It wasn’t me, and it wasn’t exactly sneaky.

Years ago, I lived in Jacksonville, Florida in a trailer park. It was a standard issue trailer park. Rows of tin rectangular cubes baking in the tropical sun. It was clean and generally quiet. As in all neighborhoods, there were all types of people living there, some good, some not so good.

One of the neighbors - Pam - was a friend of mine. Pam and her husband lived in the inexpensive trailer park for a number of years, trying to save money to build their own home. She was a good Independent Fundamental Baptist. She and her family went to church every Sunday. Pam taught Sunday School. She and her husband had raised their son to be polite and respectful. She was sweet and kind.

Pam told me how she’d had some trouble with some bad neighbors a few years before, when her son was a toddler. They lived a couple of lots down and had a TransAm. Shiny, new, fast. And they loved to drive the shiny, new TransAm fast down those narrow roads. There were a lot of kids in the neighborhood, so Pam complained to the park manager. The TransAm owners were warned, but to no avail. They continued to drive fast past Pam’s house.

One day, they shot past her house in that shiny, new TransAm and threw a beer can out the window into her yard. Pam’s son, then a toddler, was sitting in the grass. The can missed hitting the child, fortunately, because it was half full, and it might have done some injury. But the can, by some twist of divine providence, landed bottomside down right in front of the little boy. The beer splashed out onto the baby.

Pam picked up the baby, and the can with its vile contents and walked down the street to where the TransAm was now parked. (Pam admitted to me she wasn’t thinking of Heaven.) She knocked on the door, but nobody answered the door. She knew they were in there, because the window was open and she could hear them moving around and whispering inside.

Pam said kindly, sweetly, and loudly, “I’m returning your beer.” Then she stuck the can through the open window of that shiny, new TransAm and dumped it all over the front bucket seat.

After that, the neighbor would drive the long way around to avoid passing her house. They moved soon after that.

I just found Pam’s obituary. She went home to be with the Lord some years ago. I hadn’t seen her in years, but I still miss her.