Periwinkle
Chronicles, tales of the citizens of Periwinkle [because all the other colors
were already taken] County…
A Black Friday Miracle
Most people shop for clothes or toys on Black Friday. Marcella Corella bought a new car.
She took her father, Jubillo Corella, with her and went to Herschel Feinberg’s “Cars The Way They Ought to Be Emporium.” Herschel has been stockpiling out-of-print cars for years—Studebaker, Packard, Nash, Desoto, Hudson—cars that were built the right way, meaning they were built long ago, since anything manufactured a long time ago, according to old people, which Herschel is, is better than anything manufactured more recently. Reluctantly and sorrowfully, he has now begun to store new Mercurys, Pontiacs, Oldsmobiles, and Plymouths.
Since she was 2 years old, which was 48 years ago, Marcella has wanted a Hudson but felt it was too much car for her, so she settled for Hondas, since they also start with “H,” and with gasoline. Since she hit 50, though, she has decided she needs a grown-up car. She really wanted that Hudson, the same type her grandmother used to drive in stock-car races when she was a teen, but her father favored a Plymouth, since Herschel won’t sell you a car unless you can justify your choice historically.
“I know it’s not quite as grown-up,” he said, “but think of the historical implications. Think of Plymouth Rock.”
“Yes,” she countered, “but think of Hudson Bay and the importance of the fur trade.”
Herschel was satisfied and sold her the Hudson, a sparkling green Hornet. What with Herschel calling in all the mechanics to help him decide whether the settling of Plymouth Rock or the Hudson Bay fur trade had been more important to the development of American literature, especially when Yogi “Bear” Ypsilanti, the new Mercury mechanic, stuck the necessity of Desoto’s discoveries into the discussion, since he’s irritated because he always has to argue the issue of the planet Mercury v. the fluid mercury, the transaction took four hours. All this time, Marcella’s mother, Florella, and her friend, Antonina Giuliani, and her other friend, Rudolpho Randino, were waiting anxiously to see what car she came back with.
Marcella had driven half-way into the garage when her mother, Florella, waved her down.
So Marcella stopped the car where it was and got out to help Florella and Antonina and Rudolpho admire it. Just then Mrs. Ipsophacto from next door came out. She had not seen Marcella for a long time and held out her arms for a hug. Marcella ran to her, forgetting that the garage door opener was in her pocket, and as they hugged, the opener got compressed between them, and the big heavy garage door began to come down on Marcella’s brand new old car.
“Stop it!” cried Rudolpho. “Stop the garage door!”
He ran to it and tried to push it back up but it kept descending.
“It doesn’t have one of those automatic stoppers,” screamed Marcella.
“Jump into it and back it out further,” shouted Jubillo, Marcella’s father.
“I can’t,” said Marcella, who is an English teacher. “If it’s distance, the word is ‘farther,’ so it would be wrong to back it out ‘further.’”
“Help Rudolpho push the door up,” yelled Antonina.
“I can’t,” said Mrs. Ipsophacto. “I hate his mother. She once insulted my baked persimmon brie.”
But suddenly the door stopped dead.
“It’s a Black Friday miracle,” shouted Florella.
“It’s a sign from God,” said Jubillo. “She prefers Hudsons.”
“I don’t think the smashed chipmunk in the track thinks it’s a miracle or a sign from God, either one,” observed Antonina.
***
Golden Persimmons are awarded to Mary Beth Connolly, Chris Rander, Jennifer Jackson, and Helen Karr McFarland, since the similarity between happenings in Periwinkle County and events in other places is rarely coincidental.
[“Christ in Winter,” reflections on faith for people in the winter of their years, can be found at http://christinwinter.blogspot.com/]
You can find John Robert McFarland’s tweets on Twitter @yooper1721.
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