Papa’s Wisdom About Rolling Up the Window
Averting Peril To Kids In the Back Seat
The most critical information in your life won’t come from a teacher, the library, or the internet but from a respected mentor.
My kids asked me what I wanted my grandchildren to call me. Without hesitation, I said, “Papa.” That’s what I called my maternal grandfather, despite knowing later the word “papa” meant potato in Spanish.
I fondly remember my grandfather’s personality, his funny exclamations, and the long drives with Mama driving. Mother would make special trips so we could spend holidays with them and hear the advice he used to give.
Once, I asked Mama, “What’s a Christ tamale?” In my naivete, I had misheard Papa as he often exclaimed, “Christ, Almighty!” when listening on the radio about something the government had done.
Much has been wasted because I was only in my callow twenties when he died. I’d be better if he had lived longer, sharing his brilliant precepts. Those gems were enjoyable, and the one I remember as most helpful, of his grandparental advice, came when I was 6.
As usual, we were driving along with Mama at the wheel of their new four-door sedan. Before cars had air conditioning, we had all the windows down.
He told me that when he cleared his throat to eject unwanted phlegm outside his window, to roll my back window up. It didn’t take me long to realize why. Nothing could stop the curving aerodynamic trajectory caused by the post-WWII airstream styling of their new Mercury.
And sometimes, my rolled-up back window recorded the tragedy averted. So did sitting on Mama’s side of the car and letting my little sister brave the circumstances. Sometimes, we just ducked.
Sam writes about addiction to substances, behaviors, and thistles of the soul.
