LOST & FOUND

Insignificant things that happen to us sometimes have significant meaning. To fully understand, we have to sit back and take a moment to ponder them. I find this to be especially true today.

Although I had this story mostly complete in my mind, never did I think the unfinished ending would be handed to me in a most unusual manner.

For as long as I can remember—I’ve loved what’s referred to as show-n-tell. Even before grade school, if I found something unique such as a large leaf, pinecone, or ugly bug, I felt the need to show my parents or grandparents.

Elementary school years took things to a different level, because on occasion, there was an official show-n-tell day. The assorted junk I hauled into class were generally polished rocks or boyish items received for Christmas or birthdays, such as cap guns or Slinkys.

One year, most likely 1964, I brought a small plastic bubblegum machine that my folks gave me as a gift. This machine would discharge one bubblegum ball for a penny, although anything round, and up to the size of a quarter worked just fine. Because of this, kids used their milk or lunch money to buy gum from me.

I made a killing for several days until being told not to bring my device to class anymore. What entrepreneur spirit I possessed back then was nearly destroyed that day. Dreams of placing actual bubblegum machines in laundromats throughout Texas, still remained with me, yet I never pursued the idea, being much too young to even know how.

In junior high, speech class was about as close as we got to show-n-tell. I was extremely shy at this point, and developed the jitters having to stand in front of my peers. Pimples seemed to appear out of nowhere from this stress, and I recall one humongous one breaking out on my forehead the day of a speech.

No amount of Clearasil would cover things up, and I’m sure as I gave my five minute talk, all eyes were focused on the zit instead of what I had to say. I only mention that because had it been someone else talking looking like Cyclops, my eyes would’ve been doing the same.

High school was a bit different. I’d lost some of my shyness, and actually looked forward to speech class, always searching for something unique to talk about. That generally wasn’t hard for me to do.

One year, I gave a demonstration on how a pencil was made. Beforehand, I sanded off all of the yellow paint, severing the eraser and attachment band with a knife as well. The remaining pencil was then placed in boiling water which loosened the glue—allowing both halves and lead to separate.

My instructor was most impressed, especially when I told the class that one tree produced 170,000 pencils. Encyclopedia Britannica gave me that information and not Google. That creative speech earned an A.

College was a bit different for me where presentations were concerned, because I started late in life, and most of the other students were half my age. At that point stage fright was a thing of the past.

In Speech 101, I gave a eulogy on Spuds McKenzie. Spuds was the official mascot and spokesperson at that time for Budweiser Beer. A portrait of the bull terrier dog sat on my podium including a box of Kleenex. The crude artwork made by me using staples and glue to hold things together now hangs on my garage wall. I still chuckle on occasion looking at it.

After finishing my eulogy, then wiping both eyes with a tissue, some students laughed while others asked if Spuds had really died. This presentation was one of my best yet. I aced that class including most all college classes I took, receiving A’s. It’s strange how hard a person studies when they’re footing the bill.

While working for the State of Alaska, I put together a roast of my boss for his retirement party. Keith Nelson sported a beard, and the Viking helmet made for him by me using a hardhat and two pointed ice cream cones came out to perfection. My humorous speech after presenting him with this gift received much laughter. Keith thanked me afterwards for recognizing him.

Facebook has been my venue for show-n-tell since college and those working years. I’ve enjoyed sharing things about my life, yet reading what others have to say is the main reason I joined, along with reconnecting with friends and family. My wife, Joleen, has often said that I share way too much. That goes with being a writer I suppose.

A couple of years ago, I told myself that I’d stop using Facebook as show-n-tell once I reached a certain age, figuring that I’ve shared just about everything I can. I’ve been gradually slowing down the past year, with April of this year, my official month to go into fb retirement mode. That doesn’t mean I still won’t be reading stuff.

The last thing I shared was finding an old Colt revolver in the desert, figuring this was an excellent ending. Something happened soon after while metal detecting that far exceeds the last discovery, and what I believe is a miracle of sorts. You’ll have to be judge of that yourself.

In 2014, ten years ago, Joleen and I were in the desert south of Lake Havasu City, metal detecting. A set of house keys were in my pocket that I randomly dropped, checking to see if the detector was working properly working. There’s nothing worse than walking around for 15 minutes, not finding anything, and then looking down to see that the machine was accidentally turned off.

Somewhere along the way on that most memorable day, a decade ago, I dropped the whole key ring as a test of my detector, forgetting to pick them up. Realizing this perhaps a minute later, if even that, I turned around to see a large raven fly away.

The bird had been watching me for some time from a small knoll, probably trying to see what I was snacking on. Granola bars go a long way in keeping the energy fire lit and there was one in my hand. Quickly retracing steps, with Joleen helping me search, nothing was found of the missing keys.

Each key to our house and yard had a different colored plastic marker to identify what it went to. Undoubtedly, the raven was attracted to bright colors and snagged them behind my back. I thought I’d never see those keys again, telling my wife, family, and friends over the years they were lost for good.

Wednesday afternoon, I was metal detecting in an area of desert approximately two miles north of where I lost the key ring. Heading back to our Jeep after spending 30 minutes poking around and finding nothing exciting, I got a low-pitched beep on my machine showing that something made of steel or iron was in the ground.

Using a hand rake, I scraped through hard Arizona rock for a short stint until one key suddenly popped up. I didn’t think much of the find, as a single key had been discovered the week previous. I’m always coming across lone or broken keys along with nails.

Grabbing that dirty key and giving it a good tug, a whole ring of them came out of the ground. It took several seconds for my brain to realize they were mine. The colorful plastic was hard and brittle, with most of it broken off, yet some faded pieces still remained. Contemplating this for several hours afterwards, I came to the conclusion that the odds of this happening are off the chart.

I first knew they were my keys by the silver colored fish ornament. The Miami Dolphins are my team and I picked out that keyring solely for this reason. Made of stainless steel, it held up well under adverse conditions unlike the football team.

There’s more to this story than a simple lost & found. I believe God led me to these keys, as his way to show me, just because something’s lost for a period of time, doesn’t mean it can’t be found.

This is not only true with keys, but people as well. Yes, I needed a refresher course on that life lesson, because I’m guilty here lately of giving up on some lost folks, especially a slew of them in Washington D.C.

Luke 19:10 says – “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”

As a Christian, I’m commanded to continue praying for the lost, regardless of whether I like them or not. Finding a simple set of keys 10 years after losing them has helped reset my feet on the right path.

Like I said at the beginning of this presentation, insignificant things that happen to us sometimes have significant meaning. To fully understand, we have to sit back and take a moment to ponder them!