Published May 20, 2007 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
When I was a kid,
grandpa
pinned a silver sheriff’s badge to my shirt the moment I arrived for a
visit.
It was one of those great kid moments. At the end of a long autumn day
of
playing in the leaves it was time to go home, but the sheriff’s badge
was
nowhere to be found. I never did find the badge, but I still remember
how meticulously
my whole family combed the leaf-filled yard looking for it. Though I
didn’t
realize it then, that memory was worth more than the badge.
When we lose
things, it’s not
the absent things that upset us; it’s what the things mean. For a 24
hour
period after our son was born, I lost the memory card with all the
digital
pictures. I had backed them up on our computer, but there’s something
about
losing the original record of your first son’s birth that makes people
treat
you a little bit more like Hitler than they otherwise would. I found
the card
under our computer desk, but the scare was real.
My wife Christina
told me
about an essay she wrote for school when she was 12 entitled “The
Island of
Lost Things.” Gnomes would take your things to this island and try to
use them.
If the item had no use they would toss it back to the regular world
where you
might find them later, thus explaining why you sometimes found lost
items but
not always. That makes as much sense as any other theory.
Lost and found is
much more
than things. You can lose hope and find it again. We thought our
terrier Molly
Dog was gone when she fled into the rural wilderness near our home, but
we
found her and realized how important she was to us, despite her barking
and
inappropriate grooming habits. We lose loved ones, but find memories
and ways
to move on. And every loss – each dog, flash drive, watch, relative,
friend,
lover and shoe – is necessary for us to find who we are. Losing is
lousy, but
finding is what it’s all about.
There will be more geraniums and I will take better care of them in the future.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.