To Make a Short Story Long.

What are you good at?

I’m really good at making everyday events, sublime.

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“American Psychiatric Association had a crazy desire to label all life a mental disorder.”
― Jon Ronson, The Psychopath Test

I cannot imagine going through life, inheriting boatloads of liquid assets, making a lot of money, and then giving extraordinarily little of it back to society. I had the naïve notion that giving back is what we do. To become a CEO or a high ranking official, certainly having psychopathic tendencies seems to be a harbinger of caustic success.

This thought crossed my mind as I was driving out to the banal suburbs to drop off a charity donation. It was a large bag of games and books that we were donating to a local school. That is what we do as a family as we try to give back to society. I was not particularly familiar with the donation as it was mostly my wife’s work. I told her, I would make the drive and drop it off at the desired location.

How Life Should Work

To give proper context to the story, I was in a bit of a hurry as I had movie tickets for two o’clock that afternoon. I was supposed to see the movie earlier this week however we had a family situation that did not allow me to see the show. I know in a book or movie the dog is not supposed to die, but our dog passed away on Tuesday. I have not been quite right since. I sent a brief note to the owner of the movie theater. He said your ticket for Sunday is good. It was a show I wanted to see.

The Magic Of GPS

I do not like going out to the suburbs in Clark County. In this mysterious place, 14th St. intersects with 18th St. and 105th St. intersects with 105th St. None of it makes a whole lot of sense. And Sunday in the middle of the day, hoards of people are headed home from church. in Portland, streets are logical and the suburbs not so much so that is why I must rely on GPS. I knew it would be a little bit tight to make the drive and make it back to the movie theater in time, but that is OK.

I typed in the address into the GPS on my phone. I was listening to an audiobook at the same time. I felt lost out there as I passed a gun store, a farm supply store, and churches of many Christian denominations. It can be strangely weird listening to a book as the story unfolds and suddenly you must make a left or right or stay in the middle lane. That is all in the adventure. I was a bit distracted, as I was doing math equations as to whether I would make it back for the last showing of this movie. It was a silent movie put to the music of REM. The theatre has an amazing sound system, and the experience is tremendous there.

I pulled up to a house in a cul-de-sac. The neighborhood has plenty of these and they all look the same. I checked the address on the phone and the address on the house and they both matched. At least in my mind they matched. But something did not seem right.

There sat a big truck in the driveway and various loose boards and a discarded pizza box on the front porch. Who eats at Dominoes these days? With all the information I had, I was at the right house. To be sure, I walked up and knocked on the front door. There was no answer. I knocked on the front door once again, and there was no answer.

I called my wife at home to ask her if I was at the intended house. She asked me if I drove up a long driveway and I said yes. That is a pretty big question. Every house had a large driveway. So, I knocked again.

Here I was a guy in rural Clark County. walking, repeatedly up to a stranger’s house. I imagine I looked like a criminal.

The American Way

I knocked again, but still no answer. And out of that screened in front porch came a man with a shotgun asking me what the hell I was doing hanging out in front of his house. That is how stereotypes work. The owner of the truck may not have been a guy. This was just my imagination running away with me.

Nobody came to the door; I dropped the package on the front steps.

 I got back in the car, and something did not feel right. I did what everybody does when they find them self lost. I turned off the radio. I looked at my watch and the movies were to start in fifteen minutes, and I was fifteen minutes away if I drove like a race car driver. That is not my style.

I had taken the time to match the address to that which was on the donation form. Still, I checked again. This was against the run of play as I am not all that detail oriented. There was a hole in my method. I did not factor in that I could have fat fingered the address while entering my phone.

Which I did.

Suburbia has its own challenges. The correct address was a quarter mile away. This of course entailed two u turns, a crossing of a small median strip and an illegal left turn.

And all is right with the world.

It was now two o’clock however I had to get the package into the right hands. And with this I succeeded. A kind woman with a broad smile greeted me on the front porch. She looked like she just came home from church. There was no doubt here. Not the musical group but the conviction, my work was done here.

I do not particularly like to drive and it is not a skill set where I excel. I drove aggressively and even took time to get annoyed by those driving the speed limit. I made it to the movie theatre and the staff simply waved me in. They were expecting me.

I sat down in my seat and the movie had already started. It was a clever silent movie, but I didn’t recognize the music. And then the credits rolled. It was a twenty-minute prelude to the main attraction. The main show soon began. There was a couple in front of me who came to the theatre with the aid of a walker.

I wonder how their beloved movie paired with the music of REM. The music of REM paired well with the silent movie.

It has been a rough week.

The story of my life in trying times
Just add water, stir in lime
How the west was won and where it got us. -Michael Stipe