“When we shut one door, often another opens ahead of us. However, it also true that the next door needs shutting as well.” Guinn Sweet, December, 2010
Yes, Virginia, we shut another door of the past 25-30 years this past weekend. Colon has kept an RV parked at the Texas coast for the past number of years I have indicated. We failed in the purchase of a permanent home in Port O’Connor when a divorcing couple couldn’t come to terms with each other enough to get the legal aspects of the sale completed to anyone’s satisfaction.
To Colon’s “fisherman mentality” that meant that we should rent a spot at Charlie’s Bait Camp on Lane Road, right on the waterfront. Of course, the rent was too high and continued through the winter months when he couldn’t be there to go fishing, but being the good wife that I have always been (huh!) I began to live more frugally so that we would have the money when the rent was due.
Over the ensuing years, several of Colon’s “fishin’ buddies” took turns at paying the rent on specific months, according to a schedule he fixed up for them. Well, desires wax and wane for fishermen, just as for everyone else. Things went well, some dropping out and others picking up the monthly payments. In return, these friends were allowed the unencumbered use of the RV as they desired.
In the past two years, that number of helpers has gone the way of the economic trend, and we were left with just three-to-four who stayed faithful on their months to pay. Well, three of them did, the other one had to be hounded, brow-beaten and threatened, but he always came through, however late – until this month. To add to the fuel of my aggravation at his reluctance to pay his due, he was the one who used the facility the most often during the year.
The time had come for another payment and none came. No phone calls returned, no answering of any kind, so Colon decided to close the door on the RV use! I had been praying for him to make that decision since forever, but recently (the last two years) he has been able to go to the coast only one time. I suggested(!) that we sell it. He gave in and we spent a couple of days last weekend after Thanksgiving at the coast, trying to sell the thing, but that failed. No one is buying RVs at the coast right now!
We thought we would just have someone, who does those things, to pull it up to Fairfield and we would park it in our pasture until someone came along to buy it. We bought a “For Sale” sign.
No one is moving RVs at this time of the year, so that door closed. An owner of a parking lot at Port O’Connor advised us to have it moved and salvaged and sell it by parts. No luck. We made some calls to prospective “salvage men,” but no luck. We decided we would go home and pray that the situation be settled in God’s will. On the way home, through Seadrift, we stopped for some gas. I just happened to mention our dilemma to the clerk at the convenience store. As a matter of fact, she said there was a young man in town who did that sort of work as a second income, and asked me how much we wanted for the RV.
By that time, I was totally wanting it out of my life, so I said, “He can just have it for nothing if he can move it this week.” Famous last words. He called Coleen before we got home (I had left her number because I couldn’t remember our new one) and it was the clerk’s son. He wanted the RV. Sight unseen.
We had already emptied the RV of all the personal stuff – kitchen and bedroom stuff – and had it in the car, so there was no reason we needed to go back, so we took care of the details on the phone and by mail (sending the title). He made arrangements to haul the thing out this week and clean the parking pad and Colon doesn’t have to see the removal of his precious RV, but he did cry a little that he wasn’t getting any money.
The last of the story, which turned out great once we gave the Lord permission to take over the reins, did have one kink in the ending. I told Colon to get the things, tooth brushes, combs and our two pill cases, etc., off the bathroom cabinet just before we closed the door. He didn’t. I hope Medicare will pay for early refills if the young man doesn’t mail them.
Contact Index columnist Guinn Sweet at email@example.com.