Making the Right Call

My fiercely independent, fiery-tempered, elderly aunt loved zipping around Los Angeles in her convertible sports cars, so it came as no surprise that she resisted handing over her car keys and relinquishing her freedom.

One day she bragged to my mom that even though she failed the eye exam for her driver’s license renewal and was now without a license, she was still driving. Even though my aunt told my mother not to tell anyone, Mom relayed the information to me by phone. I was horrified.

“Mom, you’ve got to tell Penny or David.”

“I’m not going to get involved. She’d get mad at me.”

“But what if she hits someone?”

Lengthy silence. “Well—I never thought of that. I better call Penny.”

My cousin Penny in Perth, Australia, contacted her brother David, in Tacoma, Washington, who flew to Los Angeles to chat with his mom, and then sold the cars. Soon after that, my aunt moved into a retirement community.

My aunt’s cars were replaced with a shiny, candy-apple-red scooter, which she zipped around the retirement home’s small parking lot. Age and a different set of wheels didn’t dampen her fun. And her family was able to breathe a sigh of relief.