When I was growing up on the farm, we hardly ever locked our front door, except at bedtime. Other times, Mom attached a long string to the kitchen door key. If we’d leave for the day, the key was slung into the crook of the tree, in front of the house. The string was quite visible, yet, we were never robbed. But that was the 1940s and 1950s.
My key problems started in my 40s. We lived in Easton where my husband taught school. Many times I walked to school, showing up at his classroom door, for the spare key to my car. The students never said a word when I appeared, but I knew by their big grins, they knew, once again, I had locked the keys in my car!
Next, I graduated to loosing house keys. My grandson, Jason, was visiting. We just got home, from a walk to the carnival, when I realized I didn’t have my house key. ‘Don’t worry.’ I told Jason. ‘We’ll walk to the police/fire station nearby. They’ll be able to help us.’
We then walked to the station. I explained ‘explicitly’ to the girl at the desk, ‘All I’ll need is a small pick-up truck with a ladder thrown in the back. I know my bathroom window is unlocked.’ She then told me to go home and wait.
On the walk back, I told Jason, ‘We’re not going to mention this to Pop Pop. I’ve had entirely too many problems with keys!’ Turning down my street, a neighbor lady ran outside, ‘Carole, I just heard on my scanner someone on my street got locked out. Was it you?’
I said ‘yes’ but hoped she could keep her mouth shut if she sees my husband.
It wasn’t more than thirty minutes when I saw, two blocks up the street, a small red truck. As it came closer, it became bigger and bigger. It was the largest red fire truck I had ever seen! The fire man soon had his ladder propped against the house, climbed in the window, and smiled as he came out the back door, keys in hand. I apologized profusely then he left.
I still thought, Maybe Harry won’t find out’ when a police car parked at the side of my house. As the policeman approached me he asked, ‘Are you the lady who got locked out?’
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘but it’s all resolved. The fireman was here and rescued me.’
‘I still have to write the incident up,’ he said. ‘What is your name?’ I told him. ‘What is your husband’s name?’ I told him. He smiled and asked, ‘Is he a school teacher?’
‘Yes.’ I said.’He was my teacher!’ We chatted a bit then he left. I told Jason, ‘Now I’m going to have to tell Pop Pop. Not only does the neighbor know, but all the firemen and policemen know that I got locked out of my house!’
I have two more house key stories. Almost every year, my husband volunteered at Bethlehem’s Musikfest. The first Friday he worked, we decided I’d take a bus over in the evening and meet him for our Friday night date.
Before leaving for the bus ride, I checked my purse. I decided I wouldn’t need extra money (my date would be treating), nor would I need the keys to the car or the house.
Since I’m not familiar with reading bus schedules, I missed the bus. I still was determined to have my date. Once home, I knew I couldn’t get in the house as the key was inside, so I called a taxi from my neighbors house.
I’m also not familiar with taxi prices. Upon reaching my destination, the taxi driver said, ‘That will be $20.’ I only had $10 cash on me. I could only offer him a check. He accepted. I found my date and we had a fun evening, with or without my house or car keys.
After this incident, my husband and I decided we’d get a third house key and ‘plant’ it outside. Excellent idea on our part! I had a key made, placed it on the kitchen table and told my husband, ‘I’ll place the key in tinfoil, put it in a small plastic dish. I’ll dig a hole under the fireplace outside since we don’t use it anyway.’ Months later the key was still on the kitchen table. I decided this was the day I was going to ‘plant’ it. On the way to the fireplace, I thought, If it snows the fireplace is too far to walk in the yard. I’ll plant it under the deck instead.
Months passed until my husband locked himself out of the house. He then headed for the fireplace with a shovel and dug and dug and dug. (I had forgotten to tell him I ‘planted’ it elsewhere.) He rested a short while and went back to the fireplace again and dug and dug. Finally, he gave up on digging, and decided to break the cellar window in the garage and shimmy his body inside the house. All went well and he got to his golf tournament on time.
Once I was home, he asked me where the blasted key was. I confessed I forgot. A few months later, sitting at the kitchen table, looking out the window at my beautiful deck, I screamed, ‘I know where the key is!’ We both ran outside, got a spade, and dug up the very safe and sound house key!
We’re in our 70s now, but it’s still happening. We stopped for gas. He had asked if I wanted coffee and I said no. As was his habit, he laid the car key on my seat. Soon, I decided I wanted coffee, locked the doors, and ran after him. Upon our return to the pump, we realized both the key and the Triple AAA card were visible and locked inside. We then called his brother who came and took my husband home for his car and my key. We accepted equal blame for that one.
I also do things out of habit. When I go to the Y for exercise class, I carry my license and Y cards in a small pouch, which I hang around my neck. Just last week, getting out of the car and locking it, I decided it’s too cold to open my jacket and place the car keys in the pouch. After class, I couldn’t find my keys. I then stopped at the desk and asked if anyone returned keys. She held up three sets. I claimed mine for my very own and headed home.
In looking back on stories from my family, I believe ‘lost keys’ are inherited.
My niece, Bev and husband, kept their house key in a magnetic box inside their gas grill. A year later they decided to get a new grille. The old grill was set out front during clean-up week. They figured someone would pick it up before the trash collector. Someone did. Then they remembered the house key was attached to the grille. They decided it was best to change the door locks on the house no matter what the cost!
My granddaughter, Karissa’s incident happened in her senior year. After her cross country practice, she found her key locked in the ignition. She then called her older sister, who brought the spare. She unlocked the door with the spare, sat in the car, and then remembered she forgot something. She quickly locked the doors from inside, jumped out of the car while locking both keys inside! Her father was called who managed to unlock the button through the window.
The last story involved my five sisters and myself. We decided to rent a van and travel from Pennsylvania to New Hampshire one summer to visit Dorothy’s son. Everything went great until the drive home. We stopped at an indoor flea market. After checking out all the vendors, we headed out when Dorothy (the driver) announced, ‘I can’t find the key!’ We did our best to back track but found no key. Soon someone was smart enough to say, ‘Maybe they’re in the ignition!’ While heading for the van, we conversed about our fate: If the keys are missing how does a rental place get them to you? If they send them via mail, it will take 3 days to get here. Where will we stay? This town looks too small to have a motel. We might have to drive an hour to get to one. We can’t drive, we have no car. We’ll call a policeman to get us there. Finally we reach the van and found our worries were over. The key was in the ignition. We then went back to the office to use a phone (no cell phones at this time). A locksmith arrived within thirty minutes for a job that took one minute! We split the bill six ways.
And just when I thought my ‘loosing keys’ days were over, it happened one more time! It was during the winter and the morning weatherman stated, ‘This is the coldest day on record in the Lehigh Valley.’
It all started when I left for my class at Cedar Crest College. I always walk. My husband was going away too, but with the car. We planned to both be home by 1 p.m., or so I thought. I was home by 1 p.m., but realized I forgot to take my keys. So, I sat on the rocker on our front porch and waited and waited for my husband’s return. At some point, I knew we had misunderstood each other on the time. We do have a key hidden in the tool shed (Don’t anyone worry. I’ve moved it from there now that I’ve told you all). I realized I couldn’t get to the shed as the snow blocked the door. So I sat and I sat and rocked and rocked some more. After and hour of rocking, I said to myself, maybe I can take a shovel from the front porch and shovel the snow away at the shed. I walked to the back of the yard and saw my husband had shoveled in front of the doors. I then got the hidden key and let myself in the house. My husband arrived soon after me. Once in the house, it took me all day to get warm! But, I learned a lesson—always check things out before ‘rocking your life away!’
I don’t want any of my readers to call me for advise how ‘not to’ loose keys. Things happen. Call a locksmith.
Carole Christman Koch grew up in Berks County and has been published in numerous publications. She has a passion for writing and has many stories from growing up on a farm to raising children to humorous stories about her and her husband to everyday stories to season stories and more.
