Monday, January 19, 2009

Colder than a Convict

When your father is a saint, sometimes it's cool because karma has a way of spilling out onto his demon seed for doing nothing at all. And I mean nothing. But then again, sometimes you end up giving rides home from Springfield to ex-cons.

Today my dad and I went 30 minutes from home to return a kitchen aid to a store in Springfield. Well on the way over we got a call from Tracy, the four-time prisoner of the state penitentiary** who used to go to our church. Tracy has been using my dad's altruistic heart for 11 years for help. This afternoon Tracy asked my dad if he could come to Springfield to give him a ride to Jacksonville to see some "friends." Well we just happened to be in the area heading that way. Lucky us.

We picked him up from work where he is a waiter (no not a dishwasher. I asked.) My dad says due to his anti-social personality disorder, he makes a great waiter. Which is weird because I would say because of his anti-social personality disorder, he would make a great murderer, but I guess I'm just a glass half empty kind of girl.

Anyway, as I'm in the passenger seat, listening to Tracy's stories, I got a rude awakening. He was telling us about the flaggers who stand outside Wal-Mart for $7.25 an hour. Yeah, I've seen them. Looks like the kind of job that would be fitting for Tracy. Go on. I assumed he was going to tell us he filled out an application, but what he did was get that guy some hot chocolate on the coldest day of the year. The guy told him no one had ever done that for him before. Well, after I had successfully judged everyone inside and outside the car (my dad for being too nice, Tracy for being a criminal (ok that one was actually deserved), the flaggers for looking like criminals, etc.), I realized that I was sitting in the car with a saint and a crook, but still managed to be the most insensitive person in the vehicle.

So alright, I'm more cold-hearted than a sociopath on parole, but what I'm hoping is that Karma is a little bit like my GPS. All it knows is that Tracy was in Springfield. The car I was in picked him up, and then the car I was in dropped Tracy off in Jacksonville. Good deed: attained. I also hope that the Jacksonville Police Department is a little less like my GPS. Accomplice in major drug deal: averted.

*Being the optimistic person he is, my dad said he hoped I wasn't too bothered and that maybe I could get a blog out of the experience. I said maybe but I didn't pay attention very well. He said that I could just make up what I don't remember because it's what I "usually do, right?" Great, now I'm cold-hearted and the saint thinks I'm a liar.

**For purpose of this blog, I asked my dad how many times Tracy has been to jail. He said 'four times. Wait, jail or prison? He's been to the county jail a number of times. He's been to prison four.' Well. I wouldn't want to be inaccurate.

3 comments:

Mary Jo said...

One of your best pieces yet, and tell Gentz the best stories are always slightly embelished.

neil said...

I enjoyed this 13 points worth. Congratulations!

Danielle said...

I love Gentz...he REALLY is a saint, plus one time he told me it looked like I had lost weight = he became my best friend. (Nevermind that we were running together that summer, so he probably felt it necessary to reinforce this activity....God love him.)

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