Miguel, there’s no place to hide. I will find you, and I will make you pay. It’s been nearly 60 years, and I have not forgotten, not for a single day.
The year was 1956, and Dwight Eisenhower was running for president. Being a prominent Republican Committee man, my father was involved at the grassroots level in the Eisenhower reelection process. As part of their support, one night Mom and Dad attended a local fundraiser. And they brought home a small plastic statue of Ike, as Eisenhower was called.
I was in kindergarten at the local one room elementary school, and I gleefully brought my little Ike doll to school. After midmorning snack, a group of us went to the sand box. I joyously plowed Ike through the sand for a period of time, then foolishly let Miguel borrow him.
Miguel plowed Ike through the sand, then, somehow, I became distracted. When I returned my attention to the sandbox, Ike was gone.
I asked Miguel where Ike was, and he shrugged his shoulders. Ike was kidnapped, and we had no secret service agents to find a miniature president.
It was obvious that Miguel had stolen him. I went to Miss Erikson and reported the theft. She told me what teachers back then always said, don’t be a tattle tale (translation- I am too lazy to solve this problem).
Not having a search warrant, I had few choices to make that would give me a chance of making a recovery.
My little 5 year old body trembled with fury. Miguel, who already had a significant kindergarten rap sheet, added to his list of transgressions.
So we move ahead to 2014. F**king Miguel still probably has Ike stashed in his arthritic hip pocket, at whatever prison he lives in.
Miguel, you are on notice. I know you still have Ike and I want him back. I know you will read this post (if you can read).
Just drop him in the mail and all is forgiven-well, that is a lie but I will attempt to curb my smoldering rage.
Ike, I’m here for you buddy, don’t ever give up hope.