Blessings and
Curses
by
Dick Prosapio © 2006
As we walked out of the Cracker Barrel in Pueblo,
Colorado where I had just polished off my favorite roast beef
dinner, which, by the way, isn't as good as it used to be, I noted
the sign posted on the steel light pole just behind our car; "A
neighborly warning, please do not leave valuables in your car."
"Right.." I began, "we're supposed to carry them
into...." which is when I saw the look of awful disbelief on
Elizabeth's face. As I rounded the front of the car to her I already
knew, glass lay like hail all over the ground beneath the right rear
door, "Your camera!" she cried, "The computer!" I added.
.....and it went on from there. All my carefully
crafted CD collection, about a hundred of them, all the great stuff
brought along for road music, most of it irreplaceable of course.
"And our bags!" They had gotten it all, both our
traveling bags in which we carried not only our "sundries" shaving
stuff, hair dryer, clothes, toothpaste, etc, but also all our
jewelry, among them the special watch band I had made for Elizabeth
years ago, the silver and turquoise band I'd given my father about
fifteen years ago, my collection of silver and turquoise rings,
about four of them, two bolos, two bracelets, a belt buckle I'd had
for twenty years and another my middle daughter gifted me with last
birthday.and my Canon Rebel with both lenses, and so on; and,
unfortunately, so on. All that was left were our "tools of the
trade", my tarot cards and Elizabeth's drawing supplies.
The manager, somehow it seemed he was aptly named,
being one "Charlie Brown", commiserated. it was after all, all he
could do. We called the gendarmes, the Pueblo City Police who showed
up about thirty minutes later and took down the disaster details and
offered little hope except to say, "There's been a whole lot of this
going on lately."
Our misery was "accompanied" at least.
After the details were covered we raced over to
the nearest Wal Mart, yes, that port-in-the-storm, and grabbed the
minimums, underwear, socks, razor and blades, etc. Then up to
Colorado Springs to prepare for the fair we were to do the next day.
We comforted each other with the mantra "At least
they didn't take the car!" and that was comfort indeed. I made a
note to have our genius mechanic Neil put in a "kill switch" as soon
as we returned.
Little by little we began to go over contents,
both of us had our medications in those bags too. Elizabeth had
about twelve or fifteen bottles to help her cope with a prolonged
menopause, I had only one essential, good ol' "Terazosin" the magic
pill that kept my prostate in check so I didn't have to get up
unlimited times every night to drip into a toilet over and over
again.
But we figured we could cope.
The blessings began with the telling of the tale,
especially the next day at the fair. So many kind hearts and so much
compassion. It felt like family. Actually better than family. Nice
indeed.
It all began on Thursday night and we began work
on Friday with the hope that perhaps the fair would be very busy and
we could recoup some of our losses, the memory of which continued to
weigh us down. That Canon digital SLR was the best camera I'd ever
had. How could I ever afford another? And the iBook, nearly new and
perfect for all I was doing, etc.
Unfortunately the fair was the slowest we had ever
seen. No "recouping" much of anything this time.
But even larger problems loomed. By Saturday night
the fact that I wasn't taking my meds any more began to tell. I was
trying to pee but wasn't being very successful at all, and as the
night wore on I was up every hour, straining to empty my bladder. It
was getting painful and I was getting no sleep.
In the morning we decided I would have to find an
emergency clinic somewhere and get some capsules quick. There was
one in the neighborhood and they were open at 8, I was there at
7:30.
I saw one receptionist who took the data, one
nurse who took my blood pressure and one doc who filled my
prescription without any ado. "Seven is all I need." I told him. I
had already called the VA in Albuquerque and they would put the meds
in the mail so I would have them when I got home....they spaced it
and didn't by the way.
Next we found a Walgreen's open all night store
and picked up the seven pills. Then off to the final day of the fair
where, mid-morning, I received a call on my cell phone, "Can I speak
with Elizabeth Prosapio?" She's working right now." I responded.
"Well this is (indistinct) at the American Furniture Store in Pueblo
and we have her bag here."
"What?"
"A customer found this bag in the parking lot and
brought it in to us and we have it here."
"How did you find us?"
"I looked up the name on the prescription bottles
on the Internet and called your house and got the cell phone number
off your message."
"My God! Thank you! We'll be down tomorrow to get
it."
There was more effusiveness than this, but you get
the picture.
Over the next twelve hours the meds began to work
for me and I could function, and sleep, again, and early the next
morning we were ready to race the forty-miles to Pueblo to see if
there was anything left in the bag. Except that there was
construction between us and our goal and we became lost in Colorado
Springs.and there the compassion continued. Elizabeth went into a
convenience store to get directions and while she was inside I
noticed a guy walk out and get into his car. She returned and we
pulled out onto the street we had just come in on, the directions
were that we should return the way we came, and suddenly the guy I
had seen pulled in front of us and motioned us to follow. He then
led us all the way to the freeway on-ramp and then went on his way.
Nice.
We walked into the furniture store in Pueblo and
the receptionist handed Elizabeth her bag with everything in it just
as she had packed it. Nothing missing, no; not even her jewelry.
Elizabeth was close to tears. The receptionist would not hear of a
reward. "No, no. I'm just happy you got it back."
Very nice indeed.
Days later; I've gotten another computer from a
seller on eBay and have ordered a new camera, more gap filling. But
the jewelry is gone, and all of it irreplaceable. My father's
watchband and a ring I bought fifty years ago, a one-of-a-kind
type.....well, I still mourn them.
And the CD's. That's another tough one. Some of
them were commercially recorded and I have found them on Amazon and
elsewhere. But there were several that were collections I made up
especially for our pleasure; one of my old collection of 45 RPM
records, all of which I sold on eBay months ago. But one in
particular I will miss more than all the rest. It was a radio
broadcast of a concert done by the El Paso Symphony Orchestra and
the UTEP Jazz Lab Band about twenty years ago. It was one of the
most electrifying jazz performances I have ever heard. It so stunned
the live audience that when the music ended (The Channel One Suite)
there was a moment of complete silence before they erupted into a
roar of applause. I've contacted the University radio station and
even the El Paso Symphony offices to see if any archival tape
survives of that one, but no luck. It will be one of those
experiences locked in my memory, but inexpressible to anyone else. I
mourn this one as I would the death of a dear friend. I know that
sounds a bit over-the-top, but I keep looking for that CD in the
same way I still look for John who died over a year ago. You know,
that sudden over-the-shoulder glance at someone you think is the
departed one.
The cops called to say they have a video of the
event, a truck pulling up, opening a door to shield the break-in
from view and then gone.all in thirty seconds. Pros.
I did manage to get one thing I never knew I'd
miss, my old, and I do mean "old" Schick Injector razor. I found a
facsimile on the Internet and ordered it and the blades the same
night I bought the computer. We had picked up a new razor during our
scramble to get "stuff" the night of the robbery, but I just cannot
cope with the multi-blade razors that pass for shaving progress
these days. Oh, they shave fine, but it takes the power of a fire
hose to clean them of debris. And that old Schick shaved me just as
well for fifty-two years......so I found one and will feel slightly
more back-into-my-personal-groove when I have it in my (new) travel
bag.
Lessons? Never, never park in the back row of a
parking lot. And leave the jewelry at home. I'll just wear what I
like. And maybe I'll carry my computer and camera into the next
restaurant. I don't know what to do about the CD's yet.
Oh, and one other thing, there's lots of love
available in the world......an important thing to know when it seems
all else has gone to hell.....representative of which was the bill I
got from that quick visit to the emergency care office. A visit of
about twenty minutes: $289.00.
I'm appealing that one.
