The Earring

Book 4 Part 10

"Hi, I am David Lander from Louisiana College," he said.

The audience immediately dissolved into laughter. Some were laughing so hard, they had to be picked up out of the aisles, while others broke out their hankies. The levity broke the tension and triggered my memory. When the laughter died down, I was able to complete my testimony.

The receptionist was at the service. Even after a couple of years, she remembered the name Sydney, not because I had a riveting testimony, but because I blundered, and David saved the day.

I would like to think that I will be remembered as a columnist because of the spiritual applications of my stories, but the public response tells me otherwise. People who stop me to comment invariably remember me as the woman who scrapes her toast every morning or the lady who tries on secondhand clothes in airport bathrooms.

So as you go through life, know that you will be remembered, but you have little control over the selective memories of others. Try to put a bit of levity into the lives of those with whom you come into contact, they may just remember you for it. [As I bid you, my readers, adieu, I hope that we shared a laugh and that the levity I brought helped lessen life's bumpy landings.]

#

I inserted brackets around the final sentence for a reason. This farewell column was longer than my normal space, but the magazine decided to print the complete thing rather than editing it, as was their custom. Since the column did not fit in the allotted space, they jumped it to a back page. At the bottom of my usual page, the column ended with "mute plea for help. See Bumpy Landings pg. 32."

The problem was that the editor forgot to include the remainder of the column on page 32. The day the magazine was delivered, the phones began to ring. Readers wanted to know where the rest of my column could be found. Apologies were issued, and a promise was made that the entire column would be reprinted in the next issue. One irate woman insisted that she could not wait a month to read the end of the column.

"You can't just leave me hanging," the woman said. "She's standing on stage and can't remember her lines. What does David do?"

"Well, ma'am, I don't know. We'll both have to wait until next month to find out."

"That's unacceptable. I want to talk to the editor. What's his name? George something."

"That would be George Lapmann."

"Yes. That's him. I want to speak to him."

The woman was passed off to a staff writer. She refused to be appeased. Eventually she talked to Lapmann. To placate her, he pulled the column up on his computer screen and read the end of the column to the woman.

"What does she mean, bid her readers adieu?"

"Well, ma'am," Lapmann said. "This is her last column for our magazine."

"Will she still be writing for other publications?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "I only make the decisions for our magazine."

"So, you're dropping Life's Bumpy Landings?"

"Yes, ma'am. We've decided to go in another direction."

"That's too bad. She's the best thing you have going. I'll be looking for a magazine that continues her column. Good day, sir."

The editor put down the phone. He buzzed the receptionist. A harried voice identified the publication and asked him to hold. After he drummed his fingers for 30 seconds, a breathless voice said, "How can I help you?"