A few days ago marked the beginning of the holiday season- Thanksgiving. Around the country, people gathered together to enjoy food, fellowship, and football. Indeed, in my family I was fortunate enough to break bread with one of my uncles, his girlfriend, her daughter and her daughter's boyfriend, my sister, mom, dad, and grandfather. We spent time at the table, giving thanks for all we had, all we are, and all we can be. It wasn't until the day after Thanksgiving, however, that a series of events gave me real reason to pause and feel fortunate in this season of thanks.
On Friday I planned to meet a family friend for lunch in Portsmouth, NH on my way back to Providence. As so often happens in my family, plans evolved up until the last minute and the result of this scheduling metamorphosis was my sister, dad, and mom joining me for lunch with our family friend. I was excited. The more the merrier is an adage I try to hold dear, and when my family is involved with any social situation, the result is almost always an adventure.
My mom rode in my dad's car, and my sister rode shotgun with me. Being in an enclosed space with my sister for 55 minutes hurtling 69 miles per hour on asphalt creates a level of excitement that may not otherwise be experienced, save being on the shuttle rocketing into our planet's atmosphere. My sister, knowing me better than most in this world, managed to touch every document in my glove compartment, center console, and above the car visors, providing commentary for all items found. My blood pressure was steadily rising, as was the speedometer, and then my sister managed to find my latest parking ticket.
"Ah haaa!!!" she taunted.
I managed to contain my skyrocketing blood pressure in a healthy range, and keep my car on the road. No sooner did I explain my parking ticket did my sister look above my rear view mirror and make a face not unlike the one you may make upon running a stop sign you failed to notice until the last minute.
"Robbie, your inspection sticker is wayyyy past due!" she explained with a sick mixture of glee and anxiety.
And so it was. We soon managed to glide my vehicle ever gracefully into a parking spot near the restaurant. It was so great to see our family friend, whom I haven't seen in many months. Unfortunately, the table talk was dominated by everyone's attempts to find a garage that would inspect my car on Black Friday. It was not to be. Instead, after ending our luncheon, I drove up route one, frantically looking for an open garage before I was to meet another friend, from Saint Mike's, for lunch in Portsmouth. Upon finding a closed garage and trying to turn my car around to go back to Portsmouth, I received a call from my sister.
"Robbie, is your car even registered?" my sister asked.
I parked the car, walked to the back and looked at my license plate. Moments later, the right side of my face began to quiver, my heart pounded with force, and my right eye ball no doubt filled with blood. The registration had been expired for three months. I was driving an unregistered car without an inspection sticker. Instead of meeting my friend in Portsmouth, she graciously agreed to ride up to South Portland with me so I could get my car registered, and hopefully, inspected. Instead of enjoying each other's company over a nice craft brew and catching up on old times, we sat together, with my mom, in the waiting room of a car garage, surrounded by snow tires with the faintest scent of motor oil hovering in the air.
As this year's holiday season commences, I have much to be thankful for. Along with my health and that of my family, I give thanks for my family friend and his efforts to find me a garage that would inspect my car. He was so helpful in my time of need. I must give thanks for my sister noticing my irresponsibility. Without her provoking a near embolism in the left hemisphere of my brain, I likely would have been stopped for driving an unregistered car with an inspection sticker far past due. I am thankful for my college friend. As often in the past, she was by my side during a stressful time, and was gracious enough to accompany me to Maine to register my car and sit in a garage, catching up in a scenery dominated by the ambiance of screeching tires and the scent of gasoline. I must give thanks for my parents. They paid for my car registration and inspection and, without their financial support, I surely would have walked back to Providence.
I hope this story churns in you, my faithful reader(s?), a recollection of times when you too have given thanks for what others have done for you. During this holiday season, I'm sure we will all come to benefit from each other at one time or another.
Happy Holidays!!
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