Commentary by Dick Wolfsie

I am a loser. I lose everything. Most people lose golf balls on a course; I lose clubs. One time I lost the golf cart. People lose their wallets; I lose my pants. Don’t ask. It’s a long story.

I recently reported on the Wolfsies’ trip to Banff, Canada, where I spent most of the time waiting in the car due to my bad knee. I managed to snap some great photos of my son, Brett, and my wife, Mary Ellen, as they headed out for a hike each morning, and I got some more scenic pics in the evening at dinner.

I’m a good photographer, but at the airport before our flight home, I lost my focus. I put my camera in the large gray tray to go through security. Then I forgot to retrieve it from the conveyor. When I went back five minutes later, it was gone. My Konica had been stolen, along with the pictures showing all the fun we had, although most of the photos were of Mary Ellen and Brett walking away from the car and heading off without me.

I had my name and email address taped on the back, but I assumed the camera was gone forever. Then last week, I opened my email and there was this note:

Dear Mr. Wolfsie:

Thanks for leaving your camera unattended at the Toronto Airport. I’ve always wanted a vintage one like that. But when I started looking through those pictures, my heart just went out to you. You have such a lovely family, so I am emailing you all your digital photos.

Your wife is very attractive, but tell her a lime-green sweater does not work with red hair. What’s with your white socks with blue jeans? Tell your son not to slouch when he walks. Also, why so few shots of you? Ever hear of a selfie? You should have more fun. The Wolfsies look very stiff.

Anyway, Dick, if I may call you that (I feel like I know you), I am keeping the camera, even though I would have preferred a Nikon.

P.S.  Do you know if they make a carrying case for this model?