No more wuss

Darth Vader parked his car in my garage. (iPhone photo by BobbaLew.)

—“I could say a MESS I deserve has occurred to a rebellious and of-the-Devil sinner, plus I’m disgusting and reprehensible.” I said that to my doggy daycare guy, a religious person. It was 4:30 p.m. and already getting dark.
He knows my history, but almost seven years after my wife died, I’m coming to realize that’s baloney.
“Rebellious and of-the-Devil” are my hyper-religious and judgmental parents, and “disgusting and reprehensible” are Hilda Walton, founder of the Hilda Q. Walton School of Gender Relations.
Hilda was my neighbor during childhood, and also my Sunday-School Superintendent. She convinced me all men, including me, were evil and disgusting. Her husband was probably playing around. (He did smoke Luckys.)
I couldn’t worship my father as worthy of the right hand of Jesus. My mother mellowed as I grew up, but early-on was just like my father.
“Don’t get smart!” she’d bellow.
My parents and Hilda marked me for life. Seventy years late I’m leaving it behind, but it’s always there.
My parents and Hilda founded the church I attended as a child. That church has since become a school. That’s Hilda’s Sunday-School annex, very school-like.
My car needed interior doll-up = vacuum all the dog-hair and food-crumbs. Plus dirt and salt on the floor-mats.
I was suggested Vision Hyundai north of Canandaigua. They did it 3-4 years ago, and it hasn’t been done since. I needed a way to get to my YMCA aquacise class. That’s also in Canandaigua, but Vision doesn’t supply customer-shuttle.
I’d need a “loaner,” and none were available during two earlier tries. That’s over two prior weeks, but now one was available. Vision told me my doll-up might be completed in a few hours. That’s hand over my car about 9 a.m., pick up loaner, do my aquacise class (10-11 a.m.), hit the grocery, then possibly pick up my car about noon or 1 p.m.
Things change. When I turned over my car I was told another interior doll-up would occur, and they might not get to my car until afternoon.
After aquacise I drove the loaner home — my dog was still in doggy daycare. And of course every trip to Canandaigua is 20-25 minutes. I ate my cereal, took a short nap, then called Vision. (I used Siri to do it; they weren’t in my iPhone contacts yet.)
They were deep into my car, and might not be done until 5:30 p.m. My doggy daycare guy texted me about when I might pick up my dog. A mess was beginning, and to my mind it wasn’t because I’m a sinner. That’s Hilda and my parents.
Like maybe Vision coulda been more savvy. If I’d known, I coulda overnighted my dog at a nearby kennel; my doggy daycare guy is just a grooming business, and he’s doing me a favor. We used to work together at the Mighty Mezz, and he took action immediately after my wife died.
I told Vision to hold my car overnight, but I might hafta pick up my dog with their loaner. Chancy; what if my dog has to widdle? What if his paws are filthy? It’s their car — I don’t like picking up my dog in a car I don’t own.
Off to that groomer I drove in the loaner; I’d have to pick up my dog. There is a soiled spot on the rear seat, plus small drool blobs on the front passenger seat. I figgered the drool would dry.
A sea change has occurred. No longer are such messes the result of my being a sinner. Like HELLO Vision. You coulda been more savvy. I’ll try to dab out that muddy footprint, but by leading me astray that footprint becomes no longer my fault.
Sorry dudes, the downtrodden wuss is gone. But only somewhat. You don’t just flip-flop the childhood I had.
“Keep trying.” I told a friend the other day. “Don’t give up on me. I’ll get the hang of it sooner-or-later. I did with ****; now it’s yer turn.”
I doubt she will.

• I do aquatic balance training in the Canandaigua YMCA’s swimming-pool, two hours per week — plus a third hour on my own.
• “Siri” (“Sear-eee”) is Apple’s iPhone assistant. She takes commands via voice-recognition. E.g. “Call Vision Hyundai,” which she located on the Internet.
• The “Mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired 13 years ago. Best job I ever had — I was employed there almost 10 years — over 11 if you count my time as a post-stroke unpaid intern. (I had a heart-defect caused stroke October 26th, 1993, from which I recovered fairly well. That defect was repaired.)