SURRENDER DOROTHY!

The Wizard of Oz won’t leave me alone. The story line, its characters, and themes have been showing up uninvited for quite some time. It’s weird since I’ve never been a huge fan. The most recent “Wizard” intervention came when I was channel surfing. Smoke letters were shooting out of the witch’s broomstick above the Emerald City spelling out a message. The trembling Tin Man was pointing toward the sky calling out the letters, “Sur-ren-der Dorothy!” A woman in the crowd yelled, “Who’s Dorothy?”

At this point in my life “surrender” means letting go of expectations and attachments, having faith in the outcome. In that framework, the meaning of this old familiar story changed dramatically. I’m starting to realize that every time the “Wizard” appears I learn something.

One Christmas many years ago I found myself alone, separated from my biological family because of disputes and disagreements. I wasn’t sad to be apart from them, just petrified to possibly spend the holiday alone. Because tradition and religious beliefs are installed by parents, searching for our own truths may require breaking away from the family at some point, mentally or physically. Remember the story of the prodigal son? The yellow brick road was my metaphoric spiritual path, and the road to find my true self was a great adventure.

I have a wonderful Godmother named Marlene that I call “Auntie”. She has seven kids but a heart big enough to add another. It occurred to me that she was my Auntie M. I was relieved to be included in her large family celebration but I still felt like an orphan because as they say, “there’s no place like home.” For now, home was an open road.

That Christmas was a sunny bitter cold day with temperatures dangerous enough to freeze your nostrils together. I didn’t dress properly. I never imagined I’d have to leave the warm car…

Before leaving town I stopped at the children’s bookstore I live above, aptly named Rainbowbooks. Joseph, the owner, pulled a hot new seller from the bookshelf to share with me. It was The Wizard of Oz pop-up book by genius Robert Sabuda. This fortune teller gave me fatherly advice, a holiday cookie for the trip, and sent me on my way.

After two hours I was passing my father’s hometown of Westfield. When I was a kid my family would stop at The Pioneer Inn for home cooking and a fresh slice of pie. It was always our halfway marker. I noticed a car on the side of the road with a flat tire. I felt sorry for the misfortune and plans thwarted. Seconds later my car started making a terrible noise. Whatever flattened the other tire just dug into mine. I’d never had a flat tire before. As I stepped out to check the damage the icy wind choked me and went right through my clothes. I jumped back into the car and called Auntie M. A drunken cousin picked up the phone and started laughing. No one offered to come help me because Santa was about to arrive. AAA’s line was busy. Back then, my antiquated cell phone was powered by my car, so if I ran out of gas before I got through, I would die in the cold. The only way to survive was to walk back to Westfield. I called Auntie’s house one more time and told my Godfather to keep calling AAA. He couldn’t hear me over the gift-ripping mayhem.

The valley between the highways was extremely wide and full of snow. The air was too cold to inhale. The wicked wind slashed like razor blades across my face and the sunlight blinded me. Chills pierced so deep my bladder started cramping. Walking made it worse. I didn’t think I could hold it much longer. I started to cry, turning back to the car. Just then a vehicle whizzed past so fast I wasn’t sure I saw it, but it kicked up a frosty dust cloud. Another car was coming out of the powder, skidding towards me. A man emerged, calling out to me as he approached. He was bow-legged and skinny with a large nose, weak chin, wearing an odd shaped hat with a chin strap. It was the highway Trooper. The first thing I said was, “did anyone ever tell you that you look like Ray Boldgers?” He replied sprightly, “All the time Ma’am, so what seems to be the trouble here?”

He drove me to the rest stop and called AAA. We waited for over an hour while he did all the talking. Before he spotted me, he was on a high speed chase hitting 110 miles per hour but couldn’t catch the speeder. That’s why I barely saw the car. He pulled over when he saw me reeling in the dust. I was happy to be safe and warm. His job was lonely and he enjoyed having someone to talk to.

The AAA driver came eventually and swiftly hooked my car on his tow truck. He was barrel-chested with thick strong legs wearing a cap slightly cocked to the side. He tossed me up into the cab and drove me back to Westfield. It was four miles away. I noticed a Mc Donald’s next to the Pioneer Inn. We passed a movie theater my father went to as a child. It was dilapidated and falling into the river. The Tin man took me to his garage to tinker with my tire and get me back on the road. The shop was oily. I read slimy magazines while waiting to be salvaged. Since we were alone he told me I could come into the garage and hang out with him while he worked. I thanked him for being available on a holiday. He was a single man without family and a business owner licensed by AAA to help stranded motorists in the area. He didn’t mind working on a holiday. I started to embrace my strange Christmas adventure. Being side-tracked was ok; I had surrendered to the plan. Only 45 minutes of road left to reach my destination.

Everyone at Auntie M’s was happy to see me. I wanted to scold them for not saving me, but they gathered around expecting to hear a story. I couldn’t believe they weren’t frantic or worried, but I did have a tale to tell. A strange man in the back of the room caught my eye. His hair was so long it blended into a full beard that grew from the top of his cheeks down into his chest hair. Auntie told me he was invited for Christmas because he was on his own this holiday. He was nervous around Auntie’s large rambunctious group and relieved to find another stray cat. He followed me everywhere I went, so I sat at the piano and he bravely joined in, singing Christmas songs for the family. It was lovely.

A few days later I took the road back home. My mind was calm and content because I knew the place called “home” was in my heart forever.

The End

…but I doubt it…