The alarm was set for 6
am. The plan was to be loaded up, coffee
in hand, and on the road out of Orlando by 7 am. You know what they say about the best laid
plans of mice and men? They often go
awry.
At 5:44 am my phone
rang.
Me: (sleepily) Hello?
Caller: My name is Marcy. I’m calling from your security company. At 5:22 am, two motion detectors were
activated in your son’s home. We’ve been
unable to reach him or his wife and you are third on the list to call. We’ve notified law enforcement and they are
on their way.
Me: (suddenly wide awake)
My son and his wife are with us. I will
let him know. Thank you very much!
Putting on some shorts and
a t-shirt I went through the living room, past my sleeping grandkids on the
fold-out bed, and knocked on the other bedroom door. My daughter-in-law opened it. My son had gotten the voice message from the
alarm company and was hastily signing onto his computer to look inside their
house via the security camera. “Uh Oh” he
said. “The door to the patio is open.”
My daughter-in-law had
already called her dad and he was en route to their house. He had checked out their home 12 hours
earlier, accompanied by one of his young granddaughters, and everything had
been fine. From the external security
camera, we could see the deputies drawing their guns and preparing to enter the
home. Then my son rewound the security
footage to see if he could identify whomever entered the home. Back he went to the previous evening when his
father-in-law had set the alarm after feeding the cat and checking the
premises. That’s when he noticed
something strange. The back door was
standing wide open when his father-in-law set the alarm and left the home the
previous evening. Mystery solved. No intruders were involved, except friendly
ones. Either his father-in-law or the
toddler granddaughter he brought with him had left the door open. At 5:22 am, the cat must have decided “Hey,
if they aren’t going to live in here anymore, then I believe I will” and
entered the premises, setting off multiple motion detectors and an ear-piercing
alarm, whereupon she decided maybe outside wasn’t so bad after all.
My daughter-in-law called
the security company and informed them her dad was on his way to the address,
but apparently that info did not make it to the investigating officers. As soon as he arrived on the scene, he was
treated as a suspect and questioned by the officers. In fairness to the officers, he shouldn’t
have been treated as a suspect. OFFICERS,
WE HAVE VIDEO EVIDENCE EITHER HE OR HIS YOUNG ACCOMPLICE DID IT!
Left the door open, that
is. Nothing was missing. Nothing had been disturbed (if you don’t
count my sleep).
Good thing we live in a
pretty safe country neighborhood. One
time when my wife and I came home from a trip one night early, two cars were
blocking our driveway before we even had the car unloaded in the garage. Neighbors had seen car lights headed down our
long driveway, knew we were out-of-town, and took action.
The rest of Day 10 was
easy compared to the first 30 minutes.
We were headed out of town, coffee in hand, shortly after 7 am. My wife was still in pain from her strained knee
and surgically repaired foot. She took a
pain pill and then added nausea to her list of woes.
 |
| Crews Repairing I-85 in Atlanta |
We encountered the
remnants of Tropical Storm Cindy near Macon, but the traffic was fairly light
through normally nightmarish Atlanta.
Kudo’s to the Georgia Dept. of Transportation. A massive, intentionally-set fire in March had
collapsed a bridge, closed I-85 in both directions, and created a monstrous
commuter problem. It was originally hoped
the highway could be reopened by June 15, the very day we were to leave home
for Florida. In fact, the highway was opened
a month early on May 15. Thank you,
thank you, thank you!!! I will never
cuss your cones again.
After a long day on the
road, we pulled into a Marriott Fairfield Inn in Clarksville, Tennessee, a mere
6 hours from home. Anybody remember the
Monkees’ song “Last Train to Clarksville?”
I do. I was taking Basic Training
at Fort Benning, Ga. when it was popular.
One morning, a fellow soldier who I will describe as "large" and “not a morning
person”, told me if I didn’t shut my mouth and quit singing “Last Train to
Clarksville” when he was trying to wake up, he would take
it upon himself to shut it for me. Ah,
nothing like recalling those good old Basic Training memories. Here is a clip of the Monkees singing the song that nearly got me killed:
One more night.
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