The Bobby Pin Story

Dear Frank,

Tell you the story one more time?  It’s not that I don’t want to tell you about it. I do. It’s just that it makes me sound so bad. I love people, usually, no matter what, striving to treat people well unless they underestimate me and the level of integrity I strive for or if they take advantage of my family. Those things will bring out the worst in me. But, I’m getting off topic. Let me just go ahead and tell you the story you’re asking for. One more time.

Back in about 1973, in Dallas, I was driving an adorable, white ‘69 Karmann Ghia, which brought me great joy. Singing the minute I’d awaken on a Saturday morning, I’d get dressed, grab the keys, scoot out of my apartment over on Throckmorton Street, and jump into that cute little thing, to drive it all over Dallas, exploring.

One week before Christmas that year, it was snowing and sleeting throughout the day. But I was in the holiday spirit, ready to roll at NorthPark Mall. Determined to find a parking space in the covered garage conveniently situated near Neimans, I took my time. Cars had filled not only the covered parking garage and the open-air parking lots, they were overflowing onto the snow and slush-covered shoulders facing Northwest Highway and Boedecker Street. I knew that someone was bound to be leaving with packages abounding as they headed to their car.

I sang along to Christmas music and took my time in my super cool sports car, making my way up and down the rows of cars, tooling ‘round and ‘round that parking garage. Happily twisting a wisp from my updo, I was thinking about all the beautiful Christmas displays inside as I kept an eye on the walkway for a shopper heading to their car to leave.

There was nary a one to be seen for quite a while as I made my rounds, but eventually, there she came and the timing was just right. Mrs. Finished-Shopper!  I rounded the corner and headed down the next aisle of cars where she was unlocking and getting in. Hovering there, I snapped on my blinker and waited, being sure to leave enough space for the lady to pull out and pull away. As soon as she drove off, I raised my foot to the gas pedal but quickly had to put on the brakes. A man in a car coming from the other direction gave me a sly grin, a wink, and a wave as he slid right into my spot. How did that happen? Where did he come from? I gulped, stared a moment as I took it all in. I watched him get out of his car, adjust his coat collar and whistle a tune as he walked towards the mall.  Hmmm.

Pulling myself together, I drove out of that convenient, covered parking garage (which was soooo close to the entrance to the store). I searched ‘til I found the next empty spot: It was outside on the icy cold open lot with sleet coming down so steadily. Frank, I didn’t immediately go into the store, as you know. I clicked my boots right over to that covered parking garage and headed to the scene where the parking spot was taken from me. I loosened a bobby pin from my hair, crouched down at the front right tire and let out all the air!  Yes, I did!

But, dear readers looking over Frank’s shoulder, guess what I did next. I moved to the back right tire. Did the same thing. Sashayed around to the other side and completed my mission of depleting all four tires of their air. They were so flat. Then, off I went to find all the gifts on my shopping list!

I think back to that young woman. I was strong-willed, independent, and greatly into fairness — someone who was not going to be taken advantage of, by dang. That’s certainly not a bad thing, but maybe I could have been nicer about it. Right? Right.

I’m going to think about it and you do, too, Frank. Think about that next time someone steals your lilypad. Rise above. Be the bigger frog. 😘

Love,

Jane