Beech Tree News Network

A friend of a friend’s daughter, Chelsea (not her real name), lives in one of the many congested areas of New York City.  She is a teacher and travels by subway to and from work.  After one particularly busy work day, Chelsea realized she hadn’t taken time to eat all day.  She was very hungry so on the way to the subway, she stopped by one of the local markets to get something to take home.  She decided on a small rotisserie chicken, which the shop owner placed in a paper bag.  The chicken was placed in a paper bag because paper is biodegradable, therefore eco-friendly.  Eco-friendly is a big deal in New York City.

Paper bags work really well when the sun is shining.  The sun was not shining on that particular day, however.  It was raining and the wind was blowing.  Chelsea stepped back out onto the sidewalk with her purse slung over one shoulder and a work bag slung over the other.  In one hand, she held an umbrella and in the other was the small rotisserie chicken in the paper bag.

She had to move quickly in order to catch the subway in time.  It had started to rain even harder, and the wind had picked up.  As umbrellas tend to do during high winds, her umbrella blew inside out.  Chelsea had no time to stop.  She forged ahead.  Her hair was soaked, her clothes were soaked, her shoes were soaked, and more importantly, the paper bag that held the chicken was soaked.  

As paper bags tend to do when they are soaked, the bag disintegrated.  Chelsea was now running toward the subway station, carrying two bags, an inside-out umbrella and a paper-bagless rotisserie chicken.  In Kentucky, that would be a strange sight indeed.  In New York City, nobody blinked.   “Why didn’t you just throw the chicken away?” her mom asked.  “Because I was starving!” Chelsea said.  (Good answer.)

Years ago, on a Christmas Eve, our crew was counting down the minutes till we could close the shop for a much-needed Christmas break.  It was 4:45, we close at 5 o’clock. To our collective moans, we watched as a car pulled up to one of the large bay doors.  We opened the door and let the car enter.  The driver was a mom talking on her cell phone, a grandmother was in the passenger seat, and two kids were in the back seat.  

The grandmother exited the car first in order to tell us she wanted everything checked thoroughly, because she had just bought the car and didn’t want any problems during the holidays.  The mom continued to talk on the cell phone, one of the kids, a teenager, stayed in the back seat, playing on a tablet, the other kid, age 5, got out of the car.  

In some cars, the oil filter is located in a place that is difficult to access unless the car is positioned a few feet back from the opening of the pit below.  This was one of those cars.  Seeing the large open area, I made the decision to position myself in front of the car in order to keep anybody from falling into the pit.  I made the decision for two reasons: first and foremost, I love kids, and I didn’t want the five-year-old hurt, and secondly, if the five-year-old was hurt, I didn’t want to be sued and lose everything I’d worked for all my life.

I stood my ground as the five-year-old ran circles around the car.  When he got too close to the stairs that descended to the pit, I told one of the guys to put the chain across the opening.  Another guy asked me to help him with something on the computer.  I told him someone else would have to help him, I wasn’t moving.

I stood as the grandmother went into the office and returned with a box of un-opened chocolate-covered cherries that one of our friends had dropped off earlier.  I stood as she opened them and passed them around to the mom, the teen and the five-year-old.  It was just what he needed—more sugar.  I stood over that hole during the entire oil change.

When the work was done, the grandmother headed to the office to pay.  I directed the five-year-old to get back into the car, so the mom—still on the cell phone—could pull the car out.  I stood till the teen wrangled the little boy back into the car and the mom started the engine.  I stepped aside, so the mom could pull out.  We closed the door behind her.  I breathed.  I didn’t realize how long I’d been holding my breath.    

There are so many times when circumstances are beyond our control.  There are times when we have to forge ahead and times when we have to stand our ground.  I’m just glad I wasn’t the one left holding the bag of water-soaked chicken, although I was really looking forward to those chocolate-covered cherries.