The Many Thoughts of Wanda Kidd

My son has always been someone who steers his own boat. He spoke little as a child, but his words were definitive when he did. These days, we talk once a week at five on Sundays. We discuss everything from religion and politics to the funny stories we’ve shared, but he rarely calls randomly.

I was surprised when he called me mid-afternoon on Ash Wednesday. His opening salvo was music to my ears. “Mom, I need your advice.”  “Wow, Stanton, what can I do for you?”  I might have sounded a bit too cheery for someone in a crisis.

My car just stopped in the middle of the road on my way to church for the Ash Wednesday service. “Where are you?” I asked. “At the corner of Highland and Ponce de Leon.” “In front of Second Ponce de Leon Baptist Church? “ I asked.  “Yes, not important,” he replied. “Anyway, what do you suggest I do?”

I know I sounded so much like a mother. I asked, “Did you buy AAA with the birthday money I gave you for that purpose?” NO. OK, then, this is what I think you should do. Take it to an actual Subaru dealership this time. See if they have a tow truck, then take an Uber home. OK, Mom, I’ve got to go. The nice-looking people passing out ashes in the church parking lot are headed this way.

Later that day, I called to see how it turned out. He was in much better spirits. “So, what did you do?” I asked. Oh, it turns out my insurance includes towing. I had them take it back to my neighborhood mechanic. The tow truck guy let me ride with him, and I could walk home from there. He did ask for a tip, but I explained that I never carry cash.

I paused before speaking. “Well, Son, you give new meaning to the phrase, ‘it was just an honor to be asked.’”