A funny thing happened today and somewhere in Springfield, there may be an octogenarian writing about it too. If only he knew the rest of the story.

I went to Wal-Mart. My usual greeter was working. I picked up a few items: deodorant, mouthwash, toothpaste, dryer sheets, and ice cream. Lots of ice cream.

I went to the express lane and began to unload my cart. My usual check-out lady was working. I wonder if my greeter or check-out lady are in fact robots because they are always working, no matter what day or time I go to Wal-Mart.

As I was unloading my cart, an elderly man got in line behind me. He said, “Are you sure you don’t have 21 items?”

I looked at him. I looked at my cart. I stuttered, “Um, I don’t really know. I didn’t count them. I’m pretty sure there couldn’t be that many…”

He burst out laughing. “I was just funning with you.”

I noticed he only had one item, a ream of printer paper, and I suggested that he go on ahead of me since he only had one item. He said it didn’t matter because he had to wait for his wife anyway. He went on to explain that he liked to pay for his paper on a separate order because he could deduct it on his taxes. Then he further explained that he could deduct the paper because he writes for money. He’s been writing for a living for 63 years. He told me about the magazines he’s written for that have ceased operations and the magazine he’s writing for now. He told me about the first story he ever had published. He told me about stories he’s written about people that later became famous. He talked and talked. We were holding up the express line.

I finally paid and told him it had been nice talking to him and hurried to my car with my ice cream.

As I drove home it occurred to me that I was fated somehow to meet this man whose name I had not even gotten. I regretted not getting his name. I hurried on home, left the car running in the driveway, handed my husband the ice cream and said, “I’ve got to hurry back to Wal-Mart. I have to catch an 80 year old man.”

I sped away leaving my bewildered husband on the front porch holding a bag of ice cream. As I hurried back to Wal-Mart I tried to figure out what I was going to say. I thought there was a pretty good chance the man would still be sitting there on a bench waiting patiently for his wife talking someone else’s ear off. I parked the car and ran back in. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t on the bench by the door. He wasn’t in the parking lot.

I called home and said, “I can’t find the old coot.”

My husband asked, “Why are you chasing some old man around Wal-Mart?”

I still think there is a reason I ran into that man today. There must be something I’m supposed to learn from him. I’m going to find him tomorrow. I know what magazine he writes for and they can’t have very many octogenarians in navy blue suits with retired Navy pins on their jackets working for them.

Won’t he be surprised when the crazy lady with the ice cream from Wal-Mart tracks him down and says, “You know, I forgot to mention that I want to write too when you were telling me about your writing. So here I am. You seem like a friendly sort…”