When my children decided recently, with gentle but stern guidance that it was time for me to stop driving, I screamed and hit the car with my closed fist, pouted and groaned that 90% of my life was being taken away.
What was left if I couldn’t get in my 2006 Honda Accord and drive away to parts unknown unless, of course, you knew about the grocery store, the gas station, the beauty salon and the mall. The “crybaby” scenes did not go well. Three daughters with practical wisdom, amazing competence and unequaled caregiving and a son skilled with a surgeon’s sharp knife would not be dissuaded.
Time was up. No more driving. I am just three months shy of 80, so what’s the big deal?
Credit: contributed
Credit: contributed
Changes were not new to me. My loving spouse of 53 years died 4 years ago. I scaled down Carrollton’s 4-bedroom house on a spacious, lovely yard to a two-bedroom condo in a 20-unit complex on a very busy street in Atlanta. I said goodbye to 40 years of my passion as a marriage and family therapist, and now -- no more driving! Was this change the beginning of the end, or could it be the end of my self-imposed death throes?
It was hard for awhile. I called two Ubers for pick up at the same time. Another day, the ride came, but it was 45 minutes late. Still another ride did not observe the construction warnings and he took me around the city before coming back almost to my condo home and making a new start. This ride cost twice as much as the regular route, but remember, Atlanta does have highway construction!
What I call “artificial” transportation has also taught me much about appreciating unexpected positive change. Conversations with the drivers were not artificial! These dialogues allowed me to learn so much about other people’s lives that I would never have known otherwise. I learned that these drivers valued their lives and their commitment to helping people.
One young driver was ecstatic about the tip I offered, saying he was trying to make enough money to enter a good college and all the tips helped. Another driver was eager to tell me about his granddaughter who would be turning 5 soon. He had seen a doll that he knew she wanted and he was saving tips to buy it. He said this tip would help him turn the corner on enough money for the doll. His broad smile across his kind face and beautiful teeth made the perfect picture of happiness.
Change -- yes! Artificial transportation brought a change in me, so that I went on through the day, singing “I know I’ve been Changed.” “Follow me down to that old Jordan stream” ... and “see the angels in heaven ... signed my name.” Those changes in this song are spiritual changes, but that is what happens when life is exchanged in a loving, caring way.
The change of giving up driving my beloved 2006 Honda Accord brought the necessity for artificial transportation as proof of my aging, and the brokenness of aging in one sense, but there are other changes.
While I was waiting on my artificial transportation outside a shopping mall, I spoke with an elderly lady waiting on her bus back to her living center. I asked her how she liked the living arrangement, and she responded. “Well, it’s not the best, but I’m not the brightest or most beautiful either, so I guess I am blessed to still be here, and smiling, and able to use a walker.” She then told me her name and which residence she lives in.
As she boarded the bus, she asked if I would come to see her some time. While I may not see her again, I know her name, and where she lives, and that she is very kind and appreciates life. She graced my life with her wisdom.
While these changes are personal, and the result of aging, they can be seen as the truth of letting go of pride and position, and moving into a change of using the gifts of kindness that we give and receive from the strangers who help us.
Can artificial transportation transport us to see the greater good, and help us find a way to become a more caring community of human beings?
We can certainly hope so.
Mary James Dean holds a doctorate of ministry and worked as a licensed marriage and family therapist.
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