Nothing Lasts Forever

Nothing lasts forever.

The little blue car, cosmetically unsightly but as reliable as rain, makes a series of gagging noises when I turn the key and refuses to start. I hope it's no more than the battery but the poor old thing is nearing its 20^th birthday and may be ready to give up the ghost. It's 1o5 in the shade and car trouble is the last thing I need but shit happens, I remind myself. I resign myself to it and start looking for the bright side.

It could've happened this morning all the way on the other side of the city and left me stranded at the vet's office.

Even if the a/c is less than perfect in the old Suburban, lots of folks wouldn't have access to a second vehicle.

My Mobil card is paid up and it isn't pouring rain.

I have enough savings to make a down payment on a new car if it's absolutely essential.

Turns out the bright side isn't as far off as I thought. The mechanic replaces the battery for less than a small fortune and confidently sends me on my way.

When it happens a second time not 24 hours later, this time in the early evening as I'm leaving a local bar, I have to work a little harder to find the bright side. The mechanic is distraught to discovers a connection was left loose when the battery was installed and he's so ashamed that it's all he can do to meet my eyes. I tell him not to be a goose, nobody's perfect. He thanks me and gives me a hug, tells me he appreciates my business and my understanding. I've known him for a lot of years and I suspect he means it. That's part of the bright side.

The little blue car lives to fight another day.

Paper Cuts & Other Life Threatening Injuries

I wake to the all too familiar news that my friend, Dennis, is in jail. The police found him passed out on the side of the road with the engine running, his foot on the brake, and an open container in his hand. It's his third offense which means that there are fifty or a hundred that he got away with and they waste no time or nicelties hauling his scrawny ass to a cell. Friends and family blow up the internet with sympathy and worry and well wishes and a Gofundme to raise his $3000 bail. They point out that he has cancer he needs treatment for and that he was just released from several weeks in the charity hospital for a life threatening infection in his intestines. There is rampant speculation that he isn't being allowed his medications, that he is confined to a cell for 21 hours each day, that his significant other has refused to bail him out and that his family is being indifferent to his plight. They are quoted as saying he's a worthless drunk, it's his own doing, and he can rot for all they care. If you really care about him, one sister writes, You'll take his damn keys and throw them in the river. The words are harsh and painful to hear but they resonate with me more than I like. The line between helping and enabling is thinner than a paper cut. It can be invisible but still hurt like a son of a bitch. The effort to raise the bail money barely causes a ripple and though I struggle with it, in the end I decide not to give. I don't believe that the local police will let him die in custody and apart from his poor health issues, I don't believe jail is likely to do him any harm. I'm very much in the minority about this and it's not a decision I come to lightly. There's a good chance he'll be angry with me - as will others – possibly it could even mean an end to our friendship but I'm willing to risk it. As my friend Charli reminds me, if he gets angry, then he gets angry. He can be angry for a lot of years to come, God willing.