It’s always an adventure when I get behind the wheel of a car. The near-sighted cartoon character Mr. Magoo, voiced by Jim Backus, comes to mind. Especially at night on these dark Portland roads when it’s raining, it really gets interesting. My wife is not shy about giving me driving instructions, so this only adds to the tension, as Siri tries to guide us to a Chinese restaurant. Often in Portland the route takes you out of the way to avoid traffic congestion, and there always seems to be disagreement on the best way there. The environmentalist influence in this area keeps street lights to a minimum, so the lethal combination of old age, darkness, twisting roads, a wet windshield, and cautious commuters makes any drive extremely stressful. Both driver and passenger were relieved to finally arrive at the restaurant safely.

I often joke about my wife striking the Heisman pose as I drive, one hand pressed against the dashboard in a protective stance. I’d probably do the same thing if both hands weren’t on the steering wheel. I’m also extremely bad with directions, so I try to welcome her back-eat driving. When she’s not with me, I end up in the strangest predicaments and often lost. However, trying to follow both Siri and her instructions at the same time can be additionally frustrating. In retirement, I only venture out there a few times each week now, so the lack of regularity only adds to my lack of confidence. I recently purchased a 1957 Saturday Night Post magazine on Ebay, specifically interested in a baseball article on one of my childhood favorites. (See Post # 406).

In trying to find a little more value in my purchase, I began to peruse some of the ads and took particular interest in the cover. We’re all certainly familiar with Norman Rockwell and his contributions through the years, but there was another illustrator that designed 115 Post covers between 1948-1962. His name is George Hughes and his signature is on the cover of this particular issue. As co-workers, he and Norman Rockwell both settled in the same Vermont neighborhood area, taking advantage of the beautiful scenery to provide creative energy. This particular cover considered one of his best was titled, “Mixed Exit,” as Post editors poked fun at misplaced signage on highways that were difficult to navigate. As they noted in reference to this common complaint: “high-speed turnpikes are wonderful inventions…except for a few bugs that need to be ironed out, such as exit signs moving by too fast.” The illustration features a blue convertible with a couple engaged in an obvious argument after missing their turn onto Highway M-20. She’s leaning out of the car pointing a finger at the exit sign behind them, while he ponders what to do next, while surrounded by unhelpful warnings like “No Stopping,” No U-Turn,” and “Next Exit 52 miles.” I could see my wife and I in this very situation.  She would be right and I would be both wrong and sorry, as this little poem wisely advocates:

 

I’m Sorry, You’re Right, I’m Wrong

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I was wisely advised,

A long time ago.

Of nine little words,

I needed to know.

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I’m sorry,

You’re right,

 I’m wrong.

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In patching a friendship,

Keeping peace with a spouse.

Words that will keep you,

From the dog house.

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 You’re right,

 I’m sorry,

 I’m wrong.

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Use these nine magic words,

The order is up to you.

Say them with meaning,

Any combination will do.

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I’m wrong,

 You’re right,

I’m sorry.

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It’s what to say,

When you’re a jerk.

Healing words,

That really work.

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I’m wrong.

I’m sorry.

You’re right. 

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A lesson to learn,

In the game of life.

Words of wisdom,

Between husband and wife.

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I’m sorry,

I’m wrong.

You’re right,

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Say them with meaning,

And often repeat.

I promise these words,

Will lower the heat.

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You’re right,

 I’m wrong.

I’m sorry,

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Six combinations,

Nine words any way.

Old fashioned math,

Keeps trouble at bay.

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You’re right,

 I’m sorry,

 I’m wrong.

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Always wrong or sorry,

When you have a fight.

Just remember,

You’re never right.

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I’m sorry,

You’re right,

 I’m wrong.

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johnstonwrites.com

Copyright April 2009

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These “words of wisdom” are credited to a former boss of mine, and have become an important part of my philosophy with any partnership. I can safely say that I’m usually wrong when it comes to directions, so driving is always a challenge. I have missed so many exits and made so many wrong turns that I no longer have any confidence in getting from Point A to Point B. For some inexplicable reason, I still try to argue, but ultimately I resort to these “9 little words” that always end in “sorry.”