I was heading into a local grocery store the other day, and I noticed a few people gathered around a car parked in one of the spots reserved for people with disabilities. I heard someone yelling. As I got closer to the car, I saw an old guy ranting and raving at the driver of the car, a woman maybe in her mid-40s. There was a younger man in the passenger seat. I can’t repeat the “colorful” language the guy was using. But here is a snippet of what I heard: “Why the @#$ percent are you parking in a handicapped spot? You don’t have a sticker, and there’s obviously nothing wrong with you!”
The woman got out of her car. And with a totally unexpected air of quiet dignity, she calmly told this man: “My son has end-stage non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He has about three months to live. I would think that for the last 90 days of his life, he ought to be able to park a little closer to the front door of this grocery store.”
