GrowingOlderHopeWiser

A metaphor for her life

Breathless, she arrived at the testing site, barely making it in time. Elizabeth sat rigidly in front of the computer; to her left and right, younger students with equally anxious faces queued up at their computers. It had taken a year of hard work and study to reach this point. No longer a spring chicken, Elizabeth, at the ripe old age of 60, challenged herself to finally become a nurse like her aunts, a dream that had been put on hold for too many years. For some strange reason, at that very moment, she thought of Little Red.

Little Red was a 1963 Rangoon Red Ford Falcon Futura convertible with a red vinyl interior, bucket seats, and a ton of character. Elizabeth loved that ugly little car. Yes, ugly; by the time she bought the little gem in 1975 for $400, it had seen years of wear and tear. The black convertible top had a large slash across the back window, and the floor beneath the accelerator was a gaping hole big enough to fit your whole foot. Fortunately, the body was still intact, and it had all its original headlights, taillights, and mirrors. She had visions of what it could become after she restored it to its former glory and beyond.

Big dreams carry big challenges; her dreams of joining the Navy and becoming a nurse, like her aunts, were thwarted by the realities of her life. Her emotional attachment to her mother led her to make the rash decision to leave the comfort and guardianship of her great-aunt Mary. Her mother had convinced her that she would be better off living with her. Norma sold her a false ideal of life on Miami Beach, by the ocean, with palm trees and music drifting from the cafe. But the reality turned out to be living once again in a dysfunctional home with an overworked, angry mother, a raging alcoholic lunatic who was her mother’s friend, and a hyperactive, ADHD younger sister who did not slow down and would not listen to anyone. Elizabeth quit regular high school at 16. She lied about her age to get into an accelerated high school diploma program and took a quick two-week course to qualify for a cashier job. The Navy dream would have to wait; she felt obligated to support her family. 

After graduation, she took the Post Office test and scored 96%, qualifying her for a steady government job and, in effect, trapping her for thirty years. It took her 10 years to finally break free from her mother’s clutches and be on her own. Fear and anxiety kept her trapped for another 20 years. Unable to evolve, she wore down in body and spirit. 

Little Red was more than just a car. With freedom comes a price. Little Red was a safety hazard, especially on rainy days. Eventually, the convertible top tore even further, making it impossible to keep the rain from pouring in over her head, fogging her glasses, and rusting the floor even more, widening the gaping hole. One wrong move, and her foot could slip through the hole.

Elizabeth had big plans for Little Red, including replacing the roof and repairing the gaping hole in the car’s floor. She also wanted to customize it with red flames on both side panels and the doors. Naively, she thought she could eventually do the work herself! She pored over every classic-car magazine she could find.

The test had barely begun when the computer announced she was finished. Elizabeth was stunned. “Could it be I passed the State Nursing licensing test that easily?” she wondered. Yes! At the ripe old age of sixty, she became a qualified pediatric nurse. Little Red roared back to life.