Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Double Troubles Part 3

Dear reader, I realize in these posts that I’m stretching the definition of “doppelganger” a bit beyond the classic supernatural connotation, but I think I have a good reason, if you will bear with me.

In the spring after our son was born, I ordered some supplies from a mail-order catalog, including a set of diaper clips – learning to diaper a happy, squirmy baby made me fear poking him with the traditional diaper pin, and this seemed to be a nice solution to that anxiety. Weeks passed without the order arriving, and after contacting the company, I received an irate letter accusing me of being a thief, accompanied with a copy of a UPS receipt purportedly signed by yours truly. It wasn’t my signature, and the address was on the opposite side of town.

I managed to track down this other “John Stanton” and met with him at his house. We both dropped a few names, and it turned out that we weren’t related. When the package was delivered, he was in the process of moving to his new home, and he had the box addressed to me on a table by his front door, still unopened. I had ordered the shipment sent to my P.O. Box, but it had been shipped by UPS, which simply had delivered it to the first John Stanton they could find.

My documentation of the miss-delivery earned me a profuse apology from the author of the above-mentioned irate letter.

Fourteen years later, I purchased a used gray Nissan Stanza from a dealership not far from home. A few weeks later, I contacted the dealer regarding some minor issue, and when the salesman read my address from his computer screen, it wasn’t mine, but it seemed familiar. Not far from the address where I had picked up the “Happy Family Products” package with the diaper clips all those years before. It seems that the other John Stanton had purchased the same make, model and color car, from the same dealership, just the day before I had bought mine. The only difference was, he had an automatic transmission while I had purchased one with a stick.

One of the lighter moments in my eerie, discordant dance with Synchronicity.

Know Your Double 

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