"Things will turn out all right in the end, and if they aren’t all right, it isn’t the end"
(Sonny in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel)
Well, the lost has been found. One of Greg’s parishioners, a
farmer from north of town, has his coat back. He did not lose it at church,
however. It happened at a Legion event. He went to put on his coat, and it had
disappeared from the rack. What is worse, his car keys were in the pocket.
I remember something
similar happening at a large downtown church in a certain city near here. A
thief stole not only money from the choir room but also the keys to a car,
belonging to a soprano and a bass, which was found — wrecked — days later.
A happier ending awaited our congregant, but he did have to
wait. As I understand it, about a month
later, a resident of the seniors’ apartments here in town was heading to a
doctor’s appointment in Strath. The day being chilly, he put on his coat only
to find unfamiliar car keys in the pocket.
There was a War Amps tag on the key chain, but before he had
a chance to return them that way, he dropped into Tim Horton’ s to have coffee
with yet another parishioner. At least I think he is a parishioner; like the dad in that Norman Rockwell painting pictured below, he stays
at home, while his wife attends on both their behalfs.
Naturally the chat
turned to the unexpected find in the unfamiliar coat. Well, problem solved. (Erstwhile) parishioner #2 made a call home to
his wife who called the wife of parishioner #1 who had scarcely hung up the
phone when the inadvertent absconder was on the doorstep with both the coat and
the keys. Relief all round, especially
as the farming couple had been delaying replacing the car keys owing to the
expense involved.
Rural people look out for one another in other ways as well.
I drove to Strath, also for a doctor’s appointment, which
turned out to be rather bizarre and truncated, but that’s another story. Anyhow, I decided to patronize our local
drugstore for my prescription thereby eschewing a perfectly good Shoppers Drug
Mart right beside the medical clinic. After a stop at the bank, I was
heading home along the 15-mile ribbon of highway known locally as Centre Rd, a
gently rolling and curving two-lane route with not too much traffic (at least
by Highway 401 standards).
I was enjoying the
drive, when two things happened. I noticed I was going well over the speed
limit, and a car approaching from the opposite direction flashed its lights at
me. I knew I did not have my brights on since it was 3:00 in the afternoon.
However, another light came on when I realized this as the time-honoured
warning about speed traps. I slowed. Just in time too, because there was the
OPP cruiser lurking by a copse of trees.
Although I thought he was probably interested in just looking south, I
did flash my lights at the next car coming from the north just in case. It is
nice to be neighbourly.
By the time I got to Parkhill, the fuel gauge was bouncing
in the red zone so I pulled in to the gas station. I don’t pump gas very often. After a couple
of tries, I had positioned the car close
enough to the diesel dispenser and got out. There was a trick to opening the
gas flap which I successfully employed, but I couldn’t get the gas cap off.
Frustration.
However, a young chap was providing complimentary windshield
washing (really — this wasn’t a squeegee kid).
He managed to unscrew it for me.
That was nice. Then I was faced with the pump operation. I chose $20 as
my price of choice and put the nozzle into the tank. Nothing happened. Apparently you need to follow the directions
on the pump about lifting a handle. Thank goodness, I discovered this before I
had to ask again. Neighbourliness is all very well but not when one’s
incompetence might be food for talk at Tim’s or the restaurant at the Esso
Station.
Prescription in hand, I went to the local drugstore as
planned. Alas, although their computer said they had the medication, it was
nowhere to be found on the shelves. However, the pharmacist generously offered
to phone the Shoppers Drug Mart in Grand Bend. (Given a choice, I just did not want to face
driving to Strathroy all over again.) He had the presence of mind to make sure
their computer and shelves were in agreement, so off I went to the Bend.
More successfully than expected, as it turned out: not only
did I get signed up for the Ontario Drug Benefit Program by another awfully
young person, but they had on special what is really my favourite prescription— Lindt dark chocolate (Intense Orange and Intense Mint).
Purchases made, I was soon sedately driving down the highway
home — only four hours after I had left for my 10-minute appointment.
But it had all turned out well!
