By Norman Knight
Seems like I am always running late. Why is that? I think I am fairly adept at guesstimating the time it will take to get from wherever I am to wherever I am heading. On rare occasions, I leave earlier than I might in anticipation of unforeseen delays. And yet, the next thing I know, I am looking for a parking spot many minutes after I was supposed to be at my destination. I rush out of my car, stuff keys into my coat and race toward the door, all the while reviewing the events which had led up to this frustrating situation. It’s always a puzzle to me.
Why, just the other day Becky and I left our house in plenty of time. We were driving down a country road chatting and enjoying the cold, bright sunny morning when we both noticed a large something in the farm field on our right. A huge hunched over bird was moving slowly across the stubble. “It’s an eagle!” We enthused simultaneously. I pulled the car over to the edge of the road and got out quickly.
This activity caused the huge bird to flap up and away to a massive sycamore on the southern perimeter of the field. It was now farther from us, but still easy to spot if one knew where to look. I stood with the driver’s side door open while I felt for my phone. My gloves were hindering my attempt to use the camera feature, so I slipped first one and then the other off and tossed them blindly in the direction of the front seat all the while keeping my eyes on the dark perching shape in the sycamore.
To say the telephoto function on my phone is not very good is an understatement. I know this and yet I keep trying to take faraway shots using it. For this particular photoshoot, I was staring into the sun at a dark stand of trees, and although I took several, the pictures were poor. We both stood and simply looked for a while longer. As I think about it, I should have done that in the first place, and not worried about capturing a momentary image.
We got back into the car and took off. My seat-belt and my bulky winter coat fought against me as I felt around for my gloves. I was sitting on one but couldn’t locate the other. I pulled over — should have done that in the first place — and quickly looked under and around my seat. No glove. “Maybe it fell on the road back there,” I said. They were Christmas gloves, so I turned around and drove back to the eagle sighting spot. We didn’t see it and just for a moment wondered if possibly a bird might have taken it. Becky got out and walked along the road. No glove. We headed off once again. Becky continued to check under and around the recesses of the cramped little car. “Here it is,” she said without judgment as she pulled it out from where it had lodged under my seat.
I sometimes catch myself grumbling and fuming at people when I am kept waiting: “They are only thinking of themselves.” “I am not important enough to worry about.” “Obviously, I as customer/patient/client/tax-paying citizen do not rank as high as whatever he/she is doing at the moment.” It is probably good for me to remember the eagle and the glove and consider the possibility that other people sometimes have unforeseen delays of their own.
Becky and I finished our errands by early afternoon and drove home. As we approached the field we wondered and, sure enough, not only was our eagle still there, but it had been joined by another eagle. Not being in a hurry, we stopped and simply looked. I kept my phone in my pocket and my gloves on.
Norman Knight, a retired Clark-Pleasant Middle School teacher, writes this weekly column for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
