absent-mindedness, however, since it has existed for as long as I can remember.
Getting lost has been one of my life-long problems. I believe it is due to my inattentiveness. My children tease me about it and I laughingly say, "Well, I can always be found."
I often visit my sister in Georgia using the same roads for each trip. Once, I was driving there with my mind wandering as it usually does when I am alone. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself driving through Denmark and Sweden, small towns in Georgia that I had never heard of before this trip.
I apologized to my sister for being late and explained my late arrival by saying, "I have been traveling all over Europe.”
Another time when I visited my sister, I walked right through the door, suitcase in hand, of her neighbor's house thinking it was my sister's house on this circular drive. I was too young then to be accused of having Alzheimer's.
My family lived in Galveston, Texas, for one year. One morning while living there, I put my children in the car and drove off to the store. It was only when I reached the store that I realized I had left my purse on the top of my car.
Almost a year later, back in Daytona Beach, Florida, I received my purse in the mail. It came from Mexico.
This is why I ignore my current "mental lapses" and refuse to blame them on my age.
In my condominium, I often go for days without seeing anyone on the elevators. The elevator usually travels straight to my eighteenth floor where I automatically get off when it stops.
One day, the elevator stopped on the seventeenth floor. I walked around the corner as usual to where my unit is located. When I reached the door and inserted the key, the lock would not turn. My arms were full of packages and I was already exhausted from a busy day. All I wanted to do was rest.
I twisted the key repeatedly, even shaking the door. I put my packages on the floor and began this routine all over again. Still no luck. Finally I gave up. I didn't know what I was going to do.
I decided I had no choice but to contact the manager. I prayed that she was home. When I reached the elevator, I happened to look up and see, Floor 17. I wanted to hide. "What if those owners had been inside?" I thought. "What if I destroyed their lock."
I hurried to my apartment and inserted the key. It turned easily. However, when I tried to remove it, I could not. Even pliers would not help. At this point, I resorted to my Scarlett O'Hara act, "Tomorrow is another day," and left it there.
I usually put my groceries in the trunk of my car. On more than one occasion, a cantaloupe has rolled out of the bag and landed out of sight in the far back of the trunk. After once leaving a cantaloupe there for a week, I have made a habit of searching the trunk carefully for rolling objects like oranges, apples and cantaloupes before I close it.
That is the reason I became disturbed recently when I was putting away my groceries and discovered I was a missing an apple. I was certain I had bought two. I began to think I had forgotten to check my trunk. I went back to my car to look. No apple!
"Perhaps I only bought one apple," I thought. I had already thrown away my grocery stub so I couldn't check. Regardless of whether an apple was missing or I forgot and bought only one, I decided the matter was not worth fretting about so I dismissed it. This was on Friday.
On Sunday morning when I went to my car to head for church, there was an apple sitting on the top of my car. To this day I have no idea who put it there or who knew it was my apple.
[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Please read instructions for submitting.]