J: Counting cards in Vegas can get a gambler into a lot of trouble. Here on the Parkway, the problem isn't counting cards, but counting clubs. Our dad has a remarkable capacity for recognizing when his bag (which the faithful reader will remember is positioned right next to his side of the bed) is missing a club. He routinely counts the clubs and can identify which club is missing with unerring accuracy.
Today he marched across the street to inform me, in his own unique language, that a club was missing. I dutifully followed him back to his room where I watched as he counted the clubs. When he finished he turned to me with an accusing look and asked what had happened to the club. As I haven't been on the links with him in a couple of weeks, I couldn't answer. I agreed to jump on the case immediately.
I returned home and asked my husband if he knew of any recent thefts in the neighborhood. He said he didn't, but he was aware that my dad had GIFTED a club to one of our sons. According to the gift recipient, grandpa insisted that he take his "lucky club" and wouldn't relent until it was deposited into his bag. While he appreciated the gift, the club is for right handers, and he is a lefty. But it's the thought that counts.
Another Crime Stopper's episode draws to a successful conclusion.