The Early Bird Gets the Taxi

     I was all thrown off yesterday.  It all started off wrong when Rembrandt, our youngest dog, moved around like he wanted to start his day, and Edward rousted me out of bed to assist him in walking the three dogs.  Since we were in the city, we couldn't just open the door and let them out.  An actual leash, with me attached to Rembrandt, was required. 
     Bleary eyed and looking like crap, I made my way through the lobby, dragged by a dog.  As the doorman opened the door, he commented, "You're up nice and early."
     That was my first clue that it wasn't really 7 a.m., or even 6.
      Note to Edward:  when you tell time, pay attention to the little hand on the clock as well as the big one.    You may think you know the hour, but you might be wrong -- really, really wrong.  And Edward, trust me, you don't ever want to make that mistake again.
      Many, many hours later, at 1 p.m., we met Cheeks-A-Flying (CAF) and his lovely wife, the Queen of Jurisprudence, Mommy, to take a cab over to see "Good People," a new play by David Lindsay-Abaire about Margie, from South Boston, a struggling, single mother of an adult handicapped daughter, who, after many years, meets her high school boyfriend Mike, a doctor who escaped Southie.
      I loved the play, but CAF, who slept through the first act and seemed to be dozing in the second one, had a number of serious criticisms.  While I didn't agree with all of them, the more I thought about his critique the more I came to see that his points were meaningful and well considered.
      Could CAF do his best thinking asleep?
      There is further evidence to support this theory.  Back in his youth, when CAF attended law school, he worked full-time at night and went to law school full-time during the day.  Understandably, he was always sleep deprived.  Mommy and CAF attended a class together, which is how they met.  She sat in the back and he in the front.  He invariably slept through class with his head down on the desk.  However, the professor commonly peppered the class with questions and would call on people randomly by name.  When CAF was asked a question, he would wake from his slumber, provide the correct the response, and go right back to sleep.      
      Mommy was so impressed, she married him.  What a love affair!
      After the play was over, the four of us attempted to get a cab back uptown.  Since lots of shows were letting out at the same time, it wasn't exactly easy, but CAF spied an empty available taxi down the street and told me to run for it.
      Despite the fact that I had on my new Robert Clergerie sandals that I bought on sale at Neiman Marcus, I sprinted, yelling, "Taxi, taxi, taxi." The taxi as well as traffic for three blocks stopped dead still in response to my shrieking.
      We all piled in and everyone thanked CAF for finding the cab.  Really?  Who was it who ran for it?  Who shrieked for it?  Would we have that cab if it weren't for me, me, me?
       CAF, once a variety of food items was cleared from the passenger seat, joined Mr. Sharma, the cab driver, up front while the three of us got in the back.  Mr. Sharma, a 76 year old from a small village outside of New Delhi, told us a little about himself.  He had been driving a cab for many years.  He raised two sons in the United States.  One became a doctor and another a CPA.  He never gave up land he inherited in India and always stayed in contact with the village.  Most importantly, he wanted to do something to help the people of his village, and he realized that what they needed was a school for girls.  While boys attended school for free, girls did not have that opportunity, so Mr. Sharma took it upon himself to send money back to set up and sustain a free girls school on the land that he owned.
       Over time, Mr. Sharma was able to obtain additional donations, which he attracted through articles that have been written about him, including a long piece in the New York Times.  Additionally, there was a documentary on PBS that told his story and even a movie, entitled "Good Sharma," starring Joan Allen.  He was also awarded an honorary Ph.D. from Mt. Holyoke.
        Upon emerging from the taxi, after CAF paid the fare and but offered nothing for the school, some of us in the cab thought the story was untrue. 
        One of us went on Google to find out everything Mr. Sharma said was true.
        My day was right again.