Decisions...

by Rob Watson

Perhaps you have had cause to wonder how any change in a series of events might have changed an outcome. In the cases of great outcomes and cases of tragedies, we humans take time to examine our decisions and speculate on how we might have made things better or worse. The following is a story of a rather benign series of events with a pleasant outcome.

Wife made friends with a co-volunteer at one of her former occupations. A plan, on our part to travel some 3,000 miles,  would bring us within a few miles of this person's abode. Using electronic means they made a plan to meet this friend as we traveled near by. There in lies the tale.

After a week or so of electronic isolation, Wife sent a message of when we would arrive, but received no acknowledgement. Presuming the message would be received later we continued with the original plan. After driving a few hundred miles it became clear we would arrive at the meeting place two hours early. Common courtesy requires one to call to verify we could come early. Again there was no acknowledgement. Now the question becomes to go or not to go. We decided to go.

When we arrived in town,  Wife called again. Again, no answer. We had a GPS, a map, and a general idea of the location of the friend's home. We decided to go there and if no one was home we would come back to town and look around until the appointed meeting time. In order to drive in the correct direction we had to turn around.  We decided to turn around by going around the block. We could have gone right or left. We chose left.

At the end of this block we could again choose right or left. To the left I saw the town hall and seat of local government. I suggested we ask at City Hall for better directions.  Wife responded by turning right and suggested we ask at the post office, which was right there. She turned in and parked.  Being a gentleman I volunteered to go inside and inquire.

As I stepped from the car a lady on a bike rode up and dismounted. I inquired as to whether she knew Wife's friend. "Oh, indeed!" was her reply. "How can I help you?" I told her we were seeking directions to the friend's home. "go back one block and drive south 9 miles until you get to a big barn. Turn right and drive three more miles to a large orange mail box and turn left. You will see the house off in the distance at the top of the hill." I repeat these directions with her nodding to indicate I had gotten it right. Then she repeats these directions again, and concludes "Well, I think that is correct. Lets go in the post office and make sure."

 Inside, the postmaster is on the phone and we must wait for her to finish before asking direction again. "Go back one block and drive south 9 miles until you get to a big barn. Turn right and drive three more miles to a large orange mail box and turn left. You will see the house off in the distance at the top of the hill." word for word the original set of directions I had previously been given. Then the postmaster added "The road is being torn up to be resurfaced but it has not reached the mail box yet... Let me call to find out." She makes a phone call but got no answer. She calls another number and chats for a bit before hanging up. She repeats the directions a second time. I can now go outside, get in the car and relate to Wife all that has occurred, including the, now repeated four times, directions.

When I have finished, there is a pause in the action as a car pulls into the parking space beside Wife. There in the front passenger seat is her friend, who looks over and develops an expression of great surprise.

As It happens, the friend had completely forgotten we were coming. Her mother had died several days before and she had gone, with her sisters and friends, to that home to clean up and sort the mother's possessions. They had come to town to visit the bank, check the mail, and go to a resturant for lunch.

Arrangements were made for meeting at lunch in another town. We lunched, visited, and drove on our way, marveling at the series of events needed to make this happen.