There is a magnetized card on my fridge door, which says: When in danger, run in circles. When in doubt, scream. When cornered, smile. Last night I smiled my cheeks off but it didnt do much good. It was my clumsiness again. In a rush to set the table, I picked up a dish of custard my sister-in-law had spent half the morning preparing and, when I swung around to take it from the pantry to the kitchen, this custard slipped off the pan and rearranged itself on the floor. Thinking quickly (under the heading: sneaky is best) I called in the canine troops who disposed of the evidence with astonishing alacrity. Agility has never been one of my strengths. My uncle Donald called me tumbleweed all through my formative years. My mother called me rambunctious. Years ago in Toronto, after completing a successful job interview with the office manager of a new firm, I decided to take the subway home. In my rush to spread the good news about the new job, I ran down into the station and onto the platform just when the subway doors were closing. As I jumped aboard, I bumped into a rather dignified appearing gentleman. I apologised, and turned my back to him. Just then the car jerked ahead. I lost my balance and, stepping backwards, I placed a stiletto heel squarely on his toes. Apologising again, I reached for a strap to hang on to and when I did, the purse on my arm caught him a nasty clip on the chin. This time he yelped and when I turned to look at him, my elbow caught him squarely in the solar plexus. At that point the subway doors opened and, deciding further apologies would be a redundant, I stepped off the subway and walked the rest of the way home. By the following morning I had more or less forgotten the incident. I arrived at my new job, bright-eyed and beaming and, after completing the requisite paper work in the Personnel Department, the Office Manager took me around and introduced me to the other staff members. I followed her through the offices, smiling and shaking hands, until we reached the office of the president. There stood the same man I had so incessantly battered on the subway the previous evening. My smile froze and, for a moment, so did his. Then studying my stricken face, he began to laugh. He was still chuckling when, in my embarrassment, I turned to leave his office and walked straight into the door frame. This caused him to put his face down on the desk and howl. Well, that was 1963. A few years later he moved to England and then Australia and then to Cape Cod. Yet every Christmas until he passed away in 2012, I receive card, which made me smile and know that I had been forgiven. And certainly not forgotten.
Posted on: Sun, 30 Nov 2014 22:32:48 +0000
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