It was Father’s Day weekend. I remember all of the details by what was going on at work. We had been married for two years and for her and me and the children, we were all still working through the challenges of a blended family. That is why this present had so much personal meaning to me.

Billy, Jackie and Matt had given me a golf shirt for Father’s Day. It meant a lot to me coming from them. It was a white shirt with some red and blue stripe or pattern to it. That was Sunday. The following day I was playing at a corporate golf outing at the nearby Fiddlers Elbow Golf Club. I was in a great mood. Beautiful weather, no work, golf! And I was wearing my brand new golf shirt.

I remember nothing about the golf that day except that it was a spectacular day. What came next was a bit annoying. In the locker room as scores of men were walking around in various stages of undress, toweled or butt naked, I ran into some colleagues and our conversation quickly shifted from golf to a continuation of a simmering work problem from the previous day. And I did not like the decisions that had been made in another golf cart during the round! Well this ruined what up to now had been a perfectly fine day. My mind was simmering. We showered, dressed and sat down for a long obligatory dinner. I arrived home late and as I was emptying my gym bag, I discovered that my newly acquired and beloved golf shirt was missing! I looked in my bag and car a half dozen times. Noooooo! I was devastated. In the midst of my locker room distraction, I left the shirt behind. I awakened Cyndee and explained it to her. She suggested going back to the club early the next day to see if anyone had found it.

So I get to the club bright and early and explain my predicament to the locker room attendant. He shows me his lost and found pile and my shirt is not there. He says to me, “The only thing I can suggest to you is to go through the towels and see if it got swept up in them.” OK, I am excited. Maybe I will find it. But...but then he takes me around the corner and points in the corner. What do I see? I see hundreds and hundreds of wet dirty towels sitting in a mountain about to be picked up by laundry. I did not know whether to be happy or sad. (Side story- my family knows and they find it a source of kidding and jabbing me because...true confession...I don’t like to get my hands dirty. Don’t like dirty, gooey, sticky and definitely not wet moldy towels. But this was a BIG deal and the clock was ticking.) File it under- The Things You Do For Love! So I roll up my sleeves (dress shirt, suit and tie in those days) and start picking through one wet towel after another until I have moved the entire mountain from one side of room to the other and NO SHIRT! I am crestfallen and defeated. I am sad. I call home and give Cyndee the update.

I head out to work and have a full day and then drive home. I met Cyndee at the door and kissed her hello and then proceeded upstairs to change before dinner. I had been sad and angry about the lost golf shirt all day. When what to my wonderment do I see? Yes, an exact replacement of the lost shirt lying on the bed. She had made it a point to go to the mall and see if she could find it. She did. I was so happy on multiple fronts but mainly feeling surrounded by the love of my children and the love of my wife. The lost golf shirt is in my family love highlights film. Oh, what a blessed man I am!