QUESTIONS
Don Lively

Over the past few months several events have occurred in my life that brought questions I had never heard before. Now I have heard some really odd questions along the way. When I tested for police academy I was asked "Have you ever attempted to overthrow the government of the United States of America?" Another question during the same process was, "Would you like to go on a hunting safari just for the pleasure of watching animals die?" But the worst one was, and I will paraphrase for the sake of a family newspaper, "Have you ever had a crush on any barnyard type creature?" I remember thinking, "Are these pertinent issues with police recruits in America?" I suppose the questions would not be there unless somebody at some point had answered "yes" to each of them. Hopefully, those folks were weeded out!

One of the strangest questions I was ever asked was at a little diner in southern Illinois. I was surprised to see that they had grits on the menu but I ordered them anyway. When the waitress brought my platter she asked "and I'm NOT making this up, "Would you like some honey for your grits?" Heaven forbid!

So strange questions are not new to me, but every now and then I am asked one that, to me, is original. Such has been the case recently.

I was on one of my frequent road trips and had driven to the New England area. I decided to stay in Freeport, Maine for a few days and I found a nice little inn just like I had always pictured in that part of the country. I walked up to the desk to check in and there was a very nice looking young lady working. I immediately went into what I thought was perfect Southern charm mode. She was extremely nice, very accommodating, and then out of the blue she asked "Would you like the senior citizen discount?" I don't know if she noticed my indignation. Suddenly I had a few questions of my own. "How old does this sweet young Yankee girl think I look?" "Did I age that much since I left the South a few days earlier?" "How foolish would I look if I darkened up my white goatee?" With those questions still swirling I asked her the most obvious one. "How much will I save?" She replied, "Around eighty dollars over three nights." "take it", I told her. I walked away a little bit deflated but also a little bit richer.

Three months later I was on another trip and I had in my possession my very first passport. Up to that point the only other countries that I had visited did not require one. But times have changed and I was now the proud owner of the little blue booklet. This time I was prepared for a brand new question. "May I see your passport?" I had looked forward to it for weeks getting my very first visa stamp on one of the pages and being sent on my way. Well, it didn't happen. The lady at the Canadian border asked me three inane questions and flagged me through. I almost went back and demanded a stamp! Oddly enough, when I returned to the U.S. I DID get asked for my passport. But it wasn't the same. I was coming home and not leaving!

The third question that I had never been asked before was another that I expected. This one I had known about for months and had tried to prepare for and be ready with a good answer. The question was, "Who gives this bride in marriage?" I had taken the short carriage ride with my youngest daughter, my baby girl, the first of my three to be married. We had circled the beautiful south Texas plantation and arrived to where the guests were waiting. I had helped her from the buggy and taken her arm in mine and had walked her down the stone walk to the gazebo and to the waiting arms of her soon to be husband. Then we were there and the walk was over. Then the question. I managed to get the prepared answer out, "Her mother and I, her sister, and her brother, currently serving in Iraq." I placed her arm into the hands of this young man who would now take my place. Then I turned and walked to my seat, no longer her protector, her shield against the world, but still, by the grace of God, her Daddy. As I sat down, in my mind I asked another question of my own, the same one I have asked many times in recent months.

"Where have the years gone?"

Don Lively is a retired police officer and freelance writer. He spends his time between Shell Bluff and Charleston. Send questions or comments to Livelycolo@aol.com.