deb roush

We all have the things that folks will say about us when we’re not around. “How long have you known Deb?” someone might ask as I walk away to grab my fourth glass of Chardonnay in order to endure the Pampered Chef party I have attended, having violated my personal policy of avoiding those shindigs – candles, make-up, lingerie, fake silver jewelry – where you are forced to buy something just because you know the hostess.

“Deb, yah, I’ve known her a couple of years. She’s pretty fun to be around. She’s got good kids; her daughter babysits for me sometimes. She’s in public relations for the school district and is fairly active in the community. I think the worst thing about her is that she’s just so opinionated.”

Let me tell you, that last part just isn’t true. Sure, I am opinionated, and I admit to offending my fair share of acquaintances. It’s a trait I come by honestly. I’m the preverbal acorn sitting on the ground two inches from the trees. Growing up, it wasn’t Thanksgiving dinner unless we were debating the welfare system or arguing the need to regulate fuel emissions. Loudly. A conservative ex-reporter who follows politics and is a news junkie, whatever the topic, I’ve got some thoughts on it.

But the worst thing about me isn’t being opinionated. It’s that I lose things.

When I was about 12, and Lacoste was the all-the-rage brand name that graced our polo shirts, my dad, thoughtfully, bought me a solid gold alligator charm that I could wear on one of my gold chains. I lost it within an hour in the chaos of the Christmas wrapping paper. Years later, as an adult, my mom paid hundreds of dollars for a gold charm bracelet she presented to me for a special birthday gift. Unbeknown to me, it fell off my wrist in the parking lot of my office building. I posted a reward for it but it was never found. My wedding ring, over a carat in diamonds, disappeared around the holidays several years ago. My son Kyle, then about eight, had spent his own money on my Christmas gift, a ring that was colorful costume jewelry from the “sale” at his elementary school. I remember removing my wedding ring to try it on. By January, when my finger had turned a solid shade of green from its “gold” wearing away, I checked my jewelry box for my wedding ring. Gone. I blamed Christmas wrap again, but maybe that was just the alligator experience rearing its ugly head.

Mostly, the things I lose are not valuable, except to me. In high school, I had a favorite royal blue sweatshirt that said “Malibu” across the front in a sassy, white font. I thought it made me look Baywatchish as it hung off my shoulder in kind of a sexy way. I left it at an out-of-town track meet. I would say more of my socks disappear from the dryer than anyone else in the family, but I might just be paranoid. It has gotten to the point that when I make a purchase, I sometimes consider if the item is worth buying because I’ll probably lose it.

A few weeks ago, I was traveling with my dear friend Suzanne when I began diligently searching for something I had just put down in the hotel room and couldn’t retrieve for the life of me. “You must have too many things if you are you’re always losing them,” she suggested. That made me stop and think. Maybe I do have too much stuff and always have. Or possibly I just don’t value stuff. Maybe I move too fast, am always thinking of the next thing and don’t pay enough attention to the task – or thing – at hand. Either way, I’m not sure it’s something I’m going to be able to change. Or even want to. To be candid, it has never bothered me that I lost my wedding ring. Insurance covered it, and my husband bought me a pretty new diamond. Even better, my dad gave me his mom’s band and I now wear that. To me, the most important thing is that I have my husband. There’s even a silver lining in losing things – occasionally I find the things I lose. And every single time it’s a gift. I’m elated, my heart races a little and it brings joy to my day. I even give a little silent shout-out to God. Just today, after walking into the office building I had to return to my car because I had left my travel mug filled with coffee in it – again. And as I reached in and glanced over to the passenger seat I noticed, with a little thrill and smile, that wedged between the seat and its back was the gorgeous green Peridot earring I had been missing for several weeks.

After further inspection, it looks like the most awful thing about me – that I lose things – really isn’t all that bad. Doesn’t it say much more about me that, glass-half-full, I revel in the finding and don’t suffer the losses?

That’s my opinion, anyway.