So there's this town in Indiana. Martinsville. The racial makeup of the city is 97.5% White, 0.2% African American, 0.3% Native American, 0.4% Asian, 0.1% Pacific Islander, 0.5% from other races, and 1.0% from two or more races. Hispanic or Latino of any race are 1.3% of the population. (that comes right from Wikipedia) You can usually hear "Dueling Banjos" playing as you approach the town.
My wife had a daughter with a guy who lives there, about thirty something years ago. That daughter has had her share of issues, and the guy and his wife have taken her in lately. Let's call them Rick and Dee. Dee called my wife, and told her some stuff about this daughter, and my wife was concerned. She wanted to go down to Martinsville, and see if we could find her, and try and help.
Now, I don't like to go to Martinsville, because nothing good ever happens when we go down there. It's a sundown town, and for me, a scary place. We were also going to a nearby town to have lunch with my wife's daughter's daughter, our granddaughter, who now lives with her dad, and his wife, and has nothing to do with my wife's daughter. She is being raised right, and has a good, stable life.
I'm not going to tell you the whole sordid tale. Just a few highlights.
I didn't think it was very likely an Indiana State Trooper who we know was dispatched to the scene, and had three witnesses watch my wife get into his car was probably planning a rape and murder, so I went with the tow people, and she went with the officer. She asked him his name, and he said, "Trooper Johnson," and she said, 'well I'm bus driver Neuenschwander." (she's a school bus driver, and didn't take my last name, because it was too hard to spell.) I told her she should have said "my name is Lady-Who-Doesn't-Want-to-be-Raped-and-Killed-by-a-Trooper Neuenschwander, and then how we laughed!"
Anyway, it was such a horrible day, and I'll be paying for it for God knows how long, and I'll have to drive back down there to get my car, and we'll probably still have to follow up on the daughter and Granddaughter #2, and I could whine, and cry about it all day, except for the following:
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So welcome to real life, folks. That young lady is the spitting image of my wife, and she's in a good, solid home, and the worst grade she got on her last report card was a B. And I may be an ass, and I may be a jerk, and I may be less than perfect in about a million ways, but I will gladly pay $500.00 or more, even with my measly income, to see my wife have a moment that means that much to her.
My wife had a daughter with a guy who lives there, about thirty something years ago. That daughter has had her share of issues, and the guy and his wife have taken her in lately. Let's call them Rick and Dee. Dee called my wife, and told her some stuff about this daughter, and my wife was concerned. She wanted to go down to Martinsville, and see if we could find her, and try and help.
Now, I don't like to go to Martinsville, because nothing good ever happens when we go down there. It's a sundown town, and for me, a scary place. We were also going to a nearby town to have lunch with my wife's daughter's daughter, our granddaughter, who now lives with her dad, and his wife, and has nothing to do with my wife's daughter. She is being raised right, and has a good, stable life.
I'm not going to tell you the whole sordid tale. Just a few highlights.
- Dee is concerned about my wife's daughter's drug use
- My wife has always liked Dee
- Dee is no longer Dee, and Rick is no longer Rick (not that being Rick was all that great a thing to begin with)
- Dee and Rick are severe METH HEADS, with only a handful of teeth between them, who talk like some crazy old man you met up with in an Alabama back alley after being drunk on Sterno for thirty years or so
- We didn't get to talk to my wife's daughter, and we did a good bit of looking for her
- We didn't get to see our other granddaughter, who is currently in the custody of a woman who isn't much better than Rick or Dee
- I burned out the clutch in my Mitsubishi, and we got stranded on the side of Highway 37, at 3:00 in the afternoon
- By the time I convinced my cell carrier I had not, in fact canceled my roadside assistance; had them get a tow truck out; found a way to the airport in Indianapolis to get a rental car and get ourselves home, it was midnight
- We watched the sun go down while waiting for a tow
- I'm probably out about $500.00 over this whole thing
- We have no idea how bad off my wife's daughter is, or if we can help her
- We are presently out of contact with Granddaughter #2 still
I didn't think it was very likely an Indiana State Trooper who we know was dispatched to the scene, and had three witnesses watch my wife get into his car was probably planning a rape and murder, so I went with the tow people, and she went with the officer. She asked him his name, and he said, "Trooper Johnson," and she said, 'well I'm bus driver Neuenschwander." (she's a school bus driver, and didn't take my last name, because it was too hard to spell.) I told her she should have said "my name is Lady-Who-Doesn't-Want-to-be-Raped-and-Killed-by-a-Trooper Neuenschwander, and then how we laughed!"
Anyway, it was such a horrible day, and I'll be paying for it for God knows how long, and I'll have to drive back down there to get my car, and we'll probably still have to follow up on the daughter and Granddaughter #2, and I could whine, and cry about it all day, except for the following:
- Nobody died
- Nobody was seriously injured
- I'm home now
- and then the one really big important thing that makes it all worth it
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So welcome to real life, folks. That young lady is the spitting image of my wife, and she's in a good, solid home, and the worst grade she got on her last report card was a B. And I may be an ass, and I may be a jerk, and I may be less than perfect in about a million ways, but I will gladly pay $500.00 or more, even with my measly income, to see my wife have a moment that means that much to her.
