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    Lost and Found

    There are five words a man doesn’t want to hear: “I can’t find my purse!”

    This is what Ginger told me Saturday evening. We had just returned from the freshman picture session at the Haynar Center in Troy, OH. It was grandson (number four) Austin Rank, and his first homecoming dance.

    Ginger and I had narrowed the lost purse down to two locations. The first one was Fountain Acres Foods, in Fountain City, IN. The second was in Union City, OH. where our son (JR) lives.

    “Lets just drive back to Fountain City and see if you left your purse in the gazebo we had lunch?” I suggested.

    “I really think I left it at JR’s house, because I wrote a note in the back of Trey’s painting he recently did with me,” Ginger proclaimed.

    “It will be faster to go to Fountain City first, then to JR’s house from there,” I described.

    Forty-five minutes later we were facing a huge wrought iron gate, with security cameras. I knew they would be closed, but thought I could just go into the gazebo and check it out for the lost purse. We then saw four children playing outside near the entrance.

    “Ask those kids if we can talk to their mother and father,” I advised from the car, while Ginger hung to the gate.

    She actually listened, and cried out to the Amish children. A little boy was the first on the scene. He couldn’t have been over four ages old, but he tried to move the gate himself. I guess he didn’t see the padlock? Soon, his older sisters and brother was listening to Ginger and her plea to bring their parents out to the gate to talk to us.

    The oldest girl darted off in a flash, along with her sister, and her oldest brother. The little boy remained, still trying to move the gate.

    Soon, we saw the parents approaching, and Ginger told them that she might have left her purse in the gazebo several hours ago, and could they go and check it out for her. When they left, the oldest girl darted for the first gazebo, but Ginger had told the father, which gazebo it was. The wife headed back into the building. Moments later, we saw her coming with Ginger’s purse in arm. “Hallelujah!” Ginger bellowed.

    The wife had seen the purse when they entered the building, so she immediately knew where to locate it.

    This week’s bottom line: We were told that someone had found the purse, and brought it back into the store. I could only imagine how many credit card companies Ginger would have had to call . . .

    I still carry around the picture of the kid who came with my wallet.
    Paraphrased from Rodney Dangerfield.

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