Cameron has misplaced his cell phone and he looked pretty darn thoroughly. He didn’t find it. So we started a search together that included his lifting heavy furniture and me using the super sucking wet/dry vac to a)maybe latch onto the phone and b) to grab some dirt. We started on the porch and worked our way through the living room and into the den and then into the kitchen and ran out of steam in the dining room.

So much sucking; so much dirt; so much taking things apart and putting them back together. And no phone.

I don’t think Cameron has the talent for going into his memory and floating into that last moment with the phone in his hand, so we are going at it without vibes.

Maybe I will lie quietly tonight and and chant “Be the phone . . .”

This is up by Bluffton and the river isn’t very wide at all; in fact, it is a small fraction of the eastern floodplain  down by Covington in Fountain County  where my dad is from. Well, he’s from Kingman, but it’s close. Or, maybe it is not – close that is. Given the times I have headed out to Covington from Kingman on the little roads that meander around in that old territory, it could be oh, way far away.

Long ago they built the Wabash & Erie Canal and over in Delphos, Ohio, you can see one of the locks. I am humbled by the thought of all the people slowly making their way west. And that is something, since I have one of those egos that is an “I” carved out of granite. Come to think of it, it’s more of a “ME”.