This past week, I officiated a boys basketball high school JV and freshman doubleheader here in the Milwaukee metro area. The freshman game was very sloppy. Lots of fouls. Kids were taking an extra step and we had to put a whistle on them to curtail traveling. Bad decisions abounded.
 
When that happens, as a basketball referee, it is hard. I’m not sure how much fans, coaches and players recognize this.
 
When you finish, your mind is worn out (to say nothing of your body). You’ve been making instantaneous tough decisions for over an hour – yes/no, let it go/blow the whistle, inbounds/out-of-bounds, contact that doesn’t affect speed/balance vs. contact that does affect speed/balance. In what other job must you be highly effectively (correct, consistent and judicious) in an intense emotional and physical environment? Not very many.
 
You cannot rest physically or mentally. You cannot rest in the game, nor can you expect someone to give you credit as you enter the next game because you must perform again.

You must be a lunch bucket guy. You must bring your lunch bucket EVERY day to EVERY game and perform. There are no days off.

I’ve use those statements often in describing what I do to others. When you enter a school, you start a new day, a new game, and what you did yesterday doesn’t matter. Your reputation doesn’t matter. You better bring your lunch bucket because you go to work again and must prove yourself.
 
At the freshman game noted above, there was a father in the stands who clearly appreciated how my partner and I officiated the contest. You might be surprised, but observant officials recognize these things. You see certain body language things that stand out. After the game, before the JV contest, he was down near the scorer’s table and he had a brief enjoyable interaction with me.
 
He immediately spoke in sincere appreciation (you know when it’s sincere) of the job my partner and I had done on the court. I thanked him and mentioned how tough the game was.
 
I said to him (more or less), “I’m not sure people understand how hard a game like this is to officiate. There are so many decisions to make on the court. The kids are sloppy. You have to let some contact go. You also must stay consistent. It doesn’t work well if you and your partner aren’t on the same page. Parents, coaches and players can complain and want a certain call to go there way, and you can’t blow your whistle all night. That would exhaust everyone.”
 
The point being that you are working hard every minute of that game being the lunch bucket guy, grinding it out, getting it done to the best of your ability. The next night you will do it again. And the next.
 
For the record, two other fathers that night came up to me and thanked me and spoke about how well-officiated the contest was, something my partner and I appreciated. There’s a lot written about the lack of support for sports officials, and there is no question there are nasty fans with unrealistic expectations, and coaches who act out rather than coaching their kids.
 
I’m not sure those fans or coaches understand the lunch bucket nature of what sports officials do. If they did, they might thank us a little more often. We’re not in it for the money or prestige.

​When someone recruits you, it feels good. You are flattered. Someone sees something inside you that perhaps others (maybe not even yourself) see in you.
 
You can be recruited for many things – a bridge partner,  a new job, for a sports team. That recruitment can be for a multitude of reasons, but in essence it’s still about them wanting you.
 
Recently, fairly suddenly, I found myself being recruited. I didn’t seek this. In fact, the recruitment was something I was not interested in.
 
As a player on two senior men’s baseball teams in separate leagues, I’m reasonably busy with games during the Wisconsin summer (Tuesdays and Saturdays, May-September). I don’t make every game, but I’m committed and participate in as many as possible.

I love the games, practice, hanging out with friends/teammates, appreciating the challenges of still hitting a sharp breaking ball or making a one-handed stab on a scorching liner. That pumps me up.
 
The games also take a toll. Stiff joints, sore and pulled muscles, aching elbows and knees cause you to pause and say inside your head, “Is the added pain worth the fun?” So far in my aging years, that answer has been “yes.”
 
Two weeks ago, the call came. A guy from one of the other teams called me. There is a new league in the Milwaukee metro area, which started recently (the only such league in the United States to my knowledge), for players age 70-and-over.  I hit 70 this month.
 
The manager was waiting. He knew my birthday and wanted me to join his club. It was nice to hear. He tried to sell me on various options – just play enough games to qualify for the playoffs; play only when they need an extra player. They know how to draw you in, then wham, you’re playing every week.

That’s what those recruiters do. They get inside you. They get you thinking, playing various scenarios through your head.

I remained steadfast as he ran through his list on how I could participate and help them out. I mentioned all my negatives: already playing in two leagues; need time for the body to recuperate; want time to play golf; three days a week ties up too much time; potential injuries; other things I want to do during the Wisconsin summer months.
 
He accepted this, ultimately, but it didn’t stop from another inquiry coming in (those recruiters must talk to each other). This one I jettisoned even more quickly, as I had my reasons already articulated.

I get it. Guys who play sports at this stage of life are totally into it. I enjoy most aspects (standing on an astroturf infield for 25 minutes in a long inning during 88-degree, 90 percent humidity is not one of them) of the game. But I don’t rage to play. I’m competitive and want to make the plays in the field, jack the ball at the plate, imbibe a bit afterwards and shoot the breeze. Twice a week is enough.

When someone comes after you in the recruitment process it can be a good or bad thing. Weigh your options. Make sure your decision covers the good and bad. It was flattering and a bit weird for me getting the phone calls. Not gonna happen this year, but you never know.

​Does the outcome of a live sporting event really matter? Not really.
 
Over the past several years, I’ve developed the habit of recording any sporting event I plan to watch on television – golf, college basketball, college football, Major League Baseball, the NFL. For the most part, this is done to fast forward through commercials and dead time in games (see: video review situations).
 
Those time wasters/killers (along with commercials) add tremendous length to any televised contest. When first recording pro football years ago, for example, I only programmed to the actual length of the game. It soon became apparent (due to the reasons noted above) that not enough time was being allocated to see the whole game. I had to go to the extended time. Rather than ending the recording with the expected finish to the game, I had to click additional buttons to extend it 15 minutes, then 30 and now one hour extra is the standard to be safe you get the full game. Whoooo boy.
 
Appreciating the joys of fast forwarding through commercials, timeouts and video review, these recordings became mandatory. Slowly, insidiously, it became quite difficult to watch a sporting event on the tube in real time. Advertisements got in the way. Dead time in the game bored me.
 
Another factor was at work though in terms of why recording became more important. I started to find it just doesn’t really matter who wins or loses. Yeah, we all root for certain teams. We care. We want them to win. And, I am rabid at times.
 
It’s that rabid feeling that makes recording sensible. Let’s start with a short story.
 
My dad, Herm, played football for Bucknell University after WWII. He was their starting center for three years. He rooted for the Bison until the day he died, giving money, reading their newsletter regularly, knowing who the star players were.

Near the end of his life in his mid-80’s, we went to see a Bucknell game in-person, including spending time in the locker room to hear the coach do his thing. Herm was like a kid, his eyes sparkling, unable to stand still, all hyped up. Once the game started, it got worse. I did not know these things about him. He couldn’t stop his leg from jiggling.
 
His leg bounced up and down like a pogo stick the entire game. You could see him hyper-ventilating. He shifted continuously in his seat. I couldn’t figure it out. I asked if he was okay, and he looked at me with saucer pupils and nodded, “I’m just nervous about the game,” he said.
 
I thought to myself, “This is my 85-year-old father and he can’t sit still for a football team because he is so pumped up.”
 
We have blood of our parents inside us, and when I root for a team I care about these days, I better understand my dad’s jumpiness. I get wired. If the game is on late and it is close, I can’t sleep afterwards. I’m too drained.
 
What do I do? I turn the game off, knowing I have it recorded and will watch the final in the morning. And, egads, as I have done this more and more, I’ve found I’m not wired about the win or loss. I still care, but winning or losing doesn’t cause me to lose sleep. Instead, I sleep, then find out the score the next morning and watch the delayed game. All is good. The sun rose.
 
Does the outcome matter? Yes, emotionally. No, in the grand score of life. The game may be your passion. Recording it gives you perspective and some distance. You wake up refreshed from a good night’s sleep, then when you access the score online you scream in joy or pain.

​We all have many opportunities to meet new people. That can occur through day-to-day experiences, randomly, through business, meetings, introductions by others, at our place of worship, and a multitude of other ways. The point being: we can put ourself into new situations or stick to our current relationships.
 
I’m going to throw a statistic out there. For those regular readers of this column, you know I referee basketball. As a basketball official, I’m thrown in with new partners over and over and over. To me, that’s a good thing. It’s a learning experience to work with someone new, and they almost always teach you something (which could be good or bad). And, you may make a new friend (wasn’t it Roy Rogers who said something to the effect of, “A stranger is just a friend I haven’t met yet.”).
 
Here’s the stat. Over the past three years, I’ve tracked my basketball officiating partners. During that time, I have reffed with 147 new individuals. Breathe that in.
 
Now, step back. Think about your work situation or your neighbors. Have you met someone new in either of these venues in the past few years (or weeks or months)? No value judgment about this. Just an interesting exercise to consider who has entered your life during this time period in any significant way (doesn’t mean you must have an ongoing relationship; just someone who you’ve hung out with or done something with, worked on a project together, things like that).
 
If you have new people you’ve met and engaged with, have you picked up something new from any of them? Have your grown through those meetings?
 
Back to my basketball partners. The fascinating thing to me, first of all, is the large number of new officials I’ve been introduced to the past three years. That’s about 50 individuals a year. I must work with them closely. I must trust them. I must get to know them (at least in a perfunctory way because we’re going to be making high intensity decisions in a very emotional environment over the next 75 minutes or so in a high school varsity game).
Beyond trust and getting to know each individual, secondly, I pick up something from every new official. They may explain something verbally during our pregame that prepares me for the upcoming contest. They may step forward on a play during the game that we discuss afterwards and it helps me understand a rule better. They may handle an explosive coach with a special phrase, and I add that to my repertoire afterwards.
 
Third, and this gets into aging a bit, as I get older, there seem to be fewer situations where you are introduced to new people. The basketball court gives me those opportunities.
 
I also learn things not to do, like not adopting a bullying or know-it-all tone of voice with my partners or coaches. I recognize situations where I need to hold back or step forward based on what I see and hear from my partners.
 
Finally, you develop new friends through meeting others and the relationships that ensue. You may find someone you hang out with for years and years.

It’s important to keep meeting people throughout life. They help us grow and develop. Sports officiating is a great venue to experience this.

​Hard to believe it’s 2026. As like 2024, in 2025 I kept a Jar of Positivity, writing down good things that have happened in my life. It helps identify what’s important in the day to day, and with focus on enjoying those things important to you. The list follows. As like last year’s column, it is interesting to note that almost all these involve relationships, experiences and being with friends.  In no particular order:
1.Visiting two friends in Peshtigo, WI, playing trivia night and going to the Wisconsin Girls High School Basketball semi-finals in Green Bay.
2.Long-term friend came up to visit from Chicago after joining our senior baseball team. Hanging out with him for the night and going to indoor practice to introduce him to his new teammates.
3.Our two nephews’ weddings. Went to NASA, got some great barbecue, wild man dancing, saw a childhood friend for drinks, drank some great coffee, caught up with some cousins and friends from Dallas. Explored downtown Chicago, hung out behind the band watching the drummer and lead singer. Super.
4.Golf with my younger brother on a nearly empty course near Harvard, IL, temps around 55 degrees, cloudy. We scrambled to one-over par with two mulligans. I hit the crap out of the ball.
5.Trip to Maine and seeing my wife’s side of the family, along with two of our kids. Two rounds of golf at a scenic seaside course, shooting 7-under in a 4-person scramble, ferrying to an island for an e-bike tour; great dinners, sights, companionship and smells of the ocean.
6.Annual Wisconsin Security Association golf outing.
7.Annual reunion of our Kankakee, IL Traitor softball team at Oak Springs Golf Course.
8.Shooting 80 on the golf course with two buddies. A thunderstorm forced us off the course while I was playing great. Two of us waited it out, went back to play the last five holes and I missed a 17-footer for a 79 on the last hole.
9.Went from a 46 on the front nine to a 39 on the back nine at the Mayville Golf Course and had back-to-back birdies.
10.Ran the 800, 400 and 200 for the sixth year in the Wisconsin Masters Games, bettering my time in each event from the previous year. Training helps.
11.Boat trip down the Chicago River for our younger daughter’s birthday.
12.U.S. Women’s Open with my two daughters, and seeing the Comedian Nikki Glaser along with a good dinner out for a father-daughters weekend.
13.Summerfest with my younger brother and his wife. One of Milwaukee’s fun events on the lakefront. Riding the gondola, food, beer, bands.
14.Serving as a clinician in Pennsylvania for basketball officials seeking to move up to the collegiate level.
15.Annual golf, eating, drinking, storytelling, campfire reunion with my two brothers and our three sons.
16.Reunion in Chicago with college friends from our freshman-sophomore year, along with some golf. Cruised out to Lake Michigan.
17.Continuing quest to break 80 on the golf course, shot 82 at Mayville again, with three tap-in birdies. No wind, no clouds, 50 degrees out. Played in two hours.
18.Going to the NCAA golf tournament with two friends in Urbana, IL.
19.Multiple coffee chats with a good friend. It’s like therapy.
20.Morning catch-ups with three guys at the fitness facility where I work out. More therapy. Great conversations.
21.A friend of mine from Chicago who I interviewed years ago for a story who has since written a book, and said my writing inspired him. Wow. Never expected that one.
22.Officiating South Milwaukee High School on the road, and they get blown out in the basketball game, and the coach chases myself and my two partners out of the gym to shake our hands and tell us what a great job we did.
23.Younger bro and wife driving up from Illinois for my birthday.
24.Officiating the annual Badger basketball games, where 5th-8th grade teams from all over the state bring teams down to the Milwaukee metro area to compete for the state championship.
25.Hanging out with a long-term officiating buddy at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee basketball game.
26.Reunion with three college buddies from the University of Illinois, doing some bowling, having them watch me referee, and the four of us continuing our jinx of making sure Illinois loses the football game against Wisconsin that Saturday.
 
If you don’t keep a Jar of Positivity, I suggest you start in 2026. Write things down. Put them in a jar. Reread them at the end of the year. Your life will be enhanced.

​Have you heard of the Exploding Head Syndrome (EHS)? It is rampant in modern society.
 
Older people are particularly susceptible. You may have had EHS and not even known it, because the symptoms are confusing and insidious.
 
Me? I’ve been infected many times. It hurts. Feels like you’re going nuts.
 
And, of course, because your head pulsates and throbs, it feels like it’s going to explode. EHS is similar to PABVIYF disease (popping a blood vessel in your forehead).
 
How do you get it? The answer to that is easy. Is there a cure? The answer to that is no because EHS is complicated by many variables.
 
The symptoms start slowly, typically on a day that seems normal. You’ve gone online to take care of business. While you haven’t explored a new app that you must now use to get paid for services you’ve performed, you’ve been assured it’s simple, quick, easy to download and apply. Yup, sure thing. Is your forehead sizzling an egg yet? Mine was.
 
First step was to access the system. This, for some odd reason, didn’t happen. I’d used this site many times before, but “access denied” came up the first two times I clicked it on. Through my massive powers of deductive reasoning, I figured out you had to go to the bottom of the page to click on “About” and then go to the top of the page to hit “My Account.” Okay, only a slight pounding in the forehead so far. Irritation.
 
To step back for one second, you have to know that I thought I’d already set up the payment system, which is designed to electronically transfer a check to this site, where you then transfer their payment to your bank. I’d successfully – so I thought – set this up a couple of months back. Getting on to transfer the funds, I found out I hadn’t so successfully inputted my bank information so I could complete the electronic transfer. My brain started to feel fuzzy.
 
From there, the onslaught of EHS symptoms grew exponentially. Where do I input my bank information? No matter what or where I clicked, nothing came up that allowed that data upload. Try this, try that. No way.
 
I click on the video, which demonstrates how to put in the bank info. The person talks so fast that I can’t process the information and go back and forth from the video to the site to make the changes. You can’t pause the video, so I start to become a crazy man.
 
I look for other directions, tapping the keyboard, sending it to confusing drop-down menus into the dark mineshaft. Nothing there.
 
Twice I send emails asking for help, once to the direct address they list, and a second time in response to the video when it asks “was this helpful” and I wrote, “hell f….cking no.” Of course there is no quick response to either of these emails.
 
I attempt to calm down. That’s no help. I yell up to my wife, “I’m very angry. I’m raising my voice and it has nothing to do with you, please understand. I’m raging.” My blood pressure continues ascending.
 
Breathe deeply. Focus. Think about where you haven’t gone yet on the site. There must be a way.
 
After almost an hour (that may not sound like much, but with EHS it feels like 3-4 hours), TADA!, there it is. I could not replicate how I got there, but I got there. Put in the banking information. Downloaded in seconds. Yahoo. Transferred the funds to my banking account. So dang easy.
 
It really was. You just needed to know how to get there. It is simple to use. It’s just not a simple process to get there. That’s the indication you could face EHS. Then you flush the return email from the website three days later asking if you still need help resolving your problem. Thanks for that excellent customer service.

​I’m a believer in the responsiveness of our elected officials in the United States. Maybe I shouldn’t be. We vote. They should represent us and respond to our concerns.
 
It becomes clearer each year that is less and less likely. Case in point is a recent personal situation.
 
My Medicare premium tripled this month. When I saw that my payments would escalate exponentially, I almost toppled over. WTF!?!?
 
It did not make sense. Congress had just come out of its budgetary nightmare of non-decision-making and it seemed to me that maybe my increase was due to their inaction on this issue.

So, I wrote to my U.S. Senators in Wisconsin, Tammy Baldwin (D) and Ron Johnson (R), asking for an explanation. Please note, I did not ask them to resolve or fix anything. Instead, please, I would just like to know what’s going on. And I added a line about leaving politics out of it. Just explain to me why my Medicare premium went up the elevator to the third floor.
 
Let the record reflect, I also attempted to contact my Congressman, Mark Fitzgerald (R), and his website was so utterly useless that there was no way to send him an email or other electronic message. I guess he does not like to be reached.
 
We all have preconceptions about what we’ll hear back from elected officials, how quickly they will respond and will they say anything helpful. I’ve written to my elected local, state and federal officials many times during my years on this planet with differing results, mostly obfuscated responses to the issue I raised.
 
So, here goes. Johnson’s staff got back to me within days. Good. I was asked for additional information. I sent it, and was then immediately connected to another staff person who works the issue. She took my info and quickly sent a form I had to fill out that would go over to the Social Security office. I figured that would be the black hole.
 
Actually, I was surprised and in a reasonable timeframe (1-2 weeks) they got back to me with a full explanation and offered to go over my change and see if something could be reworked. Because I understood their explanation and why my premium had gone up, I didn’t need to have that meeting, but thanked them, and Johnson’s staff members who worked on the issue for me.
 
Baldwin’s staff took much longer to get back to me (2-3 weeks longer than Johnson’s staff). They offered no help. Instead, they sent a classic, “We work had to keep premiums down and will keep working for you.” They didn’t answer my questions. They didn’t give me any help. Their note was classic “write-around” language, putting things in such a way that it sounded like they were doing something for their constituents, but you didn’t really know what it was.

I write this column because I expect more. I don’t expect some immediate change to my life. But, I think it’s fair that those who represent us are responsive and open to concerns that we raise, and egads, maybe even take steps to address issues occasionally.
 
Everyone who votes deserves this connection to the people who represent them. It’s a small thing to ask: response to my question, explain what’s going on, offer a step or solution that might help. We all deserve that respect.

​I waited to write this column. If the name above doesn’t register with you, there should be no compulsion to read on. Except, there’s an underlying issue that goes beyond college football coaching (which is Kiffin’s profession) that will emerge in the paragraphs to follow.
 
Three, maybe four weeks ago, Kiffin’s name was repeatedly in the headlines. Because he was so short-term famous, I waited to write about him until his moment in the news evaporated.
 
During his two-week (more or less) stay in the limelight, the sports news media, and the media at large to a lesser extent, wrote and reported story after story after story about him. Not news. Speculation.
 
Where’s he gonna go? Which schools are trying to hire his services. For backdrop, at the time, Kiffin was the head football coach at the University of Mississippi, and had a great record. He was sought after.

The speculation was the story. His name, based on sources who could say whatever they wanted, associated him with various college football coaching openings. “He’s going here. No, he’s going to this other school.” No one really knew, but the talking heads all wanted to speculate.

Beyond trying to predict where he’d go, there was the underlying prognosticating on why he would go to one university or another. “What’s the best fit? Who needs him the most? Who’s willing to pay the multiple millions of dollars to reel him in?”
 
Will it be Florida? Oh, we need to do that story. How about Penn State? Someone better put together that article.
 
What do the players think? Oh boy, that’s another angle. Let’s interview them.
 
All the pre-hire stories are based on who has the inside scoop. Who appears to have the most accurate information on which to base an opinion?
 
Over the course of his hiring (by Louisiana State University – LSU), there were easily 25 stories that came up on my news feed, probably more. And the pre-hiring stories were not the end of it.
 
No, then we had to read after his hiring about how LSU reeled him in, why he made that choice, what that meant to his former players at Mississippi. Who cares?
 
Who the heck is Lane Kiffin? Why is he so important?
 
The onslaught is indicative of how the media currently seem to define news. They decide what to report on. As news consumers, we react to that. We can ignore these types of stories (something I typically do) or you have to roll with what they put out. In the grand scheme of things, Lane Kiffin is not important. He was made important by the media for a couple of weeks.
 
This is big time sports. This is about money, exposure, publicity, speculation. Who cares?
 
This is our culture today. You can escape though. Ignore the stories is the best step. Beyond that, I suggest shoveling snow. Read a book. Go fishing. Mow the grass. Rake some leaves. Chop wood. Plant a tree. You’ll feel better not just because those are productive activities, but also because you are engaged in an activity rather than being led around by air-brushed talking heads pontificating and trying to show just how important their voice is.

​There is probably one of those books, “Microwaves for Dummies,” already written. If not, someone needs to quickly put it together, and perhaps add a caveat – “Microwaves for Seniors.” Or, “Microwaves for Seniors Who Can’t Read the Fine Print of the Instructions.”
 
These is a problem for those of us heading down the Old Codgerville path. Appliances which should be simple, isn’t.
 
Why isn’t it?  For one, whoever develops microwaves makes their use non-intuitive. While this applies to a lot of newer electronic technologies, the microwave developers seem to hold a special place in their heart for coming up with ways to confuse you in terms of how to operate the machine.

For example, shouldn’t there be a quick turn on/off function.?This button starts it. This button turns it off. This button allows you to set the timing.
 
No, this does not seem to be the case with many microwaves. If you happen to travel and encounter a hotel microwave in the breakfast area, one in the room, or one in the kitchen of your VRBO home, trying to put 40 seconds on the timer to warm your coffee can turn into a disaster. This shouldn’t be the case.
 
Instead, you should see an icon that says, “if you press this button, it will allow you to determine the number of seconds you want to warm your dish.” I guess the problem is that’s too much language. Forget I wrote that.
 
I can remember many, many times going up to a foreign microwave and turning a button or tapping the screen in seven, eight, nine or more places and in different combinations and only getting the the word “bacon” to show up on the screen. Does everyone want bacon? Is bacon a default cookie cutter item that can also encompass asparagus, green beans, peas, corn and leftover hash? I doubt it.

You can, of course, keep hitting that bacon button until it warms your coffee (something I’ve done on more than one frustrated occasion). But that drives me crazy, too.
 
Complicated appliance directions written in small print is not limited to microwaves. I have a good friend who is baffled by his washing machine and wants a top loader with a warm/cold, on/off switch. No beeping allowed. No little singsong noise that tells you the door is either shut or still open. No blinking lights. Click, crank, start.
 
Yeah, he is on the Old Codgerville path, too, and a bit of a curmudgeon. He, like me, would like to eliminate the bells and whistles. We’d both probably go back to hand rolling the windows in our cars if the automobile manufacturers would oblige our age set with that nostalgia factor.

Sigh, but no, that’s not going to happen. We must embrace the future. We must battle and absorb technological innovation, to a certain degree at a minimum if we are to function in our current world.
 
That means reading the small print in directions, making sure your reading glasses are nearby so you’re always prepared for those situations. It means experimentation – playing with all the dials like a scientist to see what results. This works. Sometimes.
 
More often than not, we’re left frustrated, looking like dummies, which is why they write those books. Maybe the next round of those best sellers if to change “dummy” to “curmudgeon.” Might be a best seller.

​If you are like most modern first world humans, at some point you’ve misplaced your cell phone and achieved a level of paranoia when you can’t find it in a reasonable time period. Several weeks back, I reached a near manic level going through every option imaginable to find mine.
 
Here’s what happened. Obviously, number one, I tried to find my phone because I wanted to use it. This began the usual innocuous and successful search.

Where did I last remember having it? Where did I put it?
 
Thus began the exploratory process leading to exploding blood pressure levels and sweat trickling down my armpits. Secondly, I absolutely knew it was in the house because I remembered where I used it.

Third step was to begin looking at that location – the couch. Check the table, behind and under the cushions, underneath the couch if it fell on the ground. Nope.
 
Okay, where did I stroll in the house after that? Bedroom?  Perhaps. Check there, move the bed sheets, get down on knees and look underneath. Then, “oh yeah, maybe I went to the bathroom and laid it on the sink.” Check there. Negatory.
 
Step four, always look in my workspace, where I often place and forget it before wandering off. I go downstairs and move all my papers, foraging underneath and any open spaces, as well as underneath the table and in the chair (where it could fall or slip out of the pocket). Unsuccessful.
 
This led to step five, go to the easy chair where I watch TV and multiple crevices invite your phone to slide from your pocket as you lean back, and then fall deep down inside the seams. I stuck my hands in every conceivable crack, moved the couch out from its normal position, picking up the 19 stray M&Ms. Nothing.
 
I’m getting anxious. I know it’s in the house.

But, still, I go to step six, which is the car, where again, it easily slides from the pants pockets and deposits next to the driver’s seat. Extensive rummaging there reveals nothing.
 
Ah yes, why not call the cell? I have it on silent, that’s why. What a dummy. There’s got to be a workaround on that. My wife is not available. I text our kids.
 
I reach our younger daughter first. We talk it through as sweat trickles down my forehead after more than 30 minutes of manic meandering. How can you make the phone ring when the silencer is on?
 
She, like most of her generation, has the answer, figuring out the next steps and giving me a call. I hear the sound upstairs in the bedroom. Hmmmmmmmmm?
 
My jeans are hanging on my closet door. For some totally unexplainable reason, that afternoon I’d decided to change pants – which I never do – and left the phone in the pants’ pocket of the ones I changed out of.  Whew. Blood pressure de-escalates. I feel stupid. Usually it’s me finding stuff for other people. Now I’m the scatterbrained one.
 
Even when you retrace your steps, look in all the usual places, drive your brain into inconceivable (sanity-wise) scenarios, it doesn’t appear. Even with logic prevailing – “it absolutely has to be in the house” – your disbelieving reality mindset takes over and panic creeps in. I’m not sure we can ever stop that.
 
So, keep an eye on your cell phone. Commit to memory when you place it outside your normal parameters. I guess that’s my big advice. But, still, that’s predicated on you thinking about where you place it when you put it down, which is hard to do because the cell phone as become so routine in our life. So, I guess my other piece of advice is to keep the ringer on. That’s doable. But, when it rings it might interrupt your nap.