I am well known for my lack of direction and geographical ineptitude. While playing the role of navigator on a recent road trip, I insisted to my husband that "driving the blue line" would be the quickest way, to which he replied patiently "sweetie, that is a river".
He insists my maiden name - Wilding- means "lost in the wilderness" (actual meaning: wild savage) and that our family crest is a map with latin letters reading "where are we?" written across it.
I blame my absent sense of direction and inability to read maps or recognize topographical clues on Jimmy Wong. Jimmy was my seat mate in grade nine geography, presided over by Mr. Desjardins, who wore brown polyester slacks, a dress shirt and a green cardigan every day. As Mr. Desjardins was rattling on about sediment layers and bathymetric features, Jimmy, while appearing to listen intently, would make witty and extremely funny remarks under his breath, his lips not appearing to move at all. I often could not contain my laughter, and would guffaw out loud, seemingly at Mr. Desjardins fascinating explanation of plate tectonics. This, more often than not, resulted in me, but not Jimmy, spending the rest of the class in the hallway.
I was quite happy to sit outside the classroom and read a book, not realizing I was missing out on a future where I would have the ability to execute a journey involving maps, to discern which way is north, or to recognize where I am by the analysis of my natural surroundings. So no thanks to Jimmy, I blithely blunder through the world, never knowing quite where I am or where I am going.
My husband has become accustomed to frantic late night calls for directions.
"I am on Hern line and have come to a four way stop and I’m not sure whether to go straight through or turn left or right.”
He is so patient. “You need to be heading south.”
I am not so patient. “Is that straight ahead, or left, or right?” I snap.
“I don’t know sweetie. I need to know which direction you are facing.”
“Well how should I know?” I snap. “You are no help at all.”
And with that I promptly cut off the call, like a drowning woman throwing the life preserver back at her would-be rescuer.
The invention of GPS has not been in my aid. On a recent journey my husband entrusted his iPhone and the use of “Waze” to me, and I had us driving in the exact opposite direction, believing the small moving icon that represented our vehicle was a comet, with the tail blazing behind it. I did not realize it was a searchlight, and we should be headed towards the light.
My life seems to play out like my sense of direction. I wander through it without any purpose or destination. I fear that when it is my time to depart this world, and my friends and relatives gather around my death bed, and encourage me to “head towards the light”, I will still have absolutely no idea which way to go.
This is hilarious, Helen and you just KNOW I understand and relate to every bit of it. I am amazed at those who are good with directions - but you and I, we have other skills that are much more fun.
(P.S. Jimmy sounds great!)
You are no less than amazing... Even if you are 'mislead'.
You will always be my beacon... Of strength, love and guidance. 🌠