Maria is at her belly dancing class, and I always worry about her driving on these roads at night. I finally realized why it makes me nervous, apart from the obvious.
I started my journalism career as a police reporter, and one of my tasks was to beat the police to the scene of crashes so I could interview the injured and, yes, the dying and get a picture if I could.
Journalism is often a ruthless business, and I have often been ruthless in my work, but it was exciting for a young kid starting out with his precious press pass. I usually beat the police to the scene.
This kind of death loomed close the other night. Two people were killed Wednesday on a busy highway we live on in an awful collision. We know the spot well. It’s the road Maria takes to come home. My needle jumped up a bit; I felt the heart jump.
Instead of putting this fear on her, I’ve spent some energy figuring out why this made me so anxious; it’s not something I usually worry about. I figured it out and, in doing so, made it go away.
Much of what I saw as a young reporter has also haunted me. One of my police friends told me I was getting too used to it and needed to move on.
I still remember some of those crashes; I held a lot of hands of dying people waiting for the sirens and saw a lot of blood.
So I got nervous when Maria was driving on icy country roads in the winter and when it was especially dark. You can be very alone on those roads.
I never told her what to do; it would have been pointless if I had.
I love her belly dancing class; it has been an excellent gift for her, and I wouldn’t do anything to stop it, undermine it, or change it.
And it isn’t my business. Maria can take care of herself. I figure out what I get nervous about sometimes; those awful images I saw and buried deep down pop up when she’s late or driving in bad weather – it’s a 40-minute drive.
Once I connected the dots, the worry went away. I usually don’t worry about things I can’t control anymore, even if they are things that I love dearly. I’m buried deep into the Gabriel Garcia Marquez autobiography, which is lovely, and I found a new mystery that Maria and I might love.
I’m going to Albany on Thursday morning to refit my foot brace. I now know I must figure out where these things come from if I want them to disappear.
Meditation has been a miraculous help; I’m popping some bubbles.
I’ll be back for lunch.
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I just got an SOS from Sarah at the Cambridge Pantry. She wrote, “Today was one of those days that cleaned us out of some important items. We had 52 families in two hours. Several were very large families. If we could promote three things, it would be helpful: They are all inexpensive: ranch dressing, Parmesan cheese, and elbow Mac. I put them all on the Wish List.”
I told her I’d jump on it when I got back tomorrow afternoon. If you want to check out the wish list yourself (it is inexpensive), feel free. You can see those items on the Cambridge Pantry Wish List here. People out there are getting hungry and pressured. It’s a blessing to be able to help.
The most expensive food she is seeking costs three dollars.
I’ll write more about it when I get home from Albany.
Enjoy the photos. They are special to me.
