It’s ladybug day at playgroup. We had a fine time making ladybug hats and eating cupcakes and playing games. One little girl had a birthday today, and it was great. Don’t you just love Elly’s hat?
However, on the way to playgroup, I saw what appeared to be the aftermath of a serious car accident. One of the two cars seemed to have its passenger doors sheered off, and airbags had deployed.
I had a moment of indecision. I didn’t see the accident, and I didn’t see if there had been any injuries, so I didn’t know if it was my place to call 911.
Call. Don’t call. Hmmm… 911 is ONLY for emergencies. Don’t bother the 911 people for no reason. That’s something I learned somewhere along the line, and I hesitate to call.
I thought about my friend Bambi at that point. I’ve seen her call 911 more than once. One day we were driving near our houses and there was a man lying half on the sidewalk and half in the street. She called 911. Was it an emergency? Not really, but it very easily could have turned into one. Was the man dead? Having a stroke? Just homeless and thinking that a night in the hospital with two broken legs would be better than another night on the street? Who knows…
Bambi called 911 because she is a woman of compassion, someone who calls for help when other people can’t, even if it’s none of her business. That’s a kind and rare kind of character. People are pretty good for the most part, we just need to keep looking out for one another. Not bothering the fine folks at my local 911 dispatchery was a lie I chose to believe somewhere along the line.
So, I called 911. I was conscious, safe, warm, dry and I had a phone. As it turns out, they had police on the way already. Lucky them. Others didn’t deliberate as long as I did.
Anyway, I’m not to old to learn new tricks. If ever I call for help for you, dear stranger, it’s because my Bambi taught me so. When was the last time you had to make the call?