Life on a Two Lane Road
Usually when a four lane highway is narrowing to two lanes there is plenty of notice in advance. Signs point out the change far from when it actually happens, and arrows painted on the road itself reinforce the notion that changes are upon you and you’d better merge or be left hanging. However, life is usually not so cooperative. I, like most human beings, have had life narrow the highway with little notice any number of times. Up until recently the most traumatic occurred when I walked into the general manager’s office at the Sharjah Sports Club and was handed an envelope. When I opened it I was jolted to the reality that I was now unemployed. That has happened to many of you at some time or other, but when you and your family have sold everything and moved halfway around the world, the jolt is a little more noteworthy. However, once over the shock and assessing the fallout I picked up the pieces of a shattered ego and moved on. From there it took the better part of six months for a path to become clear and the road to return to a four lane interstate highway. I took part time opportunities for a few months and then was hired for a coaching and teaching job in a good place, which served to sustain the family and soothe the bruised ego.
Years later before I was intending to retire, the school district in which I was employed suddenly made the decision that hiring a newly graduated unscarred face for $35,000 was a superior idea to employing one with the scars of years of battle for $65,000. They offered $45,000 to walk away and gave us two weeks to get our affairs in order and decide. It took me two minutes.
A couple of months ago I was again notified that my services were no longer needed. There were no signs posted to warn of the narrowing of the road but suddenly the four lanes disappeared and I was negotiating an uncharted path through the tangle of trees and vines that is life uncharted. There was no GPS system to guide me through the swampy forest or the cacti filled desert. The stares of the locals who may have previously negotiated the narrowing and widening of their highway become a flat tire on that lonely stretch of that weed covered path. In life there are few things more awkward that seeing a friend suffering pain and have no means of applying salve to the wound. Open the trunk of the car (ok the boot of the car) and find no jack or spare tire. Grab the cell phone and discover the battery is dead.
Sitting on the bumper of the car with little hope of the tow truck rolling to the rescue the questions are overwhelming and the answers are nonexistent. The unknowns are alligators peering out of swampy waters or rattlesnakes under a desert rock. The map gives no concrete direction and the GPS leaves you stuck on the roundabout with no exits. The only solution is to kick the damn tire, throw the tire iron back into the trunk (boot) and walk, following the remains of the path ignoring the alligators and the snakes. The alternative is to bitch to the vultures circling above and await the solution which will not come.
After stumbling on hidden rocks and getting twisted up in the vines I have plotted a pathway from the desolate spot in which I was trapped and emerged into the place where the path diverges into more traveled options. I’m a long way from the four lane, but the traffic is picking up and the signs all point to the interstate which I’m certain is just on the other side of the Blue Bridge. It may be farther and there may be wrong turns ahead facilitated by poor signage but those hurdles are ones which can be overcome. Throughout the ordeal I have discovered on constant. Just make sure that the boot has a spare and jack handy and that the phone is fully charged. That lonely path awaits all of us and the tires are dangerously well worn.