I got a wace caw!

race car

A few years ago, I was riding a train somewhere in Tokyo. It must have been pretty late because the train was nearly empty. I looked down at the seat next to me and saw a tiny blue race car, probably dropped by the sleepy fingers of a child who’d been carrying it around all day. At that very moment, somewhere in the vastness of Tokyo, that child’s sad face and quivering lip might have been breaking his mother’s heart as he begged her to go back and look for the tiny car. That thought tugging at my heartstrings, I picked up the tiny car and tucked it into my pocket, vowing to keep it safe and love it well.

Now I have my very own tiny car, L’il Six, a 2015 Honda Fit and just plum peachy perfect for my needs. Six and I were making our way home the other day, trying to merge into rush hour traffic. The people in the next car did not want to let us in. To make that clear, the young woman in the passenger seat turned to me, smirked, and gave me the finger.

Voices of Mary Poppins, Aunt Bea and other prim ladies tut-tutted in my head, asking where such unpleasant behavior could have come from.

My word. Good gracious. Heavens to Betsy.

The day before that, someone keyed our car in the parking lot at Foodland. I think it was the pouty-faced boy sitting in the back seat of the van parked next to Six, but can’t prove it. I don’t even want to. The damage is done. Maybe someday that awful child will realize what a dickhead he was and try to do better. Or he’ll end up in prison. I don’t care which.

I’ve never had any illusions about living in paradise. Along with breathtaking sunsets, mesmerizing surf and exotic flowers and birds, there are also bugs and slugs in the garden, endless rain, mushrooms growing on the deck and lava dust in the dryer. All of that is as it should be. But I was not expecting such spiteful, petty nastiness, such surly arrogance, especially among the young. And more than that: the belief that a moment of vengeance makes any difference. And even more: the ignorance of just how much damage their selfish actions do to other people’s lives.

But the pendulum also swings the other way. Among many others, there was the lovely lady at the ATM who gave me change for the copy machine and refused to take my dollar, the warm smile of the man who blessed my sneeze at Home Depot, the support and encouragement of the younger members of taiko class.

Icing on the cake, this story belongs in the Halloween Hall of Fame:

Little bitty trick-or-treater with a sad face and quivering lip: “Is that chocolate?”
Rick: “Yes, it is. Would you like something else?”
Beleaguered Trick-or-Treater’s mom : “Just take it and say ‘thank you,’ buddy.”
LBToT: “But, Mom, I don’t… [insert huge shuddering sobby sigh]… like chocolate.”
Rick, understanding this is a Big Deal, shows him the whole bowl: “See if there’s something else you want.”
LBToT: “Is that a wace caw?”
Rick: “A race car? Yeah, you can have it.”
LBToT: “THANK YOU!”
LBToT Mom: “Thank you!”
LBToT, echoing down the sidewalk: “Mom, I got a wace caw. I got a wace caw!”

Sir Isaac Newton said that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. I suppose that works for physics, but for humanity there is an additional factor. Perhaps Finger Girl and Sourpuss Boy got a moment of spiteful bliss from their horrid behavior, but I will get years of pleasure from the ATM Lady, Home Depot Guy, the Drum Kids and IBToT. The good is worth more. The good is a wace caw.

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