What’s the “Real” Story?

One thing I’ve come to learn about stories.  We all remember them differently.  Just ask any sibling about that old chair in mom’s house.  It came from mom.  No, it came from Aunt Nell.  It’s important because it’s been appraised at a high value.  It’s important because we always needed an extra seat at the table.

I didn’t expect to get a personal lesson in the malleability of stories from a rental car agency.  But I where I got it – this past week.

My own car was hit by a semi.  Sounds impressive, but even though I was in it at the time, there was very little damage to the car and none to me.  $2,500 worth – small potatoes apparently in the car damage world – to fix some scrapes along the driver side.

This meant that for a week I’d need a rental while it was repaired.  All fine.  I got to experience driving a Chevy Malibu for the first time rather than a Prius.  That’s where the “fine” ended.

When I went to turn in the rental, I carefully removed everything that was mine – snow boots,  snow brush, even my cell phone charger. But I totally forgot about the garage remote I’d clipped to the visor – until the next day.  By then, some other renter was behind the wheel of the Malibu.

One call to the rental agency, and it turned out that renters leave their remotes behind all the time.

“It’s probably in our lost and found,” said Hannah at the main desk.  “What’s the brand?”

“Chamberlain!” I told her after checking the extra remote I keep handy in the kitchen for icy mornings. “And it’s black with gray buttons.”

“We’ve got it!” she said.  “I’ll put your name on it and hold it for you.”

Unfortunately, when I arrived to retrieve my remote, there was the one with my name on it plus a whole drawer of others that looked exactly like it.  I grabbed the labeled one, drove the nine miles home, and Voilà! it would not open the door.  Back to the rental agency.

This time, Hannah loaned me four more black-and-gray Chamberlain remotes plus a black-and-silver Liftmaster model that was somehow calling to me. Turns out that one opened the door.  I had convinced myself I had two identical remotes.  Not so.

Where stories are concerned, I think this is hopeful.  We all have the power to draw different stories from the same events or pieces of stuff.  In fact, we can’t help it.  So no worries if a sib remembers “the facts” differently. Even our own memories fail us. The good news is we all have the power to decide which story we choose to believe and live the one that serves us.

What Happened To Ordinary Snow?

Frantic speed-talking and what-iffing is the new news norm. Even in the case of ordinary snow.

Today’s long-expected storm somehow blew in as a shock, where midwestern reporters in mufflers, snow flying past their ears, speculated that maybe – in a few days – it could turn into a nor’easter in Maine.

With that followed pictures of the last nor’easter in Maine, complete with cars overturned in ditches and overflowing emergency rooms.  Followed by A-I generated models of cars ice skating on some imaginary pond.

I’m ready for a news show called “Roll with it,” which would report ordinary weather events as ordinary. “Roll with it” would introduce a snow storm with words like “As we’ve expected.”  And “Obviously, if you don’t have to go out, don’t.” End of story.

No grueling pictures of snow plows overturned on I-95. No staccato speculation that traffic might pile up for miles. No prediction that ER personnel could not possibly treat all the victims.

The school closings list would not have to run continuously on “Roll With It,” only until school was set to open.  We all know that kids thoroughly monitor stormy weather beginning the afternoon before.  By 7 AM, their parents are fully aware if the schools have been closed.

I don’t expect that “Roll With It” would ever apply to politics, rumored government shutdowns, or romantic liaison among the rich and famous.  Only to weather.  That, at least, would be a start.

Crossbody: A Start on Civility

Sometimes it seems like we’re so divided that there’s nothing left to talk safely about.  While others are debating immigration, abortion and the proper education of children, I have set out to spark discussion on a topic we can all weigh in on: what is the best Crossbody Bag?

Granted, it’s not a world-changing topic.  But hey. You have to start somewhere, and my Facebook post asking for Crossbody advice (Anyone have any suggestions for smallish bags that will still hold a pair of sunglasses?) garnered almost as much traffic as my photo of the lunar moth that landed on doorframe last summer

Granted, not all agreed.  But the exchange was civil as friends weighed in with their faves:  Herschel Heritage! Baggalini!  Travelon!  The Jursccu! How refreshing!

And in case you’re curious, I finally settled on a Baggallini Calais  My too-small discards will soon reside at a thrift shop, awaiting new owners.  Because one size does not fit all.