"IF IT WERE NOT ATTACHED" . . .

         Dad was a kind, truthful man, not given to saying deliberately hurtful things to his sons.  Early in my life, however, he identified a .  . . what? . . . habit, trait, behavior, . . . that has persisted throughout most of my now 80 years.  Consequently, 'age' cannot carry the explanatory freight.  It occurs with annoying regularity, never at a 'convenient' time and often  involves somewhat expensive items.  More often than I would like to acknowledge, his observation raises its troublesome truth: "Son, reach behind you and see if you have your butt.  If it were not attached to you, you would lose it." Dad died in 1992 and I seem still to 'honor' his observation frequently.

    Last week it was a credit card which I finally located on the front seat of my wife's automobile which I had driven to the pharmacy instead of my own.  Several months ago, I could not locate my new  bi-focals.  My wife found them a couple of days later at the bottom of the hall closet where they had fallen when I was fetching the dog's outdoor paraphernalia .  Keys ? Regularly !  Today, it is the hearing aid for my left ear.  The tiny computer in that apparatus costs more than the  laptop with which I am  typing this.

   About 1 p.m. I discovered the 'absence' and called my Audiologist in a nearby town.  Her office telephone answering machine notified me that Friday's closing time is noon, with a Monday morning reopening.  Well, by that time I will be well into my office appointments.  My clients may have to speak loudly.  Thankfully, my hearing is not greatly restricted.  And the hearing aid is insured, so that reduces the stress somewhat.  While there are scheduling and monetary components , those are not  what make the entire matter bothersome.  

   Over the years, some things have been 'found'; others, not so, notably a wallet some 18 +  years ago.  Once after attending a movie, I discovered that I no longer had my check book.  After providing identification, the theater manager returned it.  On our wedding trip, my wife and I spent the second full day retracing our steps of the first day in search of the checkbook.  "What will be next ?" is a troublesome specter.  

   Maybe I should organize a 'search party'; after all I have been away from our house only briefly today.  Or, perhaps offer rewards for those who find my prizes.  So, if you spot it, it looks like this . . .  only for the other ear.

     

                          Satchel