Humor by John Christmann
Lost And Found
James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree
Took great care of his mother, though he was only three.
James James said to his mother, "Mother," he said, said he;
"You must never go down to the end of the town, if you don't go down with me."*
I recently received an email from a parent at school. Here is what it said:
Hi everyone! James came home on Friday without his left shoe. Can you check whether it accidently came home with your child?
I contemplated the significance of this for a minute. At what point did James and his mom discover he was missing his shoe? Was it after he walked home in the snow or before?
This was quickly followed by a flurry of illuminating responses from other parents:
Mikey came home wearing a shoe labeled Michael, but it isn’t his.
James’s wasn’t wearing a girl’s pump size 3 was he?
Bobby was wearing black loafers on Friday but he came home wearing a red left tennis shoe. Does any one have a left over loafer?
I approached my son to check his shoes. “Did you come home with the right shoes on Friday?” I asked him. “Yes!” he said, astonished that I knew. “We had to take our shoes off for gym class and when I went to put them on there were only two right shoes left in the pile, so I took them.”
I quickly contributed to the rapidly expanding email chain:
We have two shoes but one of them is wrong. It could be the left or it could be the right. I am also missing a brown sock. It you have one lying around it is probably mine. It’s a size thirteen.
James James Morrison's Mother put on a golden gown.
James James Morrison's Mother drove to the end of the town.
James James Morrison's Mother said to herself, said she:
"I can get right down to the end of the town and be back in time for tea."
It is amazing the things kids lose: coats, sweatshirts, library books, baseball mits, sunglasses, hats, cell phones, report cards. Shoes. There is a law, which no doubt has been lost in the shadow of Murphy, which goes something like this: If it is important and can be mislaid, it probably will be.
Organized people label their belongings. I tried that once. I purchased a label maker and labeled some important things around the house in case they went missing. Things like the laundry room and the cat. But I forgot to label the label maker and shortly after I bought it, it disappeared. This was about the time my son lost his brand new North Face jacket. It was the jacket he left in the bowling alley after a birthday party, the jacket that I hadn’t labeled because he had put the labeler in the pocket and I couldn’t find it.
At least the cat is still around.
I now rely on everyone else to label their belongings, with the rationale that if it is not labeled it is probably ours. This makes everything fungible. Like pencils and pens, the articles of life just change hands. Sometimes they fit, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes we just turn around and lose them again. In the world of unmarked things, it all balances out somehow.
King John put up a notice, "LOST or STOLEN or STRAYED!
James James Morrison's mother seems to have been mislaid.
Last seen wandering vaguely: quite of her own accord,
She tried to get down to the end of the town - forty shillings reward!"
I used to get angry when my kids lost things. After all, I want them to be responsible for their belongings. I want them to understand that some articles are expensive to replace. And I want them to learn that there are some things—like homework assignments and photographs borrowed for school projects—that just can’t be replaced. But in all honesty, my own track record is not that great.
Once I lost a car. It was a rental. I was on a business trip and I realized that I had forgotten to pack a tie. Before my meeting I located a Macy’s store in a large mall at the end of town. When I returned to the parking lot after securing a rather nice golden silk tie, I couldn’t remember where I had parked. I also couldn’t remember what kind of car I had rented. Or the color. I spent the next thirty minutes walking around the parking lot pressing the key fob hoping the car would flash and identify itself. It never did.
It turns out I had also lost the parking lot. There were two. I was walking aimlessly in the North Lot. My car was in the South Lot. That’s what Avis explained to me in the nasty letter they sent after I returned a set of keys without a white Taurus, license number LST 010.
As uncomfortable as it is losing a car in the mall though, nothing compares with the panic of losing a child in the mall.
James James Morrison Morrison (commonly known as Jim)
Told his other relations not to go blaming him.
James James said to his mother, "Mother," he said, said he:
"You must never go down to the end of the town without consulting me."
I am not going to say that this happened to me, but if it had, I would have felt the blood drain from my face and my heart rise up in my throat. I would have screamed out his name hoping that he was nearby. I would have quickly retraced my steps in the mall calling out his name over and over wondering why I hadn’t outfitted him with a car battery and a horn so that I could just press my key fob and locate him.
Yes, if something like that had happened to me, I probably would have felt a nauseating sense of relief after a garbled page echoed throughout the mall trying to locate the lost father of a small boy who was safely at the mall security desk. I would have scooped him up and held him so tight that the label on my jacket would have been imprinted on this forehead, and from that day forward people would forever identify him as The North Face boy. He’s the boy who belongs to that loser Dad who doesn’t label anything, you know.
James James Morrison's mother hasn't been heard of since.
King John said he was sorry, so did the Queen and Prince.
King John (somebody told me) said to a man he knew:
If people go down to the end of the town, well, what can anyone do?"
That’s why I can’t really get angry at my kids for losing things.
But one thing is for sure, if something that embarrassing had happened to me—and I’m not saying it did—I would have said the words that any relieved father would have said to his son after such an ordeal: “Let’s not tell mommy about this, OK?”
(Now then, very softly)
J.J.M.M.W.G.Du P.
Took great C/0 his M***** though he was only 3.
J.J. said to his M***** "M*****," he said, said he:
"You-must-never-go-down-to-the-end-of-the-town-if-you-don't-go-down-with-ME!"*
*The poem is Disobedience, by AA Milne. It is the only poem that I have ever memorized, except for Beans, Beans the Magical Fruit.
© 2009 Dadinthebox.com