MAY DAY, MAY DAY

365 Days of Thanksliving — Day 220

Mayday! Mayday! We might have an emergency…

So, sometime last May—wait, scratch that, a year ago this past May (14 months ago)—the wifey and I took a trip out East to celebrate our daughter’s college graduation. For the most part, the vacation was an absolute blast. Well, most of it anyway, except for one harrowing reality check we partially witnessed.

While leaving the parking ramp well after the graduation ceremonies had ended, we noticed a massive commotion on the road we were trying to turn onto. All we could see was that a major accident had just happened, and someone was actively receiving CPR right there on the pavement. The street was flooded with emergency response vehicles: squad cars, multiple ambulances, even fire trucks. We were promptly directed to turn right and get the heck out of the way.

We learned later that afternoon that the man receiving CPR was a retiring sheriff’s deputy who had volunteered to do traffic control for the graduation. The officer had been intentionally struck by a man whose son had stolen a luxury vehicle the night before and run from the cops. Instead of surrendering, the kid shot at the officers and lost his life in the process.

The next day, the deceased derelict’s dad decided he was going to “show them” and intentionally run down an officer—any officer, the very first one he encountered. Little did that vengeful man know, the deputy he killed had just retired, leaving behind a grieving wife, children, numerous grandchildren, and a university completely at a loss for words.

Mayday! Mayday! We have an emergency at the UC Campus on the corner of Martin Luther King Blvd. Officer down!

I haven’t forgotten about that memory. Not one bit. Honestly, how could I—or anybody else who saw the tragic aftermath that day? I only share the heavy story because this afternoon, a memory of that trip revealed itself like long-lost “treasure” in the most unexpected of places: my glovebox.

Ready for a laugh?

Being cloudy and all, and with the chances of a true Midwestern thunderboomer in the forecast, my wife suggested a tried-and-true favorite for supper: tater-tot hotdish.

(Parenthetical side note for all ye non-Minn-eh-sō-tans out there in Just Jason blogland… it’s a HOTDISH, not a casserole. We’ve had this discussion before, and pllltthhhhh, we Minnesotans win!).

I suppose we could also argue about how "Duck Duck Goose" is actually "Duck Duck Gray Duck." And while we’re at it, we could debate which way the toilet paper roll goes: over or under. I won’t answer that last one; I don’t wanna incriminate myself. Ha!

Anywho, I digress. Squirrel!

So, we let the pups jump into the backseat, headed to the grocery store (spending way more than planned, naturally), and drove home. Now, I don’t know why—you’d have to ask her—but on the way, the wife decided to start digging around in my glovebox. It's not like I had anything hiding in there... or so I thought.

Next thing I know, she’s pulling out an archaeological dig of ancient road trip artifacts:

• Old snack packets: Treats we originally bought at Mike’s Discount Grocery in Comfrey before leaving for our trip East. This means those snacks were already outdated when we bought them 14 months ago. Yuck. (What does it say about the preservatives that they still looked perfectly edible?!)

• A solitary Chick-fil-A mayo packet.

• The pièce de résistance: A packet of Chick-fil-A Sauce that had apparently exploded in the glovebox at some point during the last four seasons.

Suddenly, she’s making a massive commotion trying to find napkins to clean her hands.

Mayday! Mayday! We kinda have an emergency…

Goodness, we started to laugh and laugh, trying to determine exactly how long those packets had been marinating in the dashboard. The wife, utilizing her most excellent deduction skills, determined it had to have been from that graduation trip a year ago this past May. Can you imagine the food-borne illness lurking in those packets had anyone actually tried to use them? I shudder at the thought.

Anyway, that little jaunt to the grocery store not only brought back memories but delivered a much-needed, deep belly laugh. And for both of those things, I’ve got to thank the Lord.

Truly, the last few days, I’ve just felt a bit melancholy. Part of it is certainly the allergens, part of it is "the tireds," and perhaps part of it is the US defeating themselves in the World Cup. (That last one… ehh… maybe, maybe not. IDK). Nevertheless, God knows exactly how to snap us out of our funks, and tonight I’m so thankful for that.

Thank you, God, for another aspect of our daily bread: giving us just what we need, right when we need it the most—even if it comes in the form of exploded dipping sauce.

Bless all my readers and friends this night, especially those of you who might be needing a bit of a pick-me-up just like I was.

What are you thankful for today? Drop me a line below.

Until I see ya on the flipside my friends, be well, knowing you are loved by me and the BIG MAN up top!