A Powell error is a slip in judgement or a continuation of one's activity and day without realization-- a lapse in clear thinking, if you will. Powell error usually occurs when there is chaos or pandemonium within or outside the household.
There is always room for a little Powell error.
It was a fantastically bright summer day. Everything was lit by the highlighter sun, rays sweeping over the brightened land. Our little street in Granby was an unusually busy place that day. The Air Show had beckoned eager jet plane viewers from all over the state. Cars hugged each other on the tree-lined road as the queue crept its way toward the Air Force Base.
There was an excited bustle in the Powell home.
Sarah came racing down the stairs, her hair in a twisted mess and her over-sized tee shirt draping over her ten-year old body.
"HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE!"
Uncle Barney had entered the scene. Uncle Barney was Dad's college roommate and best friend. He was of no relation to the family, but we all referred to him and his wife Theresa fondly as "Aunt and Uncle." Uncle Barney's eyes were usually lit with laughter, his nose and cheeks reddening the louder and longer he chuckled with Dad, a slim pair of glasses resting sleepily on his face. He was often at the Powell house, lighting up a cigar with Dad (to which I detested as a child, being very sensitive to smoke) or partaking in prayer with both Mom and Dad.
Today, Uncle Barney was taking us down the street to the Air Show. The Air Show only came around once every couple of years. And when it did come, it was obvious. Our entire house would be shaken awake that Saturday morning to the sounds of fighter jets and airplanes roaring over our roof, some dangerously close.
And so, Mom and Dad left us under Uncle Barney's wing. I'm sure they were in desperate need of quiet and alone time.
"Race you to the gate!" Evelyn pushed past us at the door and took off across the lawn and down the street. I was in tow, followed by Joe, Sarah, and Bernard, our "cousin."
As we entered the gates and followed the path toward the base, my heart fluttered happily. The Air Show was one of my favorite days of the year and I couldn't believe it was here!
"If you get lost, tell someone in a uniform," instructed Uncle Barney, pointing at an officer nearby. I followed where he was pointing. The uniform-clad man was probably the most unapproachable-looking person I had ever laid eyes on. His face was gruff and worn, and his apparel made him look starched, stiff. I gulped and kept walking forward. Uncle Barney's instructions flew through my ponytail, missing my ears, and fell on the dusty path next to us.
As we stepped into the main lot, we paused to take in the scenery. An enormous plane sat in the center of the lot, a massive structure. It's silver coating glistened, inviting all to enter it's belly. Every type of person was part of the crowd, clad in shorts, tees, tanks and flops. The buzz in the air was magnificently electric, charging each of our small bodies with the purity of childhood delight.
I looked up into the sky, a blue expanse with the stretched white clouds scraping it's face. There, amongst the sunshiny ceiling, fighter jets were looping and spinning, performing tricks that were unimaginable! I was sucked into the show, watching every move and following the crowd deeper as they were magnetically pulled toward the gates.
A moment passed and I tore my eyes away from the jets, turning around to exclaim: "That's so cool!"
But no one heard. Strangers loomed over me. Uncle Barney and my siblings were no where to be found.
My heart began to race uncontrollably. I was lost! I pushed past the people and ran toward the gaping opening of the plane I had walked past earlier. There stood a man in uniform, his eyes surveying the lot, his hands cupped behind his back. He stood as tall as a building and as straight as an arrow. A sharp, scary arrow.
There's no way I'm talking to him, I thought.
Terrified, I turned in circles, looking desperately for my family. I thought I was going to be lost forever. My tiny heart pounded horrifically against my chest, reminding me of the frightening reality.
Tears started forming in my eyes as I stood in place, trying to muster the courage to approach the officer.
Then, the most beautiful voice broke through the terror and found my ears.
"Barbara! Where were you?" I turned around ferociously-- Uncle Barney was standing there with Joe and Evelyn and company. I exhaled in relief and couldn't stop the tears from flowing. I ran toward my Uncle and hugged him.
Having felt so horribly, my Uncle went out of his way to buy me a root beer float, the first I had ever had.
And, regrettably, I didn't bother to share.
I still get reprimanded about hoarding my treat. But, c'mon-- I had almost been lost for good!
