Susan WonderStone's Blog

Back in 1998 before my dad’s funeral, there were a couple of other wakes going on at the same time. The one I’ve been thinking about recently was for a young woman, I seem to remember she was about 19. She had only been married a few months. She was going to make chocolate chip cookies and had asked her new husband to pick up the chocolate chips on his way home. Whether she was specific or not, I’ll never know, but she got upset when he came home with the wrong type of chips. We never know what else is going on in someone’s head, but I doubt it was just about the chocolate chips. She was angry and crying when she left to go back to the store to get what she wanted. Distracted driving… I don’t know if it was the rain or the tears, but when she entered the freeway, there was already a semi in the lane she was merging into. She partially drove under the semi, then was rolled and run over by the back tires. The pictures at the wake showed her mangled car.

So much life ahead of her. She left angry. Her husband will remember the happy times, but will probably always remember the last time he saw her. Upset and crying over something that was important to her at the time, but so trivial in the grand scheme of things.

I’ve been guilty of getting upset over things that don’t matter a year later, or even a week or a day later. Our attitudes really are a choice. I have no room in my heart for guilt or regret. I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon, but nobody knows how much sand is left in their hourglass. Every time I go to sleep, I know it may be the last. Every time you walk away, I know it may be the last time I see you. Regardless of what you’ve done or haven’t done, I love you anyway. Regardless of what I’ve done or haven’t done, I love me… anyway.

Coming into the US at the busiest border crossing, may not be any different than any other, but since I haven’t crossed anywhere else, I don’t know.  Since I’ve been to the hospital 5 times, I know the routine.  Certain things don’t come across the border.  Certain things are not talked about, even in the line.  Rumor has it the border patrol personnel have bionic ears or high powered audio they can hear everything better than dogs can.  Answer only the questions asked. Brief, to the point answers.  No additional words.   After seeing the headliner, all the door panels and the seats completely destroyed in a car sent to secondary, you know they mean business.  The last thing you want is to make a joke or stupid comment and have your friends car ripped apart, just because they can.

It had just rained.  All of the vendors were out, to sell what they could.  The fruit looked so good.  So did the churros, but I knew it would make me sick if I ate them.  After passing 3 fruit vendors, I told Thomas I wanted fruit.  He called someone over to the car.  Papaya, pineapple, mango and coconut.  All fresh.  $5 US.  The line started moving, I was beginning to think I was going to miss my fruit.  We had moved about 20 car lengths forward when the guy showed up at my window with a giant bowl full of fresh fruit.  This would be my cheat.  My food plan allows for ½ serving of fruit/day.  It was beautiful and scrumptious.   I made the decision to eat as much as I wanted.  Thomas and I ate and ate, using toothpicks to pick up the oversized chunks.  Aside from the vendors, there are people of all ages and issues panhandling.  Elderly women, people with limbs missing, children.  Three young boys came to the car. The youngest, about 6 years old, dumped some unidentified liquid all over my side of the windshield and started wiping it off with a squeegee.   Thomas was yelling at them in Spanish.  The kid finished, leaving dirty streaks in my field of vision.  He then walked around to Thomas’ window with the other two, demanding payment.  He refused, telling them they should have asked first. The boys were speaking quietly, but I did pick up a few words I learned from Hispanic kids in middle school back in Texas.  Wow. So young to have mouths like that.  After they left, Thomas told me how officials ask people not to give the kids money, because they won’t go to school if they can make enough money at the border to do what they want to do.  A little girl then came to his window.  She and Thomas spoke in Spanish.  When we would  move forward, she would hang on the door, lift her feet and ride with us.  She was cute.   7 years old, already using her feminine side attempting to charm Thomas into giving her money for a pop.  He gave her a piece of mango.  After about 5 minutes, she wandered off to another car, realizing it wasn’t going to work.  We were about 10 cars from the border when Thomas reminded me I couldn’t take the remainder of my fruit across.  I had already eaten all the coconut, so fished out the remaining pineapple with the toothpick.  I wanted to finish it, but I had already eaten lunch and just didn’t have more room.  I looked around.  The little girl was in the lane beside me about 2 cars back.  I kept looking at her.  She must have felt it, because she turned and looked at me within about 10 seconds.  She must not have been getting anywhere with the guy she was talking to since she immediately ran over to me.  Through multi cultural sign language I offered her the rest of the fruit.  She quickly accepted and said “thank you” in English.

The border patrol dog alerted her guy about something in the truck 2 vehicles in front of us.  She was pretty, but Thomas scolded me for staring.  I forgot I’m not supposed to look at anyone when they’re getting in trouble.  We might get accused of being associated with them.  Okay.  Our turn was next.  The guy came out of his little box, and put his hand up, telling us to stop and not move forward.  Thankfully we had already moved past the x-ray machine, so we wouldn’t get bombarded with radiation while waiting for the delay.  Several minutes later, another officer came over.  Shift change.  They spoke briefly.  The original officer walked away, the new one holding his hand up telling us to continue waiting.   Thomas mumbled about the additional wait.  I told him the new guy would be better.  Not supposed to make jokes, not supposed to laugh, not supposed to look through purse…So many things I wasn’t supposed to do.  Just knowing that made me laugh.   Finally we got the hand signal to pull forward.  Thomas handed the officer our passports.  He asked why we were coming to the US.  Thomas told him I had been in a hospital and was going home.  He was facing the open window.  I was looking toward him, but all I could see was black underwear behind his wide open button fly.  I wasn’t supposed to laugh.  He leaned over and looked at me.  He smiled.  I was already smiling, trying not to explode in laughter.  He stood up again, talking to Thomas.  I couldn’t hear what he was saying over all the laughing going on in my head.  Suddenly I said “Dude, I’m sorry but your fly is wide open and it’s all I can see from here.”  Thomas gave me “the look” as if saying “we are so busted! I can’t believe you said that!”  By then, the laughter was external.  I couldn’t help it.  The officer stepped into his booth, with our passports in one hand, buttoned himself up with the other.  He mumbled about hating the button ups.   Thomas glared at me.  I said loud enough for the officer to hear me “better than him discovering it after 300 cars passed through!”  He ran our passports and said “First car of the day…welcome to the United States.  Let me show you my junk.”  As he handed the passports back to Thomas, he thanked me for telling him, and said he wasn’t going to ask us any other questions, telling us to have a nice day.  The outcome could have been SO different!  Was it luck?  No, only good things happen to me.