God Knows

  Have you seen that old commercial that asks, “Do you know where your children are?”  I got lost once when I was about 4 or 5.  It was silly because it was in a small place.  My home town, Willow Springs, Mo.  Not much bigger than a traveling circus.  We lived in the country and I don’t remember going to town much, so I wasn’t up to snuff on the layout.  Well, on this day, they had a shindig going on.  Gobs of folks.  Maybe a 100 or so.  I could smell the fatted calf being sacrificed for us carnivores.  The fat lady was singing.  Kids were running around, seemingly, just because.  Bouncing off each other.  Busting one another’s balloons.  Pigtails were being pulled by freckle faced boys.  There were sack races, hoola hoop contests, farmer’s market stuff, smells of hotdogs and hamburgers driving me crazy.  There was a weird little man standing on a flatbed trailer speaking into what looked like a chicken leg while it made sounds like a scalded cat [I have since learned that it was a politician, speaking over a protesting pa system, trying to get votes for Eisenhower]  and it was all very confusing to me.  And a little scary.  I started out holding my Dad’s hand, seeing not much more than the patches on people’s pants and that, because it was eye level.  So many overalled farmers wanted to spit (which kept me very alert) and shake my Dad’s hand that it wasn’t very long and I was just standing there, holding my empty hand up like I wanted permission to go to the bathroom.  That’s when it became painfully obvious that my hand was getting lonely.  I looked up and he was gone.  And I was on the wrong street of this two street town.  I was scared and started to cry.  I was at a slight disadvantage in being found.  First my plea just disappeared into the cacophony of noises, known as the black hole of celebration rant and then the sight trajectory of most of these  wild eyed celebrators was about 4 feet over my head, so they weren’t tuned in to my reality show.  After what seemed like years of indifference and rejection, my Dad relocated me.  It was good to be relocated…..very good.