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Bud Grossmann’s
Words of the Week
for the Week of
March 18, 2012
Published as Family History in a
Gramma Letter dated March 4, 1997.
© 1997 by Bud Grossmann.
All Rights Reserved.
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Golden, 2004
© 2004 by Bud Grossmann
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TROUBLE IN PARADISE
Tuesday, March 4, 1997
Dear Gramma,
With a whoosh and a roar, seawater sprays up from an opening in the ragged lava shoreline at a place here on Oahu called Halona Blow Hole. When the waves and the wind get together just right, the geyser-like explosions are quite a sight.
A few years back, my kids and I took a picnic supper to Blow Hole one weekday at sunset. Frances didn’t go; she had a church meeting to attend. As I parked our van, I noticed a man and woman nearby, methodically searching in and around a top-down red convertible. Tourists, I guessed, judging them by their attire. A rental car, probably. “Lose something?” I asked.
“Our keys,” said the man. “Locked them in the trunk, I’m almost sure. But it’s okay—we walked to the next beach park and called Triple-A. Someone is coming any minute now.”
I tsk-tsked sympathetically. Then, carrying our picnic basket, I led my children down a path to a good spot, closer to Blow Hole’s huffing and puffing. There we enjoyed our meal, salted by the sea.
By the time we finished, an enormous moon was rising over the distant whitecaps, and the evening was turning chilly. Bedtime was fast approaching for Elizabeth, age four.
We returned to our van and saw the red car had not moved. “Oh-oh! How long ago did you call the auto club?” I asked. The tourists looked worriedly at their watches. It had been a while, they said.
I had a thought. “Have you tried getting into the trunk through the back seat?” Yes, they said, but the opening was too small. I gave Eliz a flashlight from my van and sent her into the rental car’s trunk, but no luck, no keys. And still no Triple-A. Daylight was gone; stars were beginning to shine. “Listen,” I said, “why don’t you”—the man—“stay with your car while you”—the woman—“come with me, and we’ll call the Triple-A folks again and see what’s up?”
The stranded people were reluctant to put me to any trouble, but I got them to say okay. We exchanged names; I learned they were Phil and Amy Chiong, from Toronto. Amy and I drove a mile down the road to a pair of pay phones at Sandy Beach. While Amy called Triple-A, I phoned the rent-a-car place and was told we could get spare keys if we went to Honolulu Airport—a twenty-mile drive.
We went right back to tell Phil and found the Triple-A truck had at last arrived. The driver, though, was saying he couldn’t open the trunk without destroying the lock. “Okay,” I said, “then we’re off to the airport. We’ll make one small detour because Eliz needs to get to bed.”
I pulled in at the curb by our house, and our neighbor’s golden retriever, Chelsea, loped up to greet us. Fran was home, lights were on. Phil and Amy came in to meet Frances. She was warming some leftovers and persuaded our guests to sit down for a little supper.
As they ate, Phil and Amy told us they were on their honeymoon. Amy held out her left hand, showing us her unadorned fingers, and said, “But look. No ring. We went snorkeling at Hanauma Bay this afternoon, and when I was rinsing off the dive gear, my wedding band slipped off and disappeared down the shower drain!”
The Chiongs finished their supper, said goodbye to Frances and the kids, and went out to the van with me. Phil leaned back wearily in the front passenger seat. He looked ready for a change of luck.
But when I put the van in gear, I caught a whiff of something. I shifted back to “Park,” reached for my flashlight, and shined it at my feet and then at Phil’s. Then I passed the light to Amy, in the seat behind us. “Amy, would you please check something for me,” I said. “I wonder if you didn’t just step in Chelsea-doo?”
Everybody, I suppose, has to have a real bad day now and again. And maybe I shouldn’t say so, but sometimes other people’s bad days cheer me immensely.
To you, my dear grandmother, I wish an excellent day, and clean shoes.
Love,
Buddy
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This page was updated Sat, Mar 17, 2012, 3:14PM CDT
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© 2012 by Bud Grossmann
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