Impetuosity has been the childhood disease I’ve never conquered. Tomorrow was always too late and whatever it was I wanted, I wanted it yesterday. The Grande Old Dame that occupies my office space is well aware of that. When matters are not under my control I found it difficult to practice that little virtue called self-discipline. It has been whispered, in family circles mind you, that there was a wager about who would survive. Would the Third Reich survive Elsa? Or could Elsa survive the Third Reich. For some unknown reason words keep tumbling out of my mind and over my lips without restraint. Grandmama assured me that this was the only reason why I was restricted to my room and barred from serious family discussions. After all, concentration camps were open to all, Jew and German alike. My family had no desire to wind up in one.

That was then and this is now. Words still tumble across my lips.

“Is that why you’re playing solitaire?” The quiet voice from another dimension wanted to know. I could not ignore her. And I could not concentrate on the game. Nor could I work on the pictures, not to mention the unfinished story draft still sitting on the desk top. The Grand Dame was rasping the throat a little, an indication that she was about to force the issue. From where she was coming, she could read my mind.

“What is a ticket?” BINGO, she had arrived.

“What ticket?”

“The one that is occupying your mind.”

“I got a ticket for speeding!.

“Tickets in your world cost money. How Much?”

I shook my head. It wasn’t the money, it was the way I received a ticket. I admit I was running a little late. But I followed the car in front of me at a safe distance. I wore my seat belt. I turned on the turn signal. I checked the traffic. There was no car behind me and it was safe for me to turn. I pulled up in front of the office where I volunteer once a month. I got out of the car and nearly collided with the policeman standing next to my car, his car being parked catty-corner behind and to one side of my car. I had no idea where he came from or what he wanted from me. He kind of smiled and wanted to know why I pulled in to that spot.

“I do volunteer work here and I’m late” I told him.

“Is that what you do? Volunteer?”

“Yes”

“You haven’t any idea why I stopped you?”

He was wrong. He didn’t stop me. I simply had arrived at my destination. But he was right about the other thing. I had no idea why he stopped me.

What followed went very quickly. He requested that I remain in the car while he went to his car. He returned and told me that I was speeding. I knew I had followed the car in front of me at a safe distance. If I was speeding, so was the car in front of me. But I received the ticket.

Grandmama thought about it a little.

“Were you speeding?”

“If I were, I didn’t know. “

How could I possibly keep my eyes on the speedometer and the road at the same time?

“That is the conundrum!” The Grand dame stated. I know what she was going to say next. It was one of those things where control no longer rested with me and justice had very little to do with the fine. By the time the nice young man had finished with me, all the others who were moving at the same rate I was had long since disappeared. The only thing that bothered me was that he wasn’t behind me when I checked for the traffic.

“Are you able to wish him well?”

“Not now; certainly not now.”

Now my mind was occupied with the thought of finding some sort of gadget that would allow me to watch the road and the speedometer at the same time. Maybe an implant of some sort in my brain.

“Were you speeding?” Grandmama never gave up on something that hasn’t been completely divulged.

“I was going 43 miles in a 30 mile zone. At least that’s what I was told.””

She stopped after that and I had the answer. I had to accept the honesty of the police person and that meant I was speeding. And so was every other car in front of me. And I wasn’t through with Grandmama yet:

You know something? You know I’m glad I'm not going to drive the hearse to my funeral. I’d probably wind up with a ticket, if not for going too fast, than possibly for going too slow.”

I could hear those soft little peals of laughter. Lord I really wished I had a wormhole to crawl into.