Going where the losers go ...


FROM A country song:

“I never go around mirrors ...”

And from me:

“There are two places you can’t lie: To God and the mirror.”

What does one or both have to do this morning with “Going where the losers go?”

I don’t have the faintest. That’s just a couple of lines that ran through my mind late Saturday as I watched the sun set in the west and it came to me that I’d gone an entire day without losing anything other than my eyeglasses and smartphone.

Which is when I jumped up from the laptop keyboard and rushed to the back bath, where my personal mirror sort of waits for a confession, maybe like a Catholic priest were I a Catholic rather than a Southern Baptist.

It felt really good looking at “Self” with “Self, I done good today, haven’t lost anything but my eye glasses and smartphone.”

The image in the mirror smiled back at me, and the mirror did not crack.

The not so good times ...

If you’ve been following (I hope you have) the rather aimless wandering of a growing-old-too-darn-fast columnist, you know I have been a contributor to the “Lost,” but blessed to be among the “Found.”

In the last three years, I have lost my billfold four times. In the last three years, I have had my billfold returned to me, meaning there are really good people out there who do not show up on the 5 o’clock news or on the post office wall.

Along the way, there was this ...

The blonde: “Where did you last have your billfold?”

The Son: “Dad, where did you last use your phone?”

Me: “Dadgummit, if I knew that it wouldn’t be lost!!”

That ranks right there with being in the hospital on your death bed and someone walks in with a big grin and:

“How you feeling?”

Think about that one ... but I digress a bit, maybe more than a bit.

The blonde, who does have her moments, has solved the problem of the lost billfolds.

A couple of weeks back, on the way out the door, she called me back with:

“Sit down!”

I sat ... down ... at the kitchen table.

She sat down across from me and placed my billfold and a small cardholder, about the size of a pack of Marlboros, in the middle of the table.

“You were leaving without your billfold.”

Then she shoved a small card holder across the table with:

“Take a look. That’s all you need.”

I looked.

The small card holder held one credit card, two $5 bills and three ones.

“Leave your billfold in the car with your driver’s license, insurance cards, and other stuff you don’t need and with absolutely no money ... and remember, lock the CAR!!”

Problem solved ... well, almost.

In the last two weeks, she has had to take my car apart in order to find the tiny card holder I had tossed on the seat or console or whatever. The interior of my car is all black, the card holder is black. You can be looking straight at it and not see it.

Wouldn’t surprise me if I don’t have a red one the next time she visits Dillard’s.

Oh, one other thing. On two occasions she has found the tiny cardholder in my jeans’ pockets just before said jeans hit the washing machine.

Did I mention that the small card holder had two $5 bills and a couple of ones in it? For Jack’s on Quintard and Chef T’s out on 431 North (of my manor), she figures $13 is gosh a-plenty for an aging-too-fast-newspaper columnist.

Who am I to argue?

After all, Son and Mother are joined at the hip and I need to keep Son off my back so he will keep helping me find my “smart” phone.

A moral to this?

I can be lost, but I can be found ... or whatever.

(I think I just heard the mirror in the back bath go C-R-A-C-K!!!)

So, enough ... get up and let’s go to church.


George Smith can be reached at 256-239-5286 or email: gsmith731@gmail.com.