The White Knight

I went to a party tonight -- a back yard barbecue, actually, where I only knew a few people, but I thought it was important to get out there and so I went. And I had a fine time.

At one point, this nice girl announced that she'd lost her wedding ring. So a number of us in the vicinity dropped to our knees searching the lawn with cell phones and pen lights and such. Actual flashlights were brought out and we did our best to look and she finally said, don't worry about it, it'll turn up.

But then, who knows? The more we walk around the better the chance it gets ground down into the soil. And suddenly I was taken back to childhood. We were visiting our cousins and their dog ran away. I was, I don't know, 8 or 10 or something, and I thought it all was pretty ridiculous. If a dog is stupid enough to run away, maybe he deserves what he gets. We were cat people. As Kramer said in Seinfeld when the cat ran away, "It's up to the cat now."

But dogs are different, I suppose. They can't be counted on to just come home eventually. But I didn't know that and I was sick and tired of looking and wanted to go home. And my cousin was very upset and asked, "What if this was your dog???" And I had nothing to say, because, again, we were cat people and there was just no comparison.

Anyway, my usual MO in a situation like this is to give it a quick perfunctory effort then give up. I mean, seriously, looking for a wedding ring in the middle of the night in a big back yard? 

But then I've been made aware that one of the things that make me a less-than-desirable prospect is that "youngest kid" syndrome I've got going. It's true that as the youngest I don't always have to step up and take the lead. There's always someone ahead of me to do that. And it's extended into adulthood, with my grandparents' death, my Dad's illness, etc.

But tonight, for some reason, when everyone else had taken her advice to shut off their flashlights and go back to the party, I didn't give up. And I expanded the search area beyond her parameters, and I had a really nice flashlight -- big and heavy, like a cop's -- and after a while, under a table, half-buried in some sand, I saw something shiny. Her wedding ring. 

She was beyond grateful. It wasn't the most extravagant ring on earth, but it was hers. Her wedding ring. And I found it. It felt so good to be the guy who ... well, wasn't me for a change. The finder. The leader. The one.

And then I left. Partly because I'd had all six of my 16-oz beers and had to get home on my bike. Partly because I'd run out of things to talk about and people to talk to. But mostly because I wanted to leave on a high note.

Go me.