When he returned, he found a ticket and a note from the officer, “I’ve circled the block for 10 years. If I don’t give you a ticket I’ll lose my job. Lead us not into temptation.”
Which leads me to the following true story. Four years ago, our daughter, Janice, after many years of poor health, died on her 45th birthday. We scattered some of her ashes in several places important to our family. But she had requested that most of her ashes be scattered on the ocean. Her husband had died a year earlier and his ashes were scattered on the ocean. So, on Sept. 7, Judy and I took the remainder of her ashes to the beach. It was her birth date ... and also her death date.
It was a poignant and emotional day for us as we motored slowly through the Palmetto State. Judy was driving. In a little South Carolina town about 50 miles from our destination, we were pulled over by a policeman who explained that she was over the 25 mph speed limit. She replied that she had not noticed any sign that the limit had dropped from 45 to 25 mph. The policeman went back to prepare the ticket. As we waited, she became increasingly emotional. By the time he returned, she was shaking like a leaf and beginning to cry. He began to explain the ticket. He pointed out that if she would appear in court on a certain date, the judge would probably reduce the fine.
She replied in a trembling voice and with tears, “Oh, we won’t be coming back.”
Then he said, “I know you are upset, but why are you so very upset?”
As the young officer pressed her, finally she told why we were on our way to the beach. Then he became emotional, too. He asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?” What he couldn’t have known is that she is a very private person and would not have revealed this unless pushed to do so. He explained that now having written the ticket, he could not void the ticket. Then he began to
urge us to return on the court date. He said he would urge the judge to dismiss the ticket.
His final words to us were, “I am a father myself. I can only imagine how you must feel today. I will pray for you tonight.”
On Wednesday, we went back, and he kept his word. Blessed are the merciful.
While we waited outside the courtroom, I saw a newspaper article framed and hanging on the wall. It was a sweet piece about what a nice town it is. I had checked out the town’s Web site and had learned that there are 397 souls in the town. The article mostly noted how nice the folk are. I can say “Amen” to this. It also noted that the town is prominent for nabbing speeders on their way to the beach. I can say “Amen” to this, too.
I have not mentioned the name of this little town. There is no particular reason to do so because it happens repeatedly in several little towns in the region. It is a long-standing tradition. The towns have in common that they are located too close to the beach. When travelers reach them they are beginning to smell the salty air from the ocean. They do not want to stop and spend money in the little towns.
It is a sad thing, the plight of the small towns of this slice of the Palmetto State. Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. I certainly hope so.
Go to the beach. Walk your car through the small towns. Remember the scriptures and make it a biblical trip. By the way, if you find yourself in a line of slow-moving traffic, it will be because my Judy is in front of the line. She won’t get within 20 mph of the speed limit again.
Harold Bales is a retired Methodist minister who lives in Concord. Contact him at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .
