Saturday, August 27, 2011

Oh Big Brother

I read the majority of an article this week that said the town of Greenwich Connecticut asked the show What Would You Do? to stop filming in their town. (and by majority of an article, I mean just the title) Upsetting, considering I was under the impression that the show could pop up anywhere in the country at any time. Namely, the front seat of my minivan. It wasn't a typical WWYD? scenario but I was convinced that the cameras were rolling.

A minute into my random act of kindness she asked if I could drive her to church instead of her home. It didn't leave me much time to practice my humbled yet appreciative reaction to what likely awaited us, but I agreed. Her whole congregation would be there I thought. Singing Amazing Grace in the parking lot with uplifted hands like they do in those Christian rock videos. I don't watch the show often, so as I tried to remember if the do-gooders received a big novelty check for being awesome, and considered what charity I'd make said check out to, I was interrupted by the small talk.

This is the part where I'm supposed to lose my cool and kick her out of the car I thought. Nice try Quinones!

"Make a left here." she said. The Methodist church was dark, closed, empty. She asked me to take her to a second church, Baptist this time, also closed. It was Monday after all.

I began to worry Ms. Daisy couldn't remember where she lived, or worst, that she didn't have a home. Alzheimer's, Dementia, old age? What ever it was, I wasn't prepared for real reality.

We wound up back at the Ralph's parking lot where we had met. What awaited us was far more useful than Quinones and his cameras. A security guard that seemed relieved to see Annie. He helped her out of the car and waved at me as if to say thanks I'll take care of it from here. I exhaled knowing that he would, weather the cameras were on or not.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Family Friendly

We had been in enough bad family friendships to know that what we had with this family was extraordinary. I liked her. Her kids liked my kids. Our husbands worked and lunched side by side. We had shared pizzas and lovely days at the park together, and now it was time to introduce them to the rest of our family.

There was one concern that weighed heavily on us the morning of the party. We didn't know her name. Neither one of us did. We had referred to her by name before when reminded of it, but for some reason it just never stuck. Asking her again was no longer an option. We'd have to wing it.


The plan-




She'd have to extend her hand to someone and mention her name eventually, and when she did I'd be there to take note. She didn't.


She was perfectly fine with being Dave's wife for the evening. I wasn't. I had to hear her name, I couldn't let it go. So when the skies parted and the sun beamed down on Dave's arm tattoo, the tattoo that read "Elizabeth" I thought Divine Intervention.



What else could it be?
Elizabeth!

With every Elizabeth I was erasing all the Hey yous and pronouns we had ever spouted at her and strengthening the foundation of our impending life long friendship. Elizabeth.

I swaggered into the kitchen to prepare Liz a drink and found my husband.
"Elizabeth!" I announced.
"Elizabeth?"
"That's her name! It's on his arm! The tattoo!"

The look on his face said it all.
She wasn't Elizabeth. She was the not tattoo worthy girl after Elizabeth.
The mother of his children, yes.
Dave's wife, yes.
Elizabeth, no.


After that, What's Her Names drink became my drink, followed by two more drinks, then the bleak realization that the only friends I'm meant to have are of the Internet sort. Shiny glossy Internet friends with their names neatly printed under their avatars.

I've missed you!