Lost Socks

In the laundromat of life.

One of my favorite expressions is referring to someone as “a lost sock in the laundromat of life.”

It says it all without hardly saying a thing. Everyone can relate to it, except for those rare individuals who have never washed their own clothes or, out of necessity, needed to use a laundromat.

Some people are clearly ‘lost socks’. You can spot them from a mile away. Some of us are good at hiding it. I’d hazard a guess that most of us have felt like a ‘lost sock’ at some stage of our life.

I’ve always had a penchant for opening my heart to those who don’t fit in. Those who are out of the ordinary. Those on the fringes.

My dad had this open-heartedness with strangers. My mother had this open-heartedness with people connected to her family.

My dad would let a homeless guy he just met at his soup kitchen take his Thunderbird on a joy ride. My mom would open our home to any and all as if it had been designated the community recreation center. And never make a fuss about the commotion that ensued.

No one ever sat me down and lectured me about having an open heart. All I had to do was observe. It should not have been a surprise when my parents agreed to foster children. It kept the household full of life. Dogs, dates, cats, drama, card games and lots of laughter.

Lots of comings and goings.

My high school stint was. . . unorthodox. Star football player at the outset, recreation football player at the end. Journalism wonk in the beginning where I tried to walk a line between the heralded athletes and everybody else. I started high school determined to be an iconoclast and I ended high school just as determined to “leave it all on the field” - master of ceremonies at the talent show, a role in a James Thurber production and popular-voted Most Handsome which found me getting my photo taken with a camel at a petting zoo for the stunning contrast, and for the yearbook.

Me, the camel and some random child.

In the Senior Class photo I am surrounded by ‘lost socks’, because, every now and then, despite my notoriety for telling the varsity football coach to stick it where the sun never shines and the indisputable fact I was dating one of the most popular and beloved girls in the school, I felt like a ‘lost sock’.

My affinity toward the unorthodox, I feel, has been beneficial in my business. Especially when it comes to hiring staff.

I don’t seek unorthodox, but I don’t shrink from the unorthodox.

What matters to me is what is in someone’s heart. If I believe their heart is in the right place, I will provide all kinds of space for them to find a place in the community.

It doesn’t always work out. There have been some spectacular busts. But there have also been some incandescent successes and, as a whole, I feel allowing those lost socks to find a home in the laundromat has been a good thing.

A while back, a young woman met me at my property where our warehouse is located and where our guides are quartered for the season. She was looking for work as a river guide and had caught flak from a couple of companies she’d auditioned for because of her prominent nose ring, and less prominent points of view. She asked if I was okay with her appearance.

At that very moment, one of our veteran guides walked past sporting what I considered a “garish” mohawk but what I also thought made him appear to be a sullen tween. I told her that I was more concerned about his hairstyle choice than her nose ring. I didn’t know it at the time but she was a small engine mechanic who worked in Antarctica during the winter.

But I didn’t need to know that to hire her. I liked that she seemed like she might be another ‘lost sock’.

And that was enough.

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Arlen Parsa’s recent column is a good one. So I wanted to call it to your attention. It’s brief. The title is A Story About Hope and Cocaine.

Also, AAR John Hayden sent me this video that I just HAD to share because I know a handful of you are familiar with ALL of these guys. I have been on this Green Lake football run with Willie Weigand, Bill Snyder, John Hayden and others and - let me tell you - it takes far more stamina than you might imagine. It’s also the best way to make your way around Green Lake. Enjoy!

Sorry. Got a late start today. Contemplated staying in bed just for variety’s sake. - JLM