Some days, it feels like the world is testing you more than others. It’s like, no matter what you do – something goes wrong.  

It usually starts out small, right in the morning, and you just know it’s going to be one of “those” days. Progressively, the small things turn into bigger things and before you know it, you’re hitting all the red lights when you’re in a rush. And then you spill coffee all over a white shirt before a meeting. And then, of course of course of course, your phone is lost in Las Vegas and you’re stuck on a plane flying back home to LA.

5:30 am

I heard my coworker I was sharing a room with come in from being out all night in the casino with co-workers. Luckily, I fall back to sleep quickly.

But then at 6 am, I say to her from my bed, “Your alarm is going off!” No response.

She is laying on her back fully clothed, dead to the world. Get up. Turn it off. Go back to sleep and 2 hours later, it goes off again. I turn it off and decide it’s time to just get up and start the day

Go down stairs.

Walk through the smoky casino, to a mile-long line for coffee. I hate waiting and I hate lines. Standing from the back, I watch each person ever so slowly order their coffee. Fiddle with their money after the transaction. Slow like a snail, collect their belongings from the counter and head to the creamer station. One by one, we inch forward.

At last, it’s my turn! 

Coffee in hand, I rush back through the casino hearing the ring a ching chings and ding ding dings of the slot machines. 

Back in my room, it’s time to turn on the computer. Get to work. Scour through emails and get ready for the show!

But then, a bind request from a million-dollar account comes in. Pressure is on. Hop on computer while talking to clients. Where are my co-workers? I need help!

I can see the way this day is shaping up and I don’t like where it’s going. This is quickly turning into a no good, very bad day.

Now

I’m in a taxicab on the way to the airport, chatting with my kids. We arrive and I set the phone down to swipe the company credit card. I get out, grab my stuff from the trunk and walk through the double sliding glass doors. As soon as we walk through them, no less than 60 seconds from exiting the cab – I realize. My phone.

It’s in the cab.

Crap. World over. Or at least, so it feels. 

To anyone who’s ever lost a phone, especially lost in Las Vegas, it literally feels like an extension of you is missing. Like an arm. Or a leg.

 I know, sounds dramatic but I think we can all relate to that. Suddenly, I feel hopeless. Powerless. Like I won’t make it through the rest of the day without crying.

I need to find it.

As soon as I realize I have about 15 minutes to try and get the driver, I start panicking. What was the name of the cab company? It was a yellow cab, I know that.

I oddly remembering taking detailed mental notes about the taxi during the ride. I remember it was yellow and it said yellow cab on the side. Imagine that! The driver’s name was flashing across the meter and I try to remember her name. I think it was Paula Rodriguz. She had light brown hair and was wearing neon blue sunglasses.

I could pick her out of a lineup.

But what cab company was it?

I call the number of the cab company I think it is and the woman who answers tries running the credit card through the system to see which cab I was in. She says there is no transaction with that card. I tell her the taxi was yellow and the driver was Paula Rodriguez. The whole time I am walking toward security using my coworkers dying phone – hoping they will say she found it before I go through the metal detectors.

No such luck, they say the driver doesn’t have it.

We get through security and my coworker stops at Coffee Bean. I feel like I have limited time with her dying phone to try and get it back before it’s Lost in Las Vegas forever and I’m on a plane back to LA. So, I log into findmyphone.

I See The Phone.

It is on Spring Mountain Road & Ledell Street. It’s at a shopping center with a Cathay Bank and some Brazilian restaurant. I call back and tell the woman I spoke to that I can see it is en-route back to town from the airport. It’s somewhere I haven’t been. She isn’t lost in Las Vegas. IT HAS TO BE IN THAT CAB.

“Nope sorry, we already asked the driver to pull over and look. It’s not there.”

Nothing I can do.

Once home, I use the 10% life left of my co-worker’s phone to tell my Mom to meet me at Lovi’s in Calabasas to get the kids. Should be about 45 minutes, I say. 

SO MUCH TRAFFIC.

It is LA of course. Regardless, I am happy to be home and just driving with my windows down on familiar streets with with a warm, light Santa Ana wind blowing through my hair.

This makes me feel like everything is going to be alright. It’s a good thing I know where I’m going because the free navigation trial in my car has ended and I don’t think I could use a Thomas Guide now, even if I tried!

She won’t be lost in Las Vegas forever. Oh yea, my phone is a she now.

I arrive at Lovi’s after which I am think was longer than 45 minutes, but I’m not exactly sure how long it was because I zone out while I drive and am in another world listening to Phish radio.

Trey sings to me: Everything’s right, so just hold tight!  

I sing along with the volume on high because there are no kids in the car. I dance in my seat as I drive. Pull into the lot but she isn’t there.

Then I start to worry that I took so long – that maybe she left. Afterall, I am not exactly sure how long it took me to get here. Was it 45 minutes? An Hour? An hour and a half? I don’t know because I can’t check my phone to see exactly what time I called her!

Inside the deli.

I ask the host if I can use the phone and he gives me a funny look.

We really have become so dependent on technology. I noticed in the airport even – no pay phones anymore. No body uses them. If you lose your phone like me and need to call – we actually need to ask random strangers to borrow their phone. Would I trust a stranger to use my phone? It’s kind of like handing someone you don’t know your baby. I’d make them stay right by and the whole time would be waiting to react in case they decide to take off with it.

But then I remember that most people are inherently good. Repeat that to myself and I feel it – I will get my phone back.

I know it. 

Back home, I work on getting the kids, all of their luggage and my bags into the house. They want McDonalds for dinner and I’m too lazy to protest so I head to the drive through.

They don’t have many vegetarian options here and although I’m not vegetarian I try to be. . I usually get the southwest salad with no chickin. I settle on a fried chicken sandwich though because at this point, I’m feeling sorry for myself and am eating my feelings.

After serving my children and stuffing my face with greasy goodness I decide to try more detective work. I need to findmyphone.

So I google it.

I search through company websites and look at pictures of the cars to call the ones that look like the taxi my phone was lost in Las Vegas in. I find a number which I am sure I called before but try it anyway. They say the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again – expecting a different result.

Surely, I have gone insane over this damn phone.

Press 2 for lost and found and leave a message.

Stare at my phone’s location and think. WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?

At this point, I call AT&T to start the claim process on the insurance I have in case my poor dear phone is truly a POWMIA.

No Soldier Left Behind.

I call the cab company and he takse the four digits of my card and says, oh yes, you were in cab #3092. Driver is Paula Rodriguez. She hasn’t come back yet for the day and they can’t call her now and she hasn’t turned anything in.

That’s weird.

When I called earlier, they said she “pulled over, searched the car and nothing was there.”

“Well, sometimes people think they left it somewhere, but it doesn’t turn out to be.”

“Well,” I say, “I know I left it there. I was talking to my kids on it in the car and my friend I was with saw it on the seat next to me when I was paying. I forgot to grab it. I actually noticed right when I walked into the airport.”

“Why didn’t you call earlier?”

“I did call earlier and was told it wasn’t found. I have been on a plane, driving, feeding my kids dinner, searching for the cab company. It was also ringing before and now it’s turned off. I am sure someone has found it.”

At this point, he takes my number and says he will ask the driver.

And at this same point, I feel defeated and sure my phone will end up on the black market of lost cell phones somewhere. 

I’m Sorry Honey.

My husband says annoyingly calm.

Just as I go online to start the claim process of getting a new phone, my husband’s phone rings. It’s a 702-area code. A call from Las Vegas. Could it be?

I answer immediately, “Hello? Hello?” the reception is bad.

“Yes, is this Laura?”

“Yes, it is.”

“The driver came back; she had your phone. Call the lost and found number for all things lost in Las Vegas taxicabs on Monday and we’ll ship it out.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH. THANK YOU.

Throughout this whole time, I kept telling myself – it’s just a phone.

But for some reason, it felt like a great loss. 

Like part of me was missing. And I think a lot of people can relate to this feeling.

And when the man from the cab company called me back to say he had my phone, safe and sound – I could finally, relax. The search and rescue mode was over.

And just like that, all was right in the world again. Everything IS right so just tight.

It was four days,

which equals to 96 hours without my phone. During that time, I started to slowly disconnect. The phantom vibration of a text or call coming through stopped around 36 hours in. By the third day, I didn’t even care to scroll FaceBook from the spare iPhone 6 phone we had in a drawer.

I told my husband proud, “I think I’ll carry out this new way of life even after my phone comes home!”

But then it arrived, in a FedEx package at the office like it was Chrsitmas morning. I tore into it and threw the pieces on the floor like a child breaking in a new toy.

And then I hugged and kissed her tight, like a long lost family member!

She’s home! And I’m back to being tethered to it like a baby in utero, bound to her mother by umbilical cord.

I’ve always had a connection to the other side. From a young age, I started having reoccurring dreams and signs of loved ones after death. In these dreams, family members who had passed away would visit. I remember after my Grandma Marion died, I was about 8 years old – I woke up to the creak of my bedroom door and a gleam of light flooding into my dark room from the hallway.

There she was – my grandma! But hadn’t we just laid her to rest earlier today?

She came toward me and while most young girls would feel scared of seeing a “ghost” I was excited she was here and felt comfort. She sat down on my bed and told me everything was going to be ok. She hugged me tight and I could feel her arms around me.

Some might say this is impossible. But I am of the belief that if you are open to signs of loved ones after death and visitations from those who have passed away – those loved ones will find a way to connect and let you know that everything is right.

Losing A Loved One Unexpectedly

Last year, on Christmas Day, as we were boarding our annual flight to Cabo San Lucas at LAX airport – we got the call. The dreaded call we were expecting to receive but were hoping it wouldn’t come quite yet. It was my husband Scott’s mom. Through a river of tears, she could barely make out the words – your father, he’s gone.

Only 30 days before, did I get a similar call from her – only it was letting me know she just took him to the hospital. “He’s really sick,” she said.

“Like, flu sick or something else sick?

“I don’t know. He’s been throwing up for a week straight and the doctor was concerned.”

Diggng for Info

Scott’s family is the worst with giving information. You have to press, ask questions, ask the same questions over and over again to get a straight answer.

“They were concerned because he is throwing up or is there something else? What is going on Mom?” I said to her. Scott was at work; she didn’t want to bother him and I knew it must be serious if she was calling me now.

Turns out, after some peeling the layers back like an onion through a myriad of questions – we were told they think he has cancer.

Over the next three weeks – they tried chemo but the goal was never to cure him. It was too late for that. It was to prolong his life.

We visited with the kids 2 weeks before he passed away and as the plane doors closed my husband looked distraught – was he really on a plane to Cabo when his dad just died? He was.

My dad was in Cabo waiting for us, and we made arrangements to fly back east from Cabo for the funeral. We chose to leave the kids in Cabo with my dad which was an unpopular decision with his immediate family. But our kids were young and we were just there with them to say goodbye. I didn’t see what good it did to remove them from what they consider the happiest place on earth to a freezing tundra and a funeral. They were 6 and 3 at the time. They didn’t need to be there.

Signs of Loved Ones After Death

That said, it’s been almost a year since he passed away. A lot has happened but most recently, Scott has been asked to step up to a Superintendent position at work. We were sitting around the dinner table, talking about the position and how much he wishes he could tell his dad. How proud he would be.

You see, his dad was a machinist for the New York Times and that is what got Scott into the production industry. Scott always worked for the Times when we lived in NY and when we moved to California in 2008 – he landed job offers from both the Los Angeles Times and Farmer John.

Scott asked me which job to take and I told him, “newspapers are a dying industry, everyone buys bacon.” And he took the job with Farmer John.

He’s been there 10 years now, and although the commute is a B!@#$ – Scott is loyal to the company. Afterall, he’s been carried away by ambulance from the plant on more than 1 occasion due to complications with his MS.

He’s talked about leaving to find something closer to home. But he gets really good medical benefits and they are supportive of his health needs. They also love him, so there’s job security.

They Are Always “With” Us

So, as we are all sitting around the table eating dinner, and Scott is talking about the new position and his dad, the dining room light goes out. We all look at each other and I say, “The lightbulb blew out.”

Scott keeps talking but something or someone makes me get up. I walk over to the light switch which is a round dimmer light. When it’s turned to the right, the light is on. I put my fingers around the switch and can feel it’s turned all the way to the left. To off.

But we were all sitting at the table. I look at Scott and say, “This is your Dad. He’s letting you know – he is here. He knows.

And I have chills as I type this.

Some people get freaked out when this stuff happens. But not me. I feel warm inside knowing that when I go, there will be a way to let my kids know I am watching. They will just need to be open to the signs. Because I am of the believer that if you aren’t open to receiving them, then you never will.

The idea of teaching gender diversity in schools is a sensitive subject, especially when it comes to educating elementary school aged children about it.

My daughter, who is in 1^st grade, will soon have a Gender Diversity lesson once per year in her elementary school – a new program that was recently implemented within the Oak Park Unified School District.

A few weeks before school started, we received an email from the district saying they would be introducing lessons about gender diversity in schools. When I got the email, I must admit, I was surprised and not sure how to feel about it. What exactly did this mean? Would they be teaching my child about being transgender in 1^st grade? Really?

I have always been open to others and supportive of the LGBTQ community, but it felt like she was too young to really understand. However, I am not one to make a big deal about nothing – so I read more of the letter to find out that their goal was to teach love, kindness and acceptance of people’s differences from a young age.

How can anyone be opposed to that?

But some parents are protesting allowing their children to take part in these once per year lessons about gender diversity in schools.

From my understanding, per a meeting with the District Superintendent, these lessons are all age appropriate and do not discuss sexual preference at all. Rather, they focus on teaching kids that not everyone is the same. That some people feel different inside and that is OK.

The gender diversity in schools lessons are all age appropriate and do not specifically define the terms transgender or non-binary. Rather, they introduce feelings and diversity. And I am ok with that. But not all parents are.

So, What Do The Lessons Look Like?

For my daughter in first grade, they plan to read her a book called “Red Crayon,” where the premise is that the red crayon says they don’t feel red. But rather, they feel blue.

In speaking with a few parents at school – those who oppose are really against it out of fear. Fear that these lessons will “confuse” their kids. Will lead them down a path or introduce something to them that they wouldn’t have otherwise known.

Others are afraid that it might introduce more bullying and have the exact opposite effect than what the lessons were implemented for in the first place. Some parents are concerned that by pointing out differences in children, will only help to draw lines in the sand that someone is different. And to look out for them.

Kids will be kids. And in my opinion, I think introducing the idea that you should show love and kindness to others – even if theyare different than you – should be embraced.

But lest, these lessons are not even about that. It’s about gender identity. It’s about teaching children that even though they may know whether they are a boy or girl, because that is what they’ve been told – that it’s ok to not “feel” a certain way and that some girls feel like they were supposed to be a boy, or vice versa. It’s also about teaching kids that some people do not feel like a boy or girl at all. They may feel like a little of both and preferred to be called “them.”

I am also of the belief that you do not CHOSE to be gay, straight, lesbian, bisexual or trans. You just are.

There is a spectrum of LGBQT that I think we all fall into on some level.  I know some women, married with kids who see another woman and can appreciate their beauty. Some call it a “woman crush.” There are men, who when they get along with other men well call it a “bro-mance.” It doesn’t mean these people are gay, but I think it’s important we teach kids that not everyone is the same and to not make fun of or exclude people because they are different than us.

Can’t We All Just Get Along?

The fact is, kids will have to one day grow up and be leaders in a world where transgender people will work alongside of them. Isn’t it better to introduce these types of differences in a non-pressure type of way? In a way that makes sense to kids.

Not all parents are ok with this though, and some participated in the protests by keeping their children home for two days earlier this month. Their purpose was to show the district they do not want these lessons about gender diversity in schools.

Every morning, I hang out by the 1^st grade playground gate because my daughter likes for me to wait until the bell rings. I am not one of those parents that loves chatting with others at school – but it comes with the territory. If it were up to me, I’d drive the through loop, say goodbye and be on my way!

While I was hanging by the chainlink fence, giving my daughter her final kiss good bye, another Mom sparked conversation with me about the lessons to be implemented about gender diversity in schools.

She was strongly opposed to it. Her reason was that she didn’t think her daughter would understand what it meant. That she would be confused about whether she was a boy or a girl. Granted, her daughter has special needs and she felt it was not appropriate for her level of understanding. However, she is not the only parent that feels this way and the others do not have special needs children.

As a result, I tell her I understand her position but that if she thinks her daughter wouldn’t understand, because of her mental disability – then why remove her from being introduced to it. At worst, she would just wonder why the red crayon had feelings in the first place.

Teach Them Love and Kindness

I dread when we are in public and we do see someone that is disabled, different or “weird” – as my kids put it. And it’s even worse when they say something out loud that may be offensive to that person.

As a parent, I don’t want my kids thinking it’s ok to make fun of others because they are different than us and I think that’s a pretty universal feeling amongst most parents.

So, the fact that these same parents are protesting lessons that teach inclusivity and tolerance is baffling to me. They are afraid of the unknown and I would think by now, in the year 2019 – we’d be past that. These are the same parents that say they would support their kids if they ‘One day decide they are gay, you know – when they are older.” But yet, they are opposed to opening a world to their kids where these people exist.

Seems a bit contradictory to me.

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   What “new” band have you recently discovered and why should we listen to them?