The RED Convertible

And even as I daydream about simplifying my lifestyle, downsizing my possessions, and someday moving aboard a floating residence where I am free to wake up, weigh anchor, and sail away with wind and current as the spirit moves me, I also find myself fantasizing about much more conventional midlife aspirations. A few years ago, on the threshold of my fiftieth birthday, it was a convertible I was obsessed with. These Chrysler LeBarons are not exactly expensive vehicles...you can generally find two or three running, high-milage models available for a few thousand dollars within 100 miles radius any time you look. It's a car you can buy with a credit card...but even so, as a parish minister it still seemed a little too extravagant and self-indulgent to me. Sure, it's just a silly toy. But is that really the kind of image I want to present to the public about my private and "personal" life?

About that same time, I was regularly visiting a hospitalized parishioner of mine who (as it turned out) was in the last few months of her life. The relationships one forms in times like that are really quite special, because the bonds that are developed are often quite intense and profound...and yet intimate and fun and often even silly all at the same time. In this particular instance, Jeanne had suffered several small stokes, which often left her aphasic or unable to come up with the word she wanted even when she knew in her own mind exactly what she wanted to say. This could be frustrating for her almost to the point of exasperation, but it was also a source of occasional amusement as well when the words she DID select were not necessarily ones she would ordinarily use in the presence of a minister!

Other times, she would deal with her frustration simply by remaining silent, and leaving me do all the talking. So I shared with her my dilemma -- I was thinking about buying myself a convertible for my 50th birthday, but I couldn't make up my mind -- should I buy the white one or the red one?

Jeanne's eyes lit up like an excited schoolgirl's. "The RED one!" she exclaimed without hesitation. "Get the red one!"

Jeanne was gone a few months later. And I still haven't bought the car. Afterwards her son Tommy gave me an expensive model of a red Corvette roadster from the 1950's, which I keep on the toy shelf along with all of my other special treasures (see photo posted 7/28, lower left side shelf). And I do have another birthday coming up. But what kind of idiot buys himself a used, high-milage convertible just before the beginning of another Maine winter? Especially when he has a brand new vehicle with under 3000 miles parked in a lot across the street because he is physically incapable of driving it?

And besides, if I REALLY wanted to set a good example, wouldn't I be shopping for one of these?...