The grandpa waited impatiently for her to cross completely pass his car.
"C'mon on, Rebecca," he muttered from behind the wheel.
"Do you know her, Grandpa?" asked his young, earnest grandson.
"No."
"How do you know that's her name?"
"They're all Rebecca," the grandpa said. "All little old ladies."
C'mon, Rebecca.
The earnest young grandson was the husband. He told me this story (of course not exactly in those words) after our first time sitting together in a car waiting for a little old lady to slowly, slowly, painstakingly slowly do something. I say "something" because I don't remember what it was, though most likely the little old lady was in her car, and we were waiting for her to turn left or right, drive across the intersection, or edge into a parking spot.
C'mon, Rebecca.
We have maintained the husband's Grandpa Warren's tradition of muttering at little old ladies, as we respectfully wait for them to do their slow pace. C'mon Rebecca. A few years ago, the husband and I were balancing on our bicycles, waiting for a Rebecca to do her thing. It inspired us to write this poem.
C'mon, Rebecca
by Arrmac and Su-sieee! Mac
Toot-toot, lady!
Toot-toot, lady!
Why you moving so slow?
C'mon, Rebecca.
C'mon, Rebecca.
I've got places to go!
Toot-toot, lady!
Toot-toot, lady!
You can't see over your wheel.
C'mon, Rebecca.
C'mon, Rebecca.
Too short to drive, for real!
Toot-toot, lady!
Toot-toot, lady!
You don't even see me here.
C'mon, Rebecca.
C'mon, Rebecca.
You drive like you're drinking beer!
C'mon...Rebecca!
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| ** C'mon Rebecca © 2007 Dick and Susie McDavid. All rights reserved. Really? You want to use our poem? Then, drop me an e-mail. |
I have to add this: True, the conversation went a bit differently, not in those exact words. I think Grandpa actually said that the woman passing in front of us simply looked like her name ought to be Rebecca. And he was right. She was wearing one of those flannel coats with the lumpy texture, butterfly glasses, and a pillbox hat covered with little flowers. She actually might have been younger than Grandpa himself, too—or at least roughly the same age. Anyway, he only said that once, to my knowledge, but it has stuck with me for lo, these many years.
ReplyDeleteThank you, husband. I'm gonna find me an outfit like that for when it's my turn to be a Rebecca. Probably in some young people's minds, I'm already that as I mosey across the street.
ReplyDeletei really think i'm gonna pick up this little ditty of saying c'mon rebecca while in my car waiting for either an elderly pedestrian or driver. i think i found this too funny not to. i'll keep ya posted:)
ReplyDelete