The Umbrella

Some people have trouble spelling the word umbrella. I have trouble keeping up with one. Over the years I have lost so many umbrellas that I refused to spend more than $5.00 on one. With inflation factored in I had to raise my maximum price to $10.00 to even purchase a cheap drug store variety. The old saying, you get what you pay for, certainly rings true with a cheap umbrella. They either will not open with ease or once you finally get them open the wind turns them inside out. Closing a cheap umbrella offers you the opportunity to wear all the water you originally displaced with the umbrella.

Once, a long time ago when people would actually loan me their umbrella, I borrow by boss's umbrella to use while going to a dentist appointment in Atlanta during a rain soaked lunch hour. I was sitting in the back seat of the cab fooling around with the umbrella when it suddenly popped open. It was a really big umbrella so the driver noticed right away. He looked in his rear view mirror and calmly asked, "Are you ready to get out lady?"

Just because I won't spend much on an umbrella for myself doesn't mean that I won't spring for a pricey one for some other responsible person. One year at Christmas I gave momma a beautiful black umbrella with a handle made from a silver plated dinner knife. She loved that umbrella. it had snooty written all over it. Next thing you know the umbrella was gone. She looked everywhere for the missing umbrella. Wouldn't you know the boutique shop I purchased it from had sold out and did not plan to reorder. Momma looked everywhere for that umbrella until one day she saw a lady at church with the same umbrella. Momma was convinced that Louisa Whiteman, not her real name, had stolen her umbrella. Considering the potential crime happened at church and momma had gone to that same church with the suspected umbrella thief for over forty years we were offering alternative excuses why Mrs. Whiteman, not he real name, had the same umbrella. Finally, we decided that momma had left her umbrella at the church, remember the long drought,and did not pick it up at the lost and found so they sold it at the church yard sale. Momma would have definitely not seen it there. The next Christmas I gave momma another beautiful umbrella from the same boutique, unfortunately it was not a replica of the "stolen" one. This one was big with a Monet print and a beautiful wooden handle. Something not easily misplaced, say at church.

That same Christmas my daughter surprised me with an expensive Coach umbrella. It was the nicest umbrella I had ever owned. The handle extended rapidly with a light push, in the south we say mash, of a button and the umbrella itself went up quickly and effortlessly. I loved it. I could get in my car without getting drenched while trying to close it unlike one of those massive free umbrellas the bank gives to potential customers. It fit in my purse. It was perfect. I lost it. Have you ever noticed when you leave a cheap umbrella somewhere someone will run out into the street crying, "You left your umbrella!" You can't throw those darn things away. The coach umbrella, I bet Louisa Whiteman, not her real name, stole it. She has a history of such behavior.