Car Thief?

Would it surprise you to know that a Holy Joe like me could be a car thief?

A while back, I was spending a couple of weeks taking classes in Florida and needed a vehicle to make a few trips around town. My good friends John and Barb kindly offered me the services of their van. The problem was that they were out of town.

No problem! They said their son would put the keys under the front door mat and the van would be in front of their house. I could come pick it up anytime.

My friend Joe even volunteered to drive me to John & Barb's house. I had printed directions . . . except . . . and this is key . . . I left OFF the last page that had their actual street address. Step by step, the directions led me to their very street but I had to guess which was their actual van/house. "This will be easy!", I thought.

Joe and I slowly drove down the street. Eventually, we spotted a white van. We checked the mat by the front door and sure enough the keys were there. I took them and fired up the van. As I was adjusting the seat and mirrors I looked in the back of the van. If was full of strange mechanical equipment. I know John is a handy guy but this was weird. I told Joe, "I don't think this is John's van!"

Just then, the front door opened and a lady came out, "Jeff said you'd come by to pick of the van." Jeff!?! I didn't know a Jeff! Sheepishly, we returned the keys to her and suggested there might have been a mix up. Good thing, because just as we were walking away a big burly guy, presumably named Jeff, came out and saw that we were certainly NOT HIS friends. We quickly jumped in Joe's car and got moving.

A little more searching down the street brought us to a red van. Yes, the keys were under the mat by the front door. This proved to indeed be the van owned and operated by John & Barb and, with much relief, I took possession of it.

However, as I was heading out, I was wondering, "Is there a chance that I am, in fact, a car thief?" I cannot deny that I actually took possession of a stranger's vehicle, just for a minute or two. And although I returned it immediately, I'm concerned that technically, according to a strict interpretation of the law, I stole a van. I hope Jeff is a reasonable guy because my finger prints are all over that vehicle.

Possible next blog: "Life from Prison!"

Nelson Mandela

I've decided that I really like biographies and autobiographies. My sister gave me two for Christmas and one was the autobiography of Nelson Mandela ("A Long Walk to Freedom"). I thoroughly enjoy it. Mandela has had a compelling life and is not a bad writer either. This great South African Freedom Fighter dedicated his total life to the emancipation of minorities in his country. I think I read somewhere that South Africa was the only country to transition power in such a way without civil war. Yes, there was sporadic violence but not widespread bloodshed. Governmental transitions are rarely so smooth. A lot of credit for that goes to Mandela. For most of his career he advocated non-violence but later he felt that sabotage (of infrastructure, not people) would put the needed pressure on the white government for change. Of course, he later served as President of South Africa.

I have three rather selective observations about his life.

First, He endured 27 years in prison. It is a testament to his spirit and those of his companions that they were able to face the great hardships and brutality with such indomitable perseverance. Certainly it is the loss of hope that truly condemns a person in prison to a kind of living death. Mandela and his companions were innovative and tireless in the different ways they coped, communicated, or fought for greater privileges. He began writing his autobiography during this time.

Second, an amusing story. Prior to his incarceration, and during the time he ran the ANC's military wing (sabotage) he was on the run, hiding in many different places and situations. An odd African habit nearly got him caught. Evidently, some Africans like sour milk, also called amasi. This is essentially unpasterized milk left in the sun to curdle. Mandela was hiding in a comrade's apartment in a white neighborhood. He left a glass bottle of milk on a sunny window sill to curdle and become creamy. He later overheard two Zulu workers comment that it was strange to see milk on the window sill because whites don't drink amasi. It was a close call and he learned to be more careful.

Finally, Mandela sacrificed his marriages for service to his country. I did not know previously that Mandela was twice married and divorced. He admits in his autobiography that he was "married" to his country rather than to his families but this was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He worked constantly and tirelessly for freedom, but could he have done it with out ignoring his family? That's a tough question. Many "great" men have wrestled with that one.