As a child growing up, my parents were pretty clear about teaching me right from wrong.
I think I recall my Mother saying I probably thought my name was “Johnny No!” while I was growing up.
Corporal punishment was in vogue back in the 50’s and my little, puffy, red hands showed testament to being slapped when they got into things they shouldn’t have.
I also learned that when I screwed up, I was expected to face the music and accept blame.
I learned pretty early that to avoid the grief of having to apologize, it was best to avoid situations where apologies were necessary.
However, I’ve noted lately that apologies are not the norm.
Today, when someone’.s caught with their hand “in the cookie jar”, the first response is to extract the hand and point a finger at somebody else.
Hey! I’m an old guy but that’s the way things are today.
So, to prove I’m not stuck in my ways, I had the following experience.
I drove to one of my favorite home improvement stores recently and when I exited my truck, I locked the keys inside.
My wife was inaccessible, my grandson was tied up and the other “immediate adults” were busy at work.
So, I was faced with what do I do until my wife would see my message and come rescue me.
Fortunately, I was at a home improvement store where I could leisurely walk the aisles after buying what I actually needed.
After about an hour, though, I suspected the sales staff figured I was a master shoplifter so I paid for my purchases and exited the store to wait.
That’s when my mind went to “warp drive” and I thought who should I blame for my predicament.
It obviously wasn’t my fault that I locked my keys in my truck.
So who should I blame?
The first name that came to kind was Harvey Weinstein. I’m sure he wouldn’t be burdened any further from my key episode.
Nah, it’s gotta be “global warming”.
The bright late-March sunshine caused me to squint and forget about my keys. (Never mind that the next day we had 5 inches of snow and sleet!)
Maybe I should blame North Korea’s Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un.
His incessant saber-rattling caused me to lose focus on day-to-day things, like, “Where are my keys?”
I place full blame on Stormy Daniels (the 21st Century’s Monica Lewinsky) unless she doesn’t agree to talk about it.
Nope, my problem lies squarely with the Equifax folks. That huge security breech that they reluctantly admitted to, had my mind awash with everyone other than me having my identity so how could I be expected to think about truck keys.
It’s all the hoopla over the book, “Marlon Bundo’s Day in the Life of the Vice-President” which got so much news coverage that I figured I ought to care, and where I put my truck keys just slipped my mind.
Upon further consideration, I gotta lay the blame directly on NAFTA because heading into my one of my favorite home improvement centers, I would be faced with the harsh economic realities of that agreement.
No, I think the real blame has to be Harvey Weinstein.
But, then again, I’m not even a gymnast and I could point my finger at Dr. Larry Nassar. I never did gymnastics but I once tripped over a gym mat at Wooster Heights Elementary school.
No, my key problem actually falls directly into the lap of the EPA. I was so concerned about about that polar bear on a melting ice floe that remembering to take my keys before leaving my truck faded from memory.
Actually, the real blame for “Key-Gate” is Yoko Ono. Not only did she break up the Beatles, her less-than-melodious singing caused me to lose focus on the task at hand.
I thought about Flip Wilson’s character Geraldine Jones who always announced “the devil made me do it!” That could offer me a convenient scapegoat.
Actually, large stores with multiple doors with only one unlocked and just as many open cash registers distract me so that you can see why remembering where my keys were faded from my mind.
Geez, how do you expect a lifelong Cleveland Indians fan to remember where he put his keys when Chief Wahoo has been victimized?
Did Harvey Weinstein have something to do with?
The threat of another government shutdown caused me great consternation, especially when some wags will announce “all non-essential government employees” have been told to stay home. (Why are we paying for non-essential workers?)
I could always blame Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus or Cowboy’s owner Jerry Jones. They probably wouldn’t even notice me using them as the reason I forgot my keys.
Could I point the finger at Ho Chi Mihn, the talk of tariffs, DACA, Facebook, the border wall, Shrek, the Bay of Pigs invasion, the tax cut or the KGB?
The bottom line was, when my son-in-law finally game to take me home to get my extra set of keys, I really didn’t feel I needed to blame anyone.
I got to window shop at a place I like to visit and I also enjoyed a Snicker’s bar on the bench waiting for my ride.
So, I’m not going to blame anybody for my key issue.
Except maybe Harvey Weinstein.