His name
wasn’t “Flash” – that’s just what we called him.
Mr. Odell was
about 85 and he “jogged” down our street with his walker every morning and evening. It was doctor’s orders after a heart attack
and stroke (and about a dozen other life-threatening issues). He had moved in with his daughter and her
family, and he soon became a fixture on the streets of Gainesville, Florida.
Our kids
nicknamed him “Flash” one day. Although
he couldn’t hear two words if you were standing in front of you eyeball to
eyeball, Mr. Odell could hear your car coming six blocks away. He would pick up the walker and high-step it
onto the neighbor’s grass to get out of the way. He was not going to be an easy target!
Whenever he
passed our house on his morning or evening “jog”, if anyone was outside he
would stop and pass a few moments, telling us about his bride who was in
another state recovering from “her madness”.
Even in the most painful of life’s moments, Mr. “Flash” Odell had a
twinkle in his eyes and smile that made you wonder if he was teasing or
crazy. (Often, I thought it was both).
From our
conversations, Mr. Odell knew I was a pastor at a local church, and I knew he
was a retired accountant who really missed his bride. His days were lonely as his daughter and
husband both worked. The grandkids were
grown and rarely stopped in. So, our
little talks were brief, but often. He
would greet you with a smile, tell you about the squirrel he almost “flattened”
with his walker, and then move on down the street to finish his laps; morning
and evening, jogging with the walker.
Avoid even the appearance of Evil
That way the car would not
drip oil on the carport floor (keeping Mrs. Preacher happy) and I could work in
the shade.
One Sunday
after evening services at church I decided to get a jump on the week and change
the oil before retiring for the night.
The plan went well until the oil was changed, filter replaced, and I
tried to start the ailing Ford.
It
wouldn’t.
It was getting late, so I
decided to try again in the morning.
This was
where the appearance of evil came full circle at the Brownworth
parsonage.
Early Monday
morning the preacher’s bride, awake less than 30 seconds, sporting hair curlers
and pink robe with bunny slippers, ventured out the front walkway to retrieve
the newspaper from the front lawn.
Now, carrying
a full cup of coffee when you’re only marginally awake is never a good
plan. When the parson’s wife bent over
to pick up the paper, the hot coffee streamed over the pink robe and onto pink
hands. I won’t say what she said (I
wasn’t up yet), but I know it was loud and included sounds that you may only
hear when Dale Earnhardt fires up the monster engine of ol’ #83.
When the
screaming stopped, Elizabeth opened her eyes and realized she was standing eyeball
to eyeball with Flash. The old man’s mouth
was half-open, wondering if there was going to be another Archangel shout.
He stared at Elizabeth’s morning hairdo, coffee
stained robe and bunny slippers; then he noticed the Ford all “catawampus” hanging
off the carport floor.
He looked back at
Mrs. Preacher – then to the car again, smiled and said, did you come home drunk AGAIN last
night, honey?
I tell ya…you
can’t make this stuff up!
Today
Don’t take yourself so
seriously. But do avoid changing the oil
if you can’t start the car!
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