Don't Rush Me
Someone swiped my stuff (and other things)
October 06, 2010 - You know your karma needs cleansing when your "friends" kick you whilst your feeling down. Can someone pass me a soul-sponge or something, cuz I must of upset the gods some where along the way.
Let me backup and fill you folks in and then you can tell me if my aura is askew . . .
Once upon a time, a couple of weeks ago, a nice young man (that would be me) penned an informative, educational and witty column on a pestilence taking over from the south. Wrote he (me):
"For a while now I've been reading about the increase of "undesirables" in the states south of us . . . But the more I read of the invasion of these darker, reddish-brown skinned unwanteds, the more I thought we needed to beef up protection of our southern border. I wanted all vehicles inspected . . . Now it is too late. They are already here. Even in Michigan bedbugs are back. (What? Did you think I was talking about illegal aliens. No, I wanted the border between Michigan and Ohio put on high-alert . . .)"
The extremely intelligent and caring man's work was published in print and on-line. The days, turned to nights and in a few days (two days after the literary masterpiece hit the streets) he received a phone call from a woman.
"Mr. Rush, my name is Mary," said she to he. "I do not find your article comparing undesirables from the south to bedbugs, nice. I am 100 percent Mexican American. My sons are productive members of society . . . my great grandfather came from 'south of the border.' . . . if you did this in Detroit instead of here, your office would be bombed."
And on it went. The affable writer, told his adoring fan of a reader, to write a letter to the editor, ended the conversation and went on executing the rest of the days duties . . . things like helping the poor (paying taxes to a broke government), feeding the hungry (dropping bits of a sandwich on the ground so insects, birds, and other small critters can eat) and spreading joy and happiness wherever he went.
Then he went home . . . and found he'd been robbed.
* * *
Which is enough background information you all need. Yep, I went home found while I was at work, being a productive member of society, someone (or someones) entered my dwelling and stole stuff.
They pinched an old camera collection, some "newer" silver dollars I was saving for my sons, some miscellaneous coins from my collection and a fifth of Bushmill Irish whiskey.
I admit I was pretty unphased by that. I was shocked and saddened, but not upset. I called the coppers, filed my report and went on with life. It was just stuff, nothing of real importance. That was a Friday. That night, the boys and I had pizza and on Saturday we picked up my mom and traveled to Kalamazoo to meet the rest of the clan at the Irish Fest. We got home early Sunday (about midnight) and when I finally opened up my fridge (the first time since I had since I left for work on Friday morning), I saw a cigarette butt had been snuffed out on the top shelf.
I know. My karma alarm should have been ringing.
It wasn't, or if it was I wasn't paying attention. Fast forward to this weekend, I happened upon an open and empty cloth change purse (you know, the little cloth ones grandmas use for spare change) in one of my bedroom drawers. And, I felt a little sick. Empty. Which would mean an 1893 Columbus Half Dollar was gone as was an 1864 two cent piece . . . and, gulp, my 1974 bronze Star Trek Lives! medallion.
I've had that danged medallion since about 1975 or 1976. It was cool, with both Kirk and Spock on one side and the Enterprise on the other. It was numbered, a collector's item. Rat smackin' frackin #$@#$%&! not the Star Trek Lives! medallion!
And, yet -- still -- my self-karma detection devices remained silent.
I finally vented. I turned to my social networking page and told what I discovered missing . . . and here are some of the responses my "friends" posted after reading of my plight.
"Your trekiness cannot be stolen....I'm surprised you copped to having one of those...NERD."
"You better move out of the neutral zone, away from the Klingons and Romulans."
"Not the Star Trek medallion!!! So sad :( ...Wait... OMG...did you say they took your whiskey too?!?!"
* * *
Thanks for your undying caring and sympathies, my "friends."
* * *
So, it must be I have disrupted the cosmic space dust around me. Here and now, I pledge: I will no longer say bedbugs are "unwanted," "undesirable," or describe them as having "darker, reddish-brown skin."
May God forgive me.
Don is Assistant Publisher for Sherman Publications, Inc. He has worked for the company since 1985. He has won numerous awards for column, editorial and feature writing as well as for photography. He has two, sons Shamus and Sean and resides in the area. To read archived copies of his columns, click on his name, just under his picture up top . . . He can be e-mailed at: firstname.lastname@example.org