Gartalker's Blog

There was once a man that like many of us who had a senior moment.  I want use his real name. In fact I think I will simply call him J.B. and call his wife Mable.

There names aren’t important. I ‘ll just let you guess who the fellow is. I will say this though. He is a very nice person. Easy to get along with and likes to write.

Then maybe he isn’t any of the above.

Several days ago J.B. left a meeting at our church, He desperately gave himself a personal TSA pat down. He was looking for his keys. They were not in my pockets. A quick search in the meeting room revealed nothing.

Suddenly he realized, I must have left them in the pick-up. Frantically, he headed for the parking lot. His wife, Mable, has scolded him many times for leaving the keys in the ignition. His theory is the ignition is the best place not to lose them. Her theory is that the car will be stolen. As he burst through the doors of the church, he came to a terrifying conclusion. Her theory was right. The parking lot was empty.

He immediately called the police. He gave them his location, confessed that he had left his  keys in the pick-up, and that it had been stolen.

Then he made the most difficult call of all, “Honey,” he stammered. He always call her “Honey” in times like these.

“I left my keys in the pick-up, and it has been stolen.”

There was a period of silence. He thought the call had been dropped, but then he heard Mable’s voice.

“J.B.” she barked, “I dropped you off!” Now it was his time to be silent.

Embarrassed, He said, “Well, come and get me.”

Mable retorted, “I will, as soon as I convince this policeman I have not stolen your pick-up!”