I had to drive over to the other side of Mannheim Road around dinner time last night. Hazel was at a school dance party celebrating the completion of state testing.
Betty the Green Blazer and I were driving on a side road in a white middle-class town that I cross through between my home and the Shepkids Mom's home. It was there that I noticed something out of place.
I saw an older gentleman that could have been my uncle. He had a big bright Caucasian face wearing a plaid button down and khaki pants. He couldn't have been more of the perfect stereotype for the lesson that I was about to learn.
I was just picking up my daughter at school and getting a pizza. I was minding my own business listening to REM on Spotify. Then I see this old guy......
Here is an older gentleman that could have been an accountant, a retired ComEd guy or an old railroad guy that new my dad. He was kneeling on a small Persian rug facing the East with his arms folded across his chest.
Without hesitation my finger went to Betty's window button. The window was rolling down and I'm almost parallel with someone's Uncle Frank. My mind was quickly putting together something painful to yell. Suddenly sitting in Betty's passenger seat is my Oldman. He's wearing a plaid button down and khaki pants.
"You got to be shitting me Moose!"
anger pulsing across my father's face...
"That old fucker is praying.... HE'S PRAYING! Roll the god damn window up and pick up my fucking Granddaughter you stupid son of a bitch.....!"
Before I knew it the window was up as fast as it went down and my dad was back in heaven enjoying eternal love and peace. I was left there at the corner of Kenman and Lincoln pondering the mysteries of my faith.
What good would it have done to yell at an old guy saying his evening prayers? It would have done more harm, and I would have looked like an asshole. I'm trying to get through these last twenty-seven years of life without looking like an asshole.
Situations like this are the lessons, the mysteries that can either make us better or make us worse. Uncle Frank from Brookfield was saying his prayers when a guy in a green blazer was driving by.
I might have done the right thing yesterday, but I still have a feeling that my visa will be delayed when I'm standing at Heaven's Gate.
Saint Peter will be standing there with Jesus on the Heaven's Gate telephone.
"Hey JC... the Shepley kid is standing here. What do you want me to do?"
Peter turns his back to me and I can't hear the rest of their conversation. After several minutes the old Saint hangs up the phone and says to me, "The Boss wants to talk with you before I can let you in."
Standing on the other side of the fence is my Oldman. He is shaking his head at me...
"Hey Moose! All these years that I've been up here, I have never had to wait for my loved ones to get in! Great job son, really proud of you!"
Looks like sarcasm is alive and well in heaven?!?!
I gotta think my Ma has an in with Virgin Mary and I'll get out of all this red tape holding me up. If I wait a few minutes, my mom will show up with Jesus' Ma and I'll be able to start my eternal rest.
When I get done Chalking here, I'm going to say my daily prayers. They will center around the Parable of the Green Blazer driving to the middle school on a Friday evening. What will that Parable teach us?
Heaven might be one forgiveness away, but the less baggage you bring.... the easier it is to get in and also, don’t be a Jagoff in life.!
There you go Chalkheads. That is the latest adventure of a single divorced dad trying to make a living and raise good kids.
Next time I see Uncle Frank during his evening prayers, I'm going to roll Betty's window down and yell....
"Put in a good word for me Uncle Frank!"
The Lions are roaring from across the river and the coffee pot is percolating. I'm going to go say my morning prayers, drink my coffee and listen to my neighbor’s early morning arguments....
....and the birds too!
Today is going to be a beautiful day to put the smile on the sun.
Be astonished and don't be a jagoff!
