BELL RINGS

It was an incident that should have been frightening, aggravating, worrisome, and time-consuming; at best an expensive, enormous inconvenience.

Instead, it restored my faith in humanity.

Yesterday I met an angel. His name is Cecil, but I think of him as Clarence, aka, Clarence Odbody, the angel in the Christmas classic, It's A Wonderful Life.

I am leaving church with three of four kids. Cell phone rings.  Incoming number belongs to fourth child who could not possibly be at work yet, and would never use a cell phone while driving- unless she was in trouble.

 

I answer: "What happened? Are you OK?"

A split second decision- while driving on an unfamiliar road- has resulted in a minor collision.  Daughter's in tears, but fine; unless you count the rather large amount of trouble that she is in with me.

I arrive at the city intersection where she is supposed to be, and discover her car in a parking lot across the street. My teenager is standing beside a very large man. Neither appear to be hurt. The man looks about as happy as I feel.

Disclosure: I am sick (day four of a ten day 'flu') and exhausted (Husband has been out of town for a week  of highlights that include flu and sports injuries.)  I am supposed to be driving to Saratoga Springs, NY, right after church. In essence, I am ticked.

I give my daughter a hug, then reach for the man's hand and introduce myself. He is going to launch into a furious diatribe on inexperienced teenage drivers, I am certain. Instead, he holds my hand a few seconds too long for a first meeting. "It's all right. No one is hurt," he says. "Cars are bumped up a bit, but that is a big nothing in the grand scheme of things, right?"

The question is rhetorical. What Clarence, I mean Cecil, is really saying is, "Calm down. I know what that look in your eyes means, lady. Take a breath and get some perspective."

While I check out the damage to the cars, Cecil pats my kid on the shoulder- soothing her nerves with his gentle manner. He tells us that the very same corner of the car that is now scratched and dented was just fixed last Friday. But it doesn't matter. "My son recently fell down five flights of stairs and broke his leg and ankle," he says. "My wife and I- married fifty years- we just beat her cancer. Those things matter. Not this." 

 

Somewhat incredulous, I stand waiting for the one-two punch; police to arrive or this gentle man to start limping- and complaining that his neck is beginning to hurt. 

 

The answer to my cynicism arrives when a third car pulls into the lot, and a man steps out proclaiming, "I'm the guy who witnessed the accident."

Perfect. I shake Good-Samaritan-Who-is-About-to-Wreck-Everything's hand and introduce myself. I am thinking of the phone calls I will soon have to make to an annoyed insurance company representative- and a member of the police.

 

Cecil intercedes. "Thank you sir, but we're all set here. This is no big deal."

The witness looks at us, mirroring the expression he must see on my face. "You know, this is the way things used to get done," he says, wistfully. "Neighbors watching out for neighbors." He leans toward me and adds, "I have a teenage daughter, too. Glad for you that there is still some sanity in the world."

Sanity in my world is a lovely, 75 year old man named Cecil: a man who had just left a visit with his invalid son and was heading home to pick up his wife- for his birthday lunch- when one of my cars collided with his.

 

Early this morning I called Cecil to tell him that I had been in touch with the body shop that needs his car back for repair. I thanked him again for his kindness, and told him that yesterday he was both a birthday boy, and my hero.

 

Cecil shrugged off my gratitude, saying, "All my life I just tried to do the right thing."

I put down the phone.  And wrote down the words.

In It's a Wonderful Life, the angel Clarence shows a despondent George Bailey the many lives he has touched, the countless contributions he has made to his community, and how different life would be had he never been born. Clarence tells George: " Each man's life touches so many other lives."

For an hour yesterday, life morphed to movie set.  My child collided with an angel named Cecil, and his simple, profound philosophy of life- transformed my world-weary cynicism into hope for humanity

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My challenge shall be to remain changed by our chance meeting: to hear his voice, recall his serenity, and engage his perspective in moments of crisis: to continue to try and do the right thing- all the while understanding that, to our big old nasty world- it might not mean much.

To people like me, however, it means the world. 

QUING Hereby Decrees.  "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings." Saving my bell for Cecil.