January Column Winner

Lost and Found

By Barb Walter, The Kingfisher Times & Free Press

When I lost my car keys last month, everyone told me to check my pockets.

Duh! Like I was too old, or dull-witted, to think of that.

I’d felt in the pockets of jackets, jeans, jogging pants and pajamas. I’d also searched my purse inside-and-out, the computer/ottoman/kitchen table, desks and even under the scary couch cushions.

Then one night after a relaxing shower I put on my terrycloth robe fresh from the dryer... and the keys found me.

That’s when an old blue robe hanging on the door jingled and the lost was found.

In my defense, those keys were in the pocket of a robe that I never - rather rarely - ever wear.

When I told others about that, and a few other of my absent-minded moments, they were all too quick to share stupid stuff others had done.

• • •

“Happy 42nd Birthday! Love, Mom.”

That’s what one of my daughters-from-another-mother wrote on her daughter’s birthday card, but it was the girl’s 41st birthday.

Surely Rachel, my California granddaughter, appreciated her mom’s sentiment and maybe even a birthday check, if Jill remembered to enclose it. 

Wow! 

Since Jill joined the elderly (65-and-older) crowd she must have forgotten to take her Prevagin, but it’s nice that her loving sister, Tracy, shared her story. 

• • •

Did you hear about the elderly woman who waited in a beauty shop lobby while her hairdresser finished with another client?

After the client left, the woman went in and sat at the shampoo station as usual.

“What are you doing here?” asked her hairdresser. “Your appointment isn’t until next week.”

“I’m sure it’s today,” she said. “I checked it on my phone before I left the house. Would you please hand me my purse?”

She reached in the purse for her cellphone, but in-stead pulled out her TV remote control.

She laughed.

Everyone laughed and it’s just another case of being in a hurry, or preoccupied, or both.

• • •

That reminds me of recently misplacing my cell after a shopping trip.

I remembered that I’d had the phone in the car on the way home, or thought I had, but looked there anyway.

Also all around the car, and on the porch without any luck.

After that search, I carried in the mail and guess I got distracted, then - miracles of all miracles - heard my cell phone ringing.

Gr-r-r! It was a TV commercial with my ring tone.

I tried to trace my steps in the kitchen, then heard my phone ringing for real in the living room, but it quit before I could get to it. 

That’s when I decided to call myself.

I got the land phone, sat on the couch, punched in my cell number. While it rang I searched on the ottoman in front of me, but it only rang three times then shut off.

Recall.

Search.

Still lost.

I swept under the ottoman, around the couch and chairs, and hit recall again.

Then I heard the phone so I searched under the pillows, blankets and cushions on the couch, but didn’t find it.

That’s when, after being a former three-pack smoker 25 years ago, the urge for a cigarette had never been stronger. 

When I stood up, and reached in my pants pocket for my car keys, I pulled out my cell phone.

Yes, yes, I know: always look in your pockets!

Don’t tell me again be-cause I might lose the ability to laugh at myself.