by Kevin Burton
I set the phone down in the office, just long enough to go downstairs and start a load of laundry.
How virtuous is that!
But alas, in doing so, I let a precious opportunity slip away. “Kicking myself” is not the half of it.
I don’t often leave the phone behind. I try to keep the phone with me at all times. My mother is 91 years old, facing medical and other challenges, pretty much daily. I need to be available should she or any medical or nursing home personnel need to communicate with me.
Nothing of that sort yesterday, to my great relief. But I did have a voicemail:
“Hi Kevin my name is Maryanne. I’m calling with Ridgeline recruiting. We’re facilitating a driving habits study on behalf of Wichita State University for male residents and wanted to see if you might be interested in participating.”
“The study is taking place at the end of January and you would be paid $200 for your for your time and feedback.”
Then she said to please call such and such a number to express interest. The call came from Irving, Texas, home of the Dallas Cowboys.
Driving habits study. And I missed the call! Man!
Marianne was obviously tipped off to my availability by this chick from State Farm Insurance who is always writing me letters, telling me what a great driver I am and inviting me to sample their insurance products.
If you read Page 7 regularly, you know that I was born in a log cabin on Minot Air Force Base, North Dakota, and that from that point forward I have been legally blind.
So I think that could dampen Marianne’s enthusiasm to include me in the study, but how can I know that for sure? After all, State Farm is practically stalking me!
And I do have driving credentials.
In my early 20s I was rejected for several newspaper reporter jobs because I didn’t have a drivers’ license. This kept me (thanks to our merciful God in Heaven above!) from accepting a position with the Brownsville Herald. That was my closest call, but there were others.
So I twice looked into driving with a monocular mounted on a pair of glasses. I did fairly well with that but had a minor one-car accident while taking my driver’s test in McPherson, Kansas. That was the end of that.
I knew I could never live with myself if I ever hurt anyone, just because I was hell-bent to be a newsman. I did eventually work as a reporter, with magazines and newspapers in five states.
I still have my learner’s permit, somewhere, because I never throw away things like that.
From that point on, I have mostly been a driving assistant. These days I serve as an essential advisor to my wife Jeannette in support of her driving of the family Toyota.
It’s here that I pass on some friendly advice to driving assistants, blind and sighted.
When you’re at a stoplight, which has turned green, maybe 10 seconds ago, you can say anything you want. But don’t say, “What shade of green were you hoping for Sweetie?”
Don’t say that. It will get results, in terms of getting the car moving, but it will not end happily for you.
Let’s just say Jeannette did not offer me $200 for my time and feedback.
So much of my feedback now is for other drivers in other cars, who can’t hear me.
Jeannette says she is glad I don’t drive, but I know she doesn’t doubt me. I think it has more to do with the driver’s seat conforming to the pattern of her bottom, as also with her favorite recliner.
It’s been a long time since my attempt at driving. I know some people who have my level of vision who have gotten a driver’s license. Technology has gotten much better, the visual aids and the autos themselves. I suppose I could even get a driverless car.
But I would not be able to pull that together in time to help with the driver habits study.
So even though as I write this, it is not yet 5 p.m., and I could return Maryanne’s call and sign up, I have decided not to do that. I think I am of more use to society if I just go downstairs and take the clothes out of the washer and put them in the dryer.
And I think I just heard, emanating from a battered, old recliner in the living room, a deep sigh of relief.
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