DANGER: Keep Off the Roads

DANGER:

KEEP OFF THE ROADS

 

Stay off the roads unless it is absolutely necessary brings to mind what hazards––icy roads? Poor visibility? Huge mounds of snow?  The word danger triggers what? Be extra careful? Mis-hap to anyone but me? Risk of sliding into the ditch? A fender bender or maybe even a write-off? What about death? An extreme result you might think. It’s this latter impression and much, much more that directs and at times overwhelms Joseph, a character in my novel, Baggage burdens.

Joseph’s parents died in a vehicle accident because of poor weather when Joseph was very young. Compared to the impact on Joseph, his parents’ suffering was short lived, limited. Joseph had no parents for more than fourteen years. He was blessed in that he had loving grandparents who cared for him. Joseph’s loss includes having no chance for a brother or sister to connect with. While Joseph became close with his grandparents that also meant that he adopted their old-school values, something that put him out of step with people his age. It also caused friction and loneliness for Joseph because he didn’t fit in with his rebellious grandparents’ children. Of all the negative effects feeling lonely and being seen as an oddball left him insecure. It left him desiring brothers and sisters for his children, a source of stress for his wife, but it also made him committed to preventing anything from happening that would leave his children without parents, the worst danger that could be fall his children.

Uneasy silence hangs on Joseph’s shoulders as he looks at the tall bull rushes standing guard over the water’s edge at the bottom of the short hill. Finally, pointing to a few white fluffy hats on Canadian thistles, Joseph says, “Lucky you. If we were on my land, I’d have pulled you out by now.”

 ‘Nervous,’ Jill surmises. ‘What’s he building up to?’

Silence returns as Joseph stares down at his runners. Then he looks directly at Jill. In a very serious tone he asks, “Do you think I’m weird?”

“Different, not weird.”  Her answer takes only a second.

He quits fidgeting. “I am weird. At least that’s what my uncles say.”

Joseph’s confession is a little louder than a whisper, almost as if he doesn’t want to let her in on embarrassing part of his life. Once again he looks down at his feet.   

Seeing Joseph’s confusion Jill adds. “Where shall our new baby sleep? If it’s in our room, do you want to wake up every time the baby cries? Do you want Daniel to be in that situation?” Jill studies Joseph’s reaction, knowing the question he’s struggling to blurt out.

“You’re right,” begins Joseph slowly. “It means an addition to the house and that itself isn’t a problem.” 

Jill watches him. “The real problem is . . ..”  He stops and looks carefully at Jill. Her expression tells him she’s ready. In the past Jill always looked down or away when he tried to discuss family size. Today she looks directly at him.

“How many rooms do we add?

Jill had debated her answer several times. Shortly after they were married Joseph indicated he’d love to have a large family. Jill hadn’t wanted to commit to any family size. After Daniel’s birth, she heard that some women in church envied her first problem-free birth. They predicted it was a good sign, a sign of a large family to come. 

The possibility scared Jill. She felt inadequate. Many of those women had five or six children. ‘Can I handle such a large family? Do I want to? Daniel is such a joy, but five more children?’

“What are you doing?” Jill asks, as she sees Joseph heading for the exit ramp.

Without taking his eyes off the single set of tracks on the snow-covered road Joseph answers. “If I’m not mistaken, there’s a motel up ahead. If they have a vacancy sign, I think we should take a room.”

“You sure?” She turns the radio down to hear Joseph’s reply clearly.

A soft defeated yeah, escapes Joseph’s lips. As they plow ahead at a decreasing speed, Jill notices Joseph’s right hand race from the wheel to his eye. A quick wipe. His hand regrips the wheel.

Jill focuses on Joseph’s face instead of the snow-road ahead. “Joseph, what’s wrong?”

Joseph sucks in a long deep breath before he says, still in a very low voice, “that radio warning––don’t drive unless you have to.” He falls silent again. His hand sweeps away another tear creeping out of the corner of his eye. “That is the warning my grandmother told me was issued when my parents tried to drive home from Grand Prairie. They didn’t heed the warning. They died.” He takes another deep breath and adds, “I don’t want that for our children.”

 haiku capsule:

auto accident

shapes husband’s future values

far reaching impacts

Next blog:

Ask for Forgiveness?

Tell It to the Judge

Tell It to the Judge

Ever had to appear before a judge? “Your Honor.” Lawyers, young and old, bow and beseech the one on the bench. When you, unschooled in the court’s way, represent yourself, you can't help feel that you are at the mercy of the court. Is the judge’s ear as tuned in to your words as the trained civil servant who reports that you have broken the law? The assumption, innocent until proven guilty, doesn’t feel real. The one who is about to determine your fate looks down upon you. Expect the decision right or wrong, to be final. Challenges require courage, time and money.

The setting is intimidating. Take it from one who, when he was young, appeared in court for several parking fines. I was surprised to hear many times judges have an understanding ear, prosecutors sometimes too.

Those frightful experiences provided the background for relating Jill’s apprehension for returning to Ontario. In my novel, Baggage burdens. Jill expects to be hauled into court and found to be guilty. Even if she is innocent the prospect of appearing in court is too much for her.

As they near the park, Bill asks, “Something wrong?”

“I’m worried.”

“About going to see your family in Ontario?”

“Not the family. It’s something about going back to Oshawa,” explains Jill. “Going back feels like I’m going to be arrested, like there’s a bench warrant out for me failing to go to court. I have to face the judge, but I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

Jill glances at Bill, searching for a hint of disapproval.

“Could it be guilt for running out on your grandmother?”

“No. It feels more serious than that. At the same time, I think I don’t deserve to be hauled into court. Crazy! Isn’t it?”

“Puzzling.” He notes the tension in Jill’s voice.

Jill stops walking and faces Bill. “Let me try and explain it this way. One spring afternoon, I was driving Joseph’s truck to pick him up from the market. I stepped on the brakes and started sliding into the intersection. I decided I’d end up in the middle, so I drove right through. I didn’t think anything of it until a ticket came in the mail. The picture showed me driving. The roads were very slippery. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t driving without due care and caution. Anyway, I went to court. Have you ever gone to court?” Jill looks again at Bill.

He shakes his head.

“It’s scary. At least for me it is. I watched the judge lecture three accused people before me. Words like road safety, watch out for others, you’re not the only one on the road, accused the people before me of being immature, irresponsible. The last guy, a young guy, was even told to grow up. The judge seemed to be on mission, crucify poor drivers.”

She doesn’t tell Bill that the judge’s attacks reminded her of her father.

“Then it was my turn. I’m sure he saw me shaking like a leaf in the wind. He smiled and helped me explain why I came to court. My only defense was to describe the nature of the roads. I presented a copy of newspaper article describing the roads and weather at the time. I had no other evidence. I knew it was wrong to drive through the intersection on a red light. I deserved to be punished. In the end, he reduced the charge and the fine. The point I’m trying to make is that when I was looking up at him, I felt like a little mouse trapped. The cat was a foot away. Anyway, that’s the feeling I have about going back to Ontario. I’ve tried to figure out what I’ve done wrong.

     haiku capsule:

guilty? innocent?

fearlessly deal with the judge

intimidating

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DANGER: KEEP OFF THE ROADS