Andy Young: Solving a cold case reveals a new mystery

By Andy Young

Last summer my oldest child and I traveled up to Newfoundland, where we camped and hiked in Gros Morne National Park; trekked up to L’Anse aux Meadows, a UNESCO World Heritage Site where Vikings established a settlement more than a millennium ago; and explored the town of Gander, which houses the airport where most of North America’s airplanes were grounded in the days following the tragic events of Sept. 11, 2001.

Our expedition was unforgettable for all the right reasons, save for one thing: the puzzling disappearance of a recently acquired family heirloom, the Yachats, Oregon (population 1,010) cloth tote I had purchased as a souvenir of a one-day visit to the picturesque Pacific Coast village a few summers ago.

I had taken it to Newfoundland not only for use as a handy, environmentally responsible shopping bag, but also so I could take a photo of it and myself overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and send it to the friend who, in addition to being the primary reason for a memorable luncheon in Yachats, is one of the town’s 1,010 most prominent citizens. My son snapped the desired picture on a clear, sunny morning on a cliff at Cape Spear, North America’s easternmost point. Mission Accomplished!

But then, tragedy struck. When I dropped my son and his gear off in Orono at the tail end of our journey, there was no trace of the Yachats bag anywhere. We tore through his belongings and mine but came up empty. Even the reassuring thought of my lost tote being used by some ecologically conscientious Newfie was of little consolation.

The mysterious disappearance of an item that was attractive, practical and likely the only one of its kind in the state of Maine was distressing, but thanks to the passage of time and also to two special angels, each of whom went to the trouble of obtaining a brand new Yachats tote bag and sending it to me as a gift, the palpably paralyzing grief I felt began to slowly recede.

What brought the Yachats bag to mind last week was my son’s cat, who currently has permission to live in my previously animal-free residence for as long as my son does, but not a moment longer. Normally a healthy eater, Marina seemed a bit reluctant to consume her supper one night last week, and a closer inspection revealed why – a swarm of tiny food ants, the type that seem to show up at this time every year, were scurrying around her bowl of kitty food.

Clearly steps needed to be taken, so I decided to temporarily relocate the couch that was adjacent to the cat’s food dish in an attempt to discover the source of the insect convention.

Thankfully there wasn’t a swarm of ants (or any other vermin) beneath that couch, which clearly hadn’t been moved in quite some time. There were, however, some dust curls, several sheets of poster board, and … the original Yachats bag that had disappeared in Newfoundland last summer!

While unexpectedly solving this particular cold case is equal parts rewarding and delightful, I now have an even more baffling mystery on my hands: how did an inanimate object that wasn’t anywhere to be found in my son’s effects, my own luggage, or in our car when we returned from Canada last June end up reappearing in the dust beneath a couch 11 months after it had seemingly vanished forever?

I may never learn the answer to this newly discovered enigma. But it’s nice knowing I now possess what are likely the only three Yachats tote bags in the state of Maine. <