By Jason Sethre
Publisher
Fillmore County Journal
jason@fillmorecountyjournal.com
Do you remember the last winter storm we endured? Five days later it was t-shirt weather. That’s spring in Minnesota. A rollercoaster of emotionally-charged forecasts.
I won’t forget that winter wonderland anytime soon. That’s the day I lost the keys to my 2006 Toyota Sienna mini-van, and then I’m pretty sure I lost my mind.
After moving snow for a joyous couple of hours at home, I arrived at work to move more of the white stuff. I walked in the office, said hello with a typical Monday morning watercooler conversation, and then head back out the door with shovel in hand.
After I was done shoveling snow and then salting the sidewalks, I went to grab my keys out of my coat pocket. They were gone. I figured I must have left them on my desk.
Nope.
I retraced my steps around the office thinking that I could have placed them somewhere while in conversation. I’ve done a really good job with losing my keys and my glasses over the years. I’ll sit down at a desk, get something done, get distracted by another task, and then walk away to do something else. It’s like a game of hide-and-seek, but I’m the only participant.
One time, I lost the keys to our 2006 Toyota Sienna for an entire week. Eventually, I found them in the pocket of a coat I only wear when cutting slab wood. Buried in sawdust, there it was. And, I had checked everywhere. It was in the last place I would have thought.
On this most recent occasion, after hours of a fruitless search, I called my wife to tell her I lost the keys, requesting she bring me the spare set.
Fortunately, we do have a spare set, but it makes me feel uncomfortable knowing that if I lost the extra set, we’re in trouble. And, my track record proves I’m very capable.
From Monday through Thursday that week, I lost some sleep and spent more time than I’d like to admit retracing my steps, all because of these lost keys.
Along comes Roman Yoder, who wanted to meet with me to discuss the tuckpointing and brick replacement project he’ll be doing on the Fillmore County Journal building. At this point, the warm weather and sunshine had the streets of Preston flowing like tributaries merging in every direction as they filled the storm sewers. The melt was on.
As Roman and I discussed the project, walking around the front side of the building, I saw something black resting in the bright white snow. I leaned in a little closer and noticed that it looked like a set of keys. Low and behold, I found my keys. I picked them up and pressed the remote to unlock my mini-van, and it worked.
Thanks to Roman for coming along to have that conversation outside when he did. I could rest easy.
It definitely made me think, though. All of the anxiety. The uncertainty. Retracing my steps. Wasted time and energy.
For me, patience is defined by waiting for the snow to melt so you can find out where you lost your keys.
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