When Susan and I had arrived in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania, for my sister Carol’s funeral, she remarked on the courtesies we had received en route, she with her arm in a sling and I with my cane, but the best was ahead.
After we checked into the Hilton Garden, I went back to the parking lot to get my bag. I found our rental car by opening the trunk with the button on my key. I reached in, grabbed my bag and yanked it out. The bag came easily, but it was heavy and took me to the concrete with it.
(One of the problems for old guys in taking a fall is that it’s impossible to get up without something pull on. I don’t know now where my cane was.)
I lay there wondering what to do, until a small woman showed up and grasped my arm. She wasn’t strong enough to get me off my butt, so she called for her husband who came behind me and put his arms around my chest. He was no bigger than the woman, but together they got me on my feet. By that time their daughter had showed up, a head taller than her parents. By their appearance and speech, I took them to be Japanese.
We were all smiling as I thanked them. It was fun to see them at breakfast next morning. We all smiled some more.