When you can’t find all the pieces

By Jeff Becraft

 

Back in late November, my wife and I had swung by Charlotte to see our daughter, Hannah, for her birthday.  We went out to one of our favorite restaurants called Lang Van.  It’s not just that the food is great but the owners and workers have gotten to know Hannah and when we walk in the door, they make this big deal out of Hannah being there and come up and give her hugs… and even hug Brenda and me!

As we were driving to head back to Columbia, it was now late and dark.

I am not really much of a gum chewer. But since I hadn’t brushed my teeth all day (don’t tell my dentist) and I had some locomotive breath, I was chomping on a piece of gum. And since I am not a real gum chewer, once the flavor is mostly gone, it is time to move that party down the tracks.  So I grab a napkin to spit my gum into it.

Now, some of the interchanges in Charlotte are just whacky. I like single variable exits. Like my exit heading home from work. Exit 82. That’s it. I don’t have to worry about anything else. Then there are exits that have A and B options. That’s okay. But in Charlotte, there are all these exits that have multiple options. Even my GPS has gotten lost more than once. Then there is one on-ramp that the A option just simply swoops up on the highway. But for the B option, I have to go through a stoplight, then go through another stoplight, and then there is a quick left… but there are multiple left-turn lanes and I am not sure which one I am supposed to be in (the GPS is lost at this point… the wacky interchanges have whacked her out), and the on-ramp is about as long as my driveway. And for the exit by the Bojangles Coliseum, I’m telling you… if you don’t know what is coming there, you are in trouble. It is an abrupt hairpin turn with no warning.

The Queen must have been having a bad hair day when they mapped out the roads in the Queen City.

Anyway, I am about to spit my gum into the napkin and we are merging into some heavy traffic on to I-77. The drivers have totally wasted everyone’s tax money because no one is paying any attention to the speed limit signs. And using a turn signal?… well, it as though people were thinking, “Why would I want anyone to know which direction I am going?”

With all these shenanigans, I realize I need to stay focused on the road. Once we get in the flow of the traffic, then I can spit my gum out.

But my gum was gone.

I am running my tongue all through my mouth… inside my teeth… outside my teeth.  No gum. I am pondering, “Where is it?”  Back in 2019 I had bit down on a sub sandwich in a night drive and had split a tooth (too long a story for this now) and had to have that tooth yanked and so there is a hole in my teeth on the right side. I am running my tongue through there to see if the gum is stuck in the hole. No gum.

I am talking to myself in my head, “Where could it be?  Could I have swallowed it?  Certainly I would know it if I swallowed a piece of gum, right?  I didn’t spit it out… I would know if I spit it out.” All the scenarios are running through my head and like a person who is running through TV channels for the second time as though something has changed in the last 60 seconds, I start going through the whole process again… running my tongue through my mouth, talking to myself, etc.

I then start talking out loud to my wife. In an urgent sort of vice I tell her, “You need to turn on the light. I have lost my gum.”  Now, if we were riding in my car (2010 Toyota Camry with 250,000 miles on it and has lost 6 hubcaps during its lifetime… a sweet ride), it would not have been that urgent. But we were in Brenda’s car and that was newer and I didn’t want some rogue piece of gum getting stuck on the upholstery.

We do not see the gum anywhere. I start out loud running through all the options.

“I couldn’t have swallowed it could I?  I mean, wouldn’t I know it if I have swallowed a piece of gum?  Where could it be? ” My tongue is again running through all the channels in my mouth and I am continuing to verbally go through all the scenarios.

My wife then says to me, “Have you checked the napkin?”

We are still driving in the dark on I-77 and so I am keeping a keen eye on the road. I feel around on the napkin and sure enough, the gum is in there. My wife starts laughing so hard she can hardly breathe. I start laughing so hard I can hardly see (which if you are driver on I-77, that doesn’t seem to be really that relevant).

So… if you just can’t find all the pieces fitting together today, just call my wife. I can’t help you.

 

Jeff Becraft is the Director Emeritus for Youth Corps and has dedicated much of his life to helping shift the vision of people’s lives. Youth Corps is a life-changing leadership development experience that inspires high school students to be leaders in the Midlands and beyond. You can connect with Jeff at [email protected].