As I roll my eyes back in my head to view my memories of my illustrious career as a Lost and Found Reporter, I find only one thing of which I can be certain: that it has come to an end far too soon. Brief though my time with the Lincoln Log has been, there is much that I have learned, and words alone fail me in expressing it. And so I fall back on the old familiar format, and I hope you will pardon any incoherence in the scattered ramblings of an old man, centered on a series of objects extremely fraught with metaphor.

Item 1: “Squeeze and Grind” Water Bottle
If I were asked to sum up the principal task, the meat and potatoes, of Lost and Found Reporting, in two verbs separated by an ampersand, these are the verbs I would employ. Faced with a seemingly random mishmash of lost things, I must first squeeze meaning out of them, drain them of the liquid of significance so that I may use it to fill my inkwell. Having done this, it falls to me to bring my nose to the grindstone, to be “on the grind,” as I have heard the youths of the nation say. And grind I do, taxing my mental resources until a cohesive Report stands at attention before me, like a modern-day Frankenstein made of words.

Item 2: “Brighton Jones” Drink Container
Encapsulatory is the word for this lidded mug, which I assume to be monogrammed with the name of a moderately distant relative of my editor-in-chief. In writing this Report, it is my objective to add a little extra joy to the lives of my readers; said another way, I always aim to “brighton” their day. The vessel is diminutive compared to its cohabitants, strikingly representative of my efforts to fit as much zest and zeal as possible into a relatively brief column. It is a challenge at which I hope I generally succeed, and I do think my life to be richer for it.

Item 3: Frog-and-Dragonfly Folder
Though I fail to hold a candle to this frog in terms of glamorousness of leg, I see in it a good deal of myself as a reporter. Like this shimmery amphibian, I always have one eye peeled wide open, on the alert for anything of interest in a place that most overlook. In its counterpart the dragonfly, I find inspiring resilience: regardless of what certain musical theater productions will tell you, no part of this dragonfly is delicate or dainty. In addition to wing damage, it appears to have suffered a drastically severed abdomen, and still it flies. I only wish I had come across this remarkable insect specimen sooner.

Item 4: “Be All In (Sweat Sweat Sweat)” Tote Bag
Though I have a full paragraph in store for this item, it would be erroneous to deny that the bag itself says it all. Writing the Lost and Found Report does not generally cause me to sweat (much less to sweat sweat sweat), but it still takes perseverance, creativity, and a tolerance for the sight of food long past its prime. The thing cannot be done by halves, and it has taught me to think outside the box, to be open to feedback from others, and to shed my inhibitions as necessary to write the best Report possible; in short, to be all in. The last lesson from this vessel comes in the form of punctuation, with the period at the phrase’s end reminding me not to be afraid of finality. I’ve truly loved writing this Report, and I’m grateful to everyone who’s read it and to all the people who’ve helped me along the way. This is Lost and Found Reporter George Groebner,    signing off.