Ponderings.

I take great joy in observing life. I spend a lot of time pondering my observations. So, one day I thought I would write them down. These are my ponderings. -dana

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Lost Keys.

I can sing the entire theme song to the Captain Kangaroo show.  It is one of those weird things about the brain.  For years that song had been tucked away somewhere in my gray matter and then one day it showed up again.  My ability to perform it has become my "stupid human trick".  I really think everyone should have one.

"Jingle, jingle, jingle.  Do you hear what I hear? 
 Jingle, jingle, jingle.  It's something just for you.
Is it a sleigh bell?  No, it's not a sleigh bell.  
Is it a doorbell?  No, it's not a doorbell.  
It's the sound of the keys to the treasure house... 
and Captain Kangaroo!"

And there is much more which I won't recite here.  But I want you to know that I could.  Most certainly could!

However, this really isn't about the wonderful workings of the brain.  It's not even about Captain Kangaroo. It is about the bain of my family's existence for many years now.

Keys.  

It's about keys.  You know.  The kind that start your engine so you can go conquer the world everyday.  The kind that quickly get you into your house when you cannot "hold it" another minute!  The kind that go "jingle, jingle, jingle" in your pocket until you lose them, at which time they fall deathly silent.

Some people have a huge wad of keys they carry around with them.  Seriously?  Why would you do that?  First of all, they're heavy when you have more than,  say, 15 on a keychain.  Secondly, how long must it take to find the right key?  Who needs the frustration, you know?  

The only time I think it would come in handy to carry that many keys would be if someone came up behind me and said, "Ma'am, give me the key to your car and no one gets hurt".  Then, with a shaky hand I would toss over the "wad" to him and he would be like "dang lady, what do all these keys go to?",  and I would be all cool and just sort of shrug.  Long before he figured out which one was the car key he would get frustrated, throw the keys on the ground and that would be the end of it.  That is the only good reason I can think of to carry around a lot of keys.  But what are the odds?

All I know is that if you were  looking for someone to be "the keeper of the keys" you would not want it to be anyone in my immediate family.  Ever.

There are five people in my immediate family.  One day some years ago,  I got tired of dealing with the house key situation.  Where is it?  Who has the house key?  Where did we hide it outside?  So I went to Hasse's Hardware Store and watched them make me five keys.  With my original, we would then have a total of six.  Everyone had their own key with one to spare.  Total key organization.  I can safely say that house keys weren't an issue for all of a couple of weeks.  Then slowly, one by one, they just vanished into thin air until one day, no one had one but me.  Along with the lost keys went their recollections of ever having been given keys.

 Just a bunch of deniers--that's what they are.  

The children no longer live at home, but still somehow we all seem to be twisted up with keys.

My sisters and I are heirs to my uncle's house in the mountains.  My aunt made us each a set of keys.  I loaned mine to my boys, who lived there for a summer.  We all maintain there was never a key to the front door.  Only the garage door.  Then my brother-in-law found a key to the front door and made several copies for all of us. Great, except for he couldn't remember where he put them or the original.  So we're back to no key for the front door.  My keys became involved in a game of  "key, key, who's got the key?  Turns out, no one has it.  Right now I have in my possession only one way to get into that  house.  The garage door opener.  Sometimes it works and other times not so much.

My oldest son attends school in Michigan and has left his 1992 Mercedes station wagon with his younger brother.  Younger brother has one key, which is on his keychain.  Younger brother leaves for Germany.  He gives his father his one little key.  Father puts it on his keychain.  Father leaves for a business trip with the key.  Brother returns home a few days before father.  Oops.  No key to the car.  But that's okay, because there is another set of keys...on a red keychain.  I remember.  They were given to us for safe-keeping by our oldest son.  Ha.

"Jake, you know where they are, right?" I say.

"I don't think I've ever seen them.  I've only had that one key the whole time I've used Adam's car," he says.

 We've played the blame game. 

 "I have never seen another set of keys," my husband says from his cell phone in a city miles away.

 "Well I have never once driven that car so why would I ever have had them," I say.

Then we deny.

"Maybe Adam never left us that extra set of keys after all".

Holy guacamole.

If I'm honest I will admit that even I occasionally am prone to losing keys.  Out of my two other siblings, my parents chose me to hold the extra key to their safe deposit box.  In my mind it was probably because I was the most responsible.  If you ask the sisters, though, they would probably--no, most assuredly-- say it was only because at the time they each lived about 1,000 miles away.  Whatever the case, my parents would later say it was ill-placed trust because when they closed that box several years later and needed to turn in the keys, not only could I not find the dang key, I was only vaguely aware of having been given the key.  

That is when I decided it was too much pressure to be "the holder of the keys".

But pressure or not, that is my position in my family.  Holder of the keys.  When someone can't find a key, who do they come looking for?  Me.  So, I created something fondly known in my house as "the key bowl".  It's a cute little antique bowl and it currently holds lots of keys that we have no idea what they unlock/turn on.  

 It currently does NOT hold my husbands truck keys which have gone missing as of this morning.  He searched high and low.  I joined the search, retracing his steps from where he last parked his truck to the front door of the house.  No keys.  Where does he turn for help?  Me.  I would like to go on record as having removed the only remaining key to his truck from my keychain and placing it in his hand.  I no longer have a key to the truck!

My husband looks one last time in his truck for his key.  He walks back in the door and I say to him, "Any luck?"  He says, "No, I couldn't find it.  But look what I did find!"

In his hand he holds up a red key chain with the second set of keys to my son's old Mercedes.  They were under the seat of his truck--apparently teleported there because, as my husband earlier stated, he'd never, ever seen a second set of keys.

That's when I thought to myself that sometimes you have to lose something to find something.  Then I had to smile at how God continually reminds me of his words and promises through things as silly as lost and found keys.

P.S.  I pondered "keys" and wrote this last week just before I left for vacation.  I planned to post it after I get home next week. However, last night while sipping something refreshing in the small town of Kane, Pennsylvania,  I got a text from my son who is vacationing/house-sitting with his sister at our house.  It seems relevant to post now.

This was his text.

"Lainey lost the house key". 

Oy.

the key bowl.
















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