A bunch of us were gabbing about all sorts of things at Marko’s yesterday evening when the subject of unusual theft came up. Many of us reported our own experiences, and then Dino Benčić told us how his mother’s knapsack got stolen from her back when his parents were in Spain last year. After a few smooth cuts, it simply disappeared. There was some money in it, but his parents’ passports were in it, too. In her fifties, Dino’s mother is perfectly fit, which means that this sort of thing could happen to anyone. Not surprisingly, I took the story, as it were, personally. Having been living with a knapsack for about twenty years now, I consider it an essential part of my gear. In fact, I cannot imagine living without it. Having it stolen from my back thus strikes me as outright shocking. Which is why I woke up this morning with Dino’s story on my mind. As soon as I could, I got up to check where my precious knapsack was. To my joy, it was in its usual place. Phew!

Addendum I (May 6, 2014)

Yesterday morning I tried to remind Dino about his story, but he remembered none of it. He just shook his head and frowned in utter disbelief as I went on and on. As it turned out, it must have been Vanja, his elder brother, who was sitting with us a couple of evenings ago. I got them completely confused even though Vanja is considerably older than Dino. All they share are the key facial features. Besides, Dino told me that he could not remember their parents ever going to Spain together. Perhaps it was Italy, he suggested. But all he could remember with any certainty was that his father was once robbed in Moscow or someplace else in Russia. To wit, I must have confused two or more different stories that were told at Marko’s. And so I ended up totally bewildered by what I had learned from Dino yesterday morning. The best I can say in my defense is that the special place for my knapsack in my heart is still incontestable in my rendering of the story about unusual theft. Phew!

Addendum II (May 13, 2014)

The plot keeps thickening. Once again, a bunch of us were gabbing about all sorts of things at Marko’s yesterday evening. Dino Benčić was there, and so was his father, Marijan. I returned to the story of the stolen knapsack, and told everyone around several tables how I confused Dino and his brother, Vanja, who was not with us yesterday evening. Both of them look quite a bit like their father. At this point Lucia Benčić, their first cousin, chimed in: “It was I who told that story some time ago!” I was flabbergasted. Although I remembered that she was with us back then, I could not connect her to the story. Besides, she does not resemble Marijan at all. “It was not my mother, either,” she continued. “A friend of hers had her knapsack stolen while they were together in Spain.” Predictably, there was much laughter. Alzheimer was also mentioned several times, and I joined the merriment without much ado. One more time, the special place that my knapsack has in my heart is the only part of the story that remains incontestable. Phew!