Recently, I started noticing “Lost in History” posts on Facebook. These posts highlight things from the past that are rarely seen today—like penny candy, green stamps, roller skate keys, washtub wringers, the Fuller Brush man, and 15-cent McDonald’s hamburgers. They also bring back memories of vintage toys, sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper, bell-bottom pants, white shoe polish, the Yellow Pages, and old-fashioned cash registers where the cashier manually made change. I enjoy these posts not only because they’re fun to look at, but also because they stir up other long-forgotten memories hidden in the corners of my mind.

One of those “memories” actually sits on my desk. It’s an old Coast & Clark’s plastic Zipper container that holds all of my hopscotch “lucky lagers.”

When I was searching for something in my “treasure box” months ago, I came across this little memory. It caused me to pause and remember how, as a child, I collected broken chains to use for my “lagers” when I played hopscotch. I kept all of my chains in this, one of my mother’s discarded plastic zipper containers.

I wondered why I called the chains “lagers” so I researched the word and found that it has nothing to do with broken chains or hopscotch but everything to do with the making of beer. But then I thought.. hmm… what if “lager” is actually spelled with 2 g’s… and sure enough a lagger (2 g’s) is a small object used to mark squares in a game of hopscotch. Players throw the lagger into the squares in numerical order, then hop on one foot through the squares, avoiding the square with the lagger.” (AI-overview).

When I took the lid off the container, I did see a 4-leaf clover with my name engraved on it, so either that’s where the “lucky” in “Lucky Laggers” came from, or I was good/lucky at playing hopscotch.

There’s something else that has been puzzling me about this memory though.

I emptied all the chains onto my desk, spreading them out to examine each one closely. Some were short, others long. Most were broken, though a few remained intact. I inspected them one by one until I reached a particular chain that made me pause. With my right index finger, I gently rolled it around in the palm of my left hand. Something about it held my attention—an almost familiar feeling. A memory stirred faintly, just out of reach, refusing to fully surface.

What was it about this particular chain that was holding my attention?

After a while, I placed the chain back in the container and returned it to its spot on my desk. But every now and then, I take it out to examine it again, hoping that one day the connection will become clear. Maybe, just maybe, a post on “Lost in History” will surface and unlock that elusive memory.