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The Golden Years

By       Message Katie Roberta Stevens       (Page 1 of 1 pages)     Permalink    (# of views)   No comments

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View Ratings | Rate It Headlined to H4 5/27/11

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After retiring as a Superintendent of Schools, my husband collected his loose change in a coffee can.   When the dull coins neared the top of the blue can, he decided to take it to the local grocery store to cash it for our upcoming trip to Las Vegas.   As we drove to the store, he said, "You take it and put it through the coin machine. I'm embarrassed."   I agreed to do it, but the coffee can was way too heavy for me to carry into the store and lift high enough to pour the change into the CoinStar machine near the cash registers. So, my husband joined me after all.  

Together, we lifted the can and leaned over in amazement as the coin machine devoured the quarters, nickels and dimes.   The steady clanging of change was music to our ears as the digital counter totaling our stash climbed even higher.   Every now and then, there was silence as we reached in to take out a button or token that had accidentally been placed into the coffee can during the year.   We laughed and high-fived each other when our stash totaled $200.00 and was still counting.   We turned our attention back to the machine and our heads were nearly touching sides as we watched in delight with our backs towards the rest of the supermarket.   We were in our own little world when my husband was suddenly tapped on his shoulder.   We both turned to see the long time County Superintendent of Schools, who met with my husband for years at the county's monthly Superintendent's Round Table meetings.   His beige suit was in sharp contrast to my husband's too-short blue gym shorts and too-tight Under Armor tee shirt.   The county superintendent's face opened into a wide grin.   He pointed to our scratched Maxwell House Coffee can of change and chuckled, "Frank, is this what happens to you when you retire?" We all had a good laugh.  

What are the chances of this happening?   Just one month later, I sent my husband to the next town to a Laundromat to dry a bulky comforter that didn't fit in our dryer.   He first made a stop at the drug store and then parked his black Lincoln Continental in front of a pizza place next door to the Laundromat.   He felt out of place as he walked into the mildewy establishment to place the white, down comforter into the dryer.   He didn't appreciate the clientele lurking around the washers and dryers, so he decided to wait outside and clean the inside of his car while our comforter tumbled.  When the car interior was clean, he tossed a handful of trash into the outside container, picked up the comforter and then headed for home.

As soon as he placed his keys on the kitchen table, he realized that he was missing the bag that contained his purchase from the drug store.   It dawned on him that while cleaning his car, he had accidentally thrown-out his very expensive diabetes test strips that he had placed on the front seat in a white plastic bag.   He drove quickly back to the pizza restaurant's trash can and searched furiously for the pharmacy bag.   As he did, old soda cups splashed brown coke spots on his cream colored golf shirt.   Sweat rolled down his reddened face.    As he wiped droplets from his eyes, his filthy hands smeared trashcan dust across his cheeks.  


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Katie Roberta Stevens has worked as a professional grant writer for public school districts for the last 14 years. Prior to that, she taught high school English and enjoyed coaching and serving as the advisor to various high school clubs. Stevens (more...)

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