Lost and Found, and Lost Again

by Calendario Seghetto

This is a love story.

Well, not really. I always wanted to start off a column that way, just to see if I could increase my female readership, which I suspect is sadly faltering. But this month's offering does involve a woman, a car and a mystery. And isn't that what love's all about?

Back in 2000 (that sounds strange, doesn't it? Remember the good ol' days?), Betty bought me a car on the Internet; a slightly-used, shiny black roadster. And what a delight it has been.

We had the car shipped here from Louisiana. I don't know how it got to the "Big Easy," as the previous owner lived in New York City. I guess anytime leasing companies and lending institutions are involved, anything can happen.

About a month ago, while cleaning out the interior, I found a 1999 date book underneath the passenger seat; presumably lost by the previous owner.

Not just a date book, but also chock full of names and telephone numbers of personal and professional contacts; hundreds of them, which obviously took someone a long time to collect.

And not an ordinary date book, either. This one is a "Calenderio," a genuine Italian date book, although all of the entries are written in English.

I've heard that there exists just six degrees of separation between all of us on Planet Earth. If I made a list of everyone I know, and each of those people did the same, and this occurred four more times, eventually we would go full circle and my name would appear on someone's list six generations out.

Another theory holds that if someone is mentioned in the Fence Post, eventually that mention will find its way to the intended target. I am here today to test that thesis. I want this column to find its way into the hands of the person who previously owned the roadster and would like to retrieve the date book. I trust each of you will help make that happen. So please make a copy of this column and mail it to a few folks. Or forward the link to the Internet version, which is posted at http://www.calendarhacksaw.com/ch0102.htm

The owner's name is not included in the date book, but I believe it to be a woman, as the roadster arrived with an ashtray full of cigarette butts soaked in dark red lipstick. Because she chose an Italian date book, I have elected to name my mystery woman "Francesca." I hope she doesn't mind; it's such a "hot" name.

In order for us to locate Francesca, we must first examine the chaos and clues of her life in 1999, which we have before us. And a very active life it was.

Francesca got off to a good start with a New Year's Eve party at Vanessa's. Vinny and Chris might have been there, too. But come the following day, she was off to Montauk, at the end of Long Island. The name Montauk, of course, is derived from the Algonquian word "Meuntacut," indicating "High Land."

On January 3, she flew to Los Angeles, where she had two meetings with Mars and a possible meeting with "Cubby." Wasn't he one of the original Mouseketeers?

While in L.A., our mystery woman engaged in four days of "shooting" and two days of "editing," before returning to New York just in time for the Super Bowl on January 31.

But five days later, it was back to L.A. again and more shooting.

Jury duty intervened on February 15 and 16, after which she spent the first of many Sundays with "St. John." So there's an obvious Twin Oaks connection here, which could make for an interesting column of its own.

April 12 saw Francesca flying to London, and five days later to Japan, returning to N.Y. on the 26th.

It was L.A. again in May for a few days, followed by dinner with Caroline Jones and lots of time in Montauk.

L.A. beckoned again in July, but Vancouver in August was surely nice.

The pattern continues with more shooting in L.A. in October and November. December 22 offered some diversion when she "mixed Cheetos" and headed off to Connecticut. I'll bet everyone enjoyed tasting Francesca's Cheetos medley. We must get the recipe in time for the Super Bowl.

Along the way, Francesca enjoyed a few Yankees games, took part in many conference calls, sometimes went to "Group" at 5:45 (perhaps a serious drinking problem?), and spent considerable time at "NYSC," which could be New York Sports Club or the National Youth Service Corps.

She also possessed a "Continental Airlines OnePass Silver Elite Priority Line" card, a moniker clearly designed to make the holder think highly of herself, like my Rubidium Standard Platinum Cow Belle Passport, which virtually assures me of priority counter seating unless Tom Robinson's already occupying my stool.

Of course, there are many other clues and details to Francesca's life, but those listed above should suffice. If she will contact me at calendarhacksaw@highdesert.com or twistedsisters@hotmail.com, I will be more than happy to arrange for the return of her Calendario.

But in return, I would appreciate it if she would contribute $200 toward replacement of the rear window on the roadster, since she carelessly neglected to unzip it and lay it flat when leaving the top down for extended periods. What were you thinking, Francesca? Were you stoned out of your mind on Cheetos again?

Then again, anyone who willingly spends so much time with St. John can't be entirely bad, can they?

Calendario Seghetto lays his window flat at http://www.calendarhacksaw.com, and he'd really appreciate it if Francesca would also give back the CD changer she so selfishly removed from the roadster.

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