In February, Suzette Martinez Standring, a multi-talented friend I met through the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, competed in “Erma’s Got Talent-The Stand-Up Auditions.” Erma refers to Erma Bombeck, an American humorist, syndicated newspaper columnist, and author of 15 books. At the height of her popularity, Bombeck was read semi-weekly by 30 million readers. Her columns presented a humorous slant on suburban life. Bombeck died in 1996 at age 69 from kidney transplant complications.
Suzette, who lives near Boston, Massachusetts won the opportunity to perform a two-minute memorized stand-up routine. The four national judges watched each participant perform “live” as it aired on Facebook. Suzette didn’t win the contest, but she was awarded attendance at the annual Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop at the University of Dayton in early April.
Suzette’s Bombeck encounter reminded me of humorous things I’ve experienced. Maybe I’d use this story, if I were ever in the Erma Bombeck contest.
Years ago, my husband and I went Christmas shopping. I stayed in Macy’s and he roamed the mall. Looking for a new coat, I approached a circular sale rack in the middle of the store. The top of the rack was six inches higher than my sitting height, with a wide outer ring holding the coats. All of the coats were thigh-length and quilted or puffers. I wheeled up to the coats, separating them one by one. Going deeper inside the rack to look closer at the coat hoods and pockets, I suddenly realized my small front wheels had locked onto the bottom of the metal coat rack frame and the coats — more like sleeping bags — now engulfed me. Almost magically, I was completely hidden. I rocked from one side to the other trying to free my wheelchair. I yelled for help, but my voice was muffled by the insular coats and loud holiday music.
At one point, a boy about 5 years old, and my height, wandered into the rack. Seeing me, he whispered, “Hide and seek.” He was holding a small metallic blue matchbox toy car. Suddenly he dropped the car in my open backpack. Then he ran off. It was sweltering hot inside the rack. To draw attention, I considered slipping a few coats off their thick metal hangers and banging them like musical triangles. I stopped and took a breath. It appeared my only solution was to pop a big front wheelie and hope I didn’t land backward on my head. I’d already done that move years ago in a public restroom. I flipped over backward and a plastic box of hand wipes in my backpack cushioned my head from the concrete floor. My idea worked and I shot backward into the store aisle. When I got my bearings, I saw my young hide-and-seek friend. He was with his mom at a different coat rack, giggling and waving at me. About then my husband reappeared. “Why are you sweating?” he asked. “Did you find a coat you liked? That boy is waving and smiling at you. Do you know him?”