By Steve Fernlund
We all know the phrase “Finders keepers, losers weepers.” It is commonly used in children’s speech as a declaration of possession. As adults, it describes a situation where one person benefits greatly from another’s misfortune, mistake, or oversight.
Growing up, my best buddy was Rand Jensen, who lived one street over from our house on 17th Avenue. We were inseparable, playing ball and riding bikes, and walking to school. Our parents were also good friends, and our families often took lake vacations together.
One thing Rand had that I never quite matched was his ability to find coins and currency that were just lying on the ground. It didn’t matter where we were, he’d see money that people lost ten times more often than I did. He personified “Finder Keepers.” It was always a surprise to see his luck in action.
In a decade of living near the end of the road in the woods of rural Cook County, we had no trick-or treaters at Halloween. No knocking on the door to set the dogs barking. No cars on our road to do the same. So we faced Halloween here in the urban climate-change refuge of Duluth with some trepidation.
Community management reminded us that we could leave the porch light off to let the little costume wearers know that we had no treats or tricks. Leaving the light off, we were surprised to find that our wishes were respected. Despite kids of all ages moving about, not one came to our porch. This incident restored my faith in humanity’s respect for civic rules of conduct.
The dogs, however, still needed an evening walk, which typically occurs around 7 pm. The streets were still filled with crowds of excited kids and their chaperones. It had rained in the afternoon, and the roads were still wet.
When Fiona and I crossed the darkened street to our home, I saw out of the corner of my eye what looked like a piece of our beloved currency lying in a puddle. I bent down to shine my headlamp on a partially water-soaked bill with a picture of Benjamin Franklin on it. Feeling like I’d finally matched the finders-keepers luck that Rand had in spades, I quickly picked it up and stuffed it in my pocket.
Once inside, I dropped it on the table behind my desk to dry and waited for the Bohunk to return from walking Gypsy. I was excited to report my good “finders” fortune. It would cover two visits to Sammy’s pizza buffet.
The Bohunk put the brakes on my enthusiasm, reporting that when she was out with Gypsy she had seen a man dressed as a hippy walking down the middle of our street, swinging a flashlight back and forth with his head down. She asked him if he was looking for something, and he simply mumbled, “Yes.” We were sure that he was the loser weeper of the Benjamin sitting in my office.
I’ve lost or mislaid things of value, monetary and otherwise, many times. So I hurried out to see if I could find the weeping hippy. No luck. The Bohunk suggested we report the find on Monday to the management office and get to bed. Married to me for more than 50 years, she may have known I’d keep thinking about it. My desire to get a couple of pizza buffets out of my finder’s luck was soon overwhelmed by a surge of empathy for the poor guy searching the streets for his lost treasure.
So, first thing Saturday morning, I wrote and sent a message to property management that went like this:
“Someone lost something of value in the rush on An…. street last night. I picked it up around 7:15. Could you post this and ask the owner to message me? I’ll know it is the rightful owner when they tell me what it is. Then we can get the lost back to the found.”
Not long after I hit send, the Bohunk showed up in my office with a full cat food bowl, which resides on the table behind my chair. She picked up my find from the night before and said, “I think you should look closer at this.”
What I was convinced was a Benjamin was, in fact, a fake. It included a statement that “THIS IS ILLEGAL TENDER,” and the Grim Reaper signed it. Issued by the United States of Halloween.
I hopped back on the community Facebook page and sent this message: “Never mind. Turns out it was a prank on me. A phony $100 bill issued by the United States of Halloween. Good laugh this morning.”
Found money is excellent and rare. Funny money is just funny.
