By Nan Cooney | Special to the Courier

According to a recent Los Angeles Police Department news release, there has been a disturbing rise in “distraction thefts,” where thieves steal valuables through a sleight-of-hand trick. This is my story of such an attempt and my suggestions to those of us who, by being elderly and out in our front yards alone, can become a target.

One recent afternoon while recovering from an upset stomach, I was in my front yard checking my mail, and there, parked at the curb, was a woman in a white van energetically calling “Lady! Lady!” I approached and came to understand that she and a male driver needed directions to a hospital. I extended my arm to point: “Go west two lights and turn left on Garey, then …”  “No, not hospital,” she said, frustrated. There was a language barrier.

It turned out she wanted a place to move her aging father. She reached her hand out of the car in a way that told me she needed more of my help. I shook my head, “No, I’m sick!” She grabbed my hand and then went on about her dad. I could barely understand what she said. I imagined a man sitting alone on the brink of eviction.

While this exchange was going on, she kept grabbing my hand. I assumed it was in friendliness or gratitude, but it unnerved me. Touch by a stranger felt odd. I chalked it up to a cultural difference. Perhaps she was from eastern Europe? She reminded me of a woman from that part of the world who was also effusive. She asked for the time. When she couldn’t understand what I said, she grabbed my wrist and consulted my worn Timex.

“You have a nice house. How many live there?” she asked.

“Just me. My husband died recently.”

“Oh, so sad,” She kissed my left hand in sympathy. “You live by yourself? In that big place?” I nodded. “Could I go in and see it?”

“No, I’m sick.”

“Oh, yes, you are sick. We will go.”

She reached into a large purse on her lap and pulled out two costume jeweled gold rings. Before I could decline, she had put them in my left hand. She waved goodbye and they were down the street.

I went inside, disappointed by my inability to communicate. I put the rings on a table.
“I’ll give them to two young neighbors,” I thought. Then I rested.

At bedtime I went to take off my wedding ring and place it on the night stand. It wasn’t on my finger. I looked around without success and realized what had happened. I began to cry. I flashed back to the day we selected it, the day of our wedding when he put it on my finger, and the 51 years I had worn it. I assumed that it, like our marriage, would last forever.

When my outpouring subsided, I remembered that I had asked myself recently if I might ever give up wearing my ring. I was a widow. I was single. Single people did not have the connection, protection, and love the ring signified. “I’ll know when or if the time comes when I am ready to take it off for good,” I told myself.

Well, the time had come. Early; not by my choice! I was angry with the thieves, yes, but I was furious with myself. I was such a pushover, a mark, a loser! I let a stranger grab my hand, kiss it. Now I don’t have a way to visibly honor the moment when I feel strong enough to take the next step and remove my wedding ring. It would have been good to put it in a lovely box in a drawer, retired, but within reach.

“Misdirection” has a few meanings. It refers to the difficulty I had communicating with the middle-aged couple. We missed each other’s meanings, eluded connection, felt the language barrier. It is also used to describe what happens in a magic show when the coin, the wallet, or the ring disappears from the owner’s body and is revealed later by the magician. I had participated in an off-stage version of a show called “confuse and collect.” Unfortunately, the magician did not end the show by revealing the ring tucked in my pocket.

I made resolutions as a result of this experience:

• I will be a less forthcoming with people I don’t know.

• I will take pictures of people, cars, and license plates when people linger in the neighborhood.

• If I am a victim, I will call the police and handle the fake jewelry as little as possible. It may have potential DNA evidence.

• I will warn my friends and give them this information to place on their refrigerators: Claremont Police (909) 399-5411, LAPD (877) 527-3247, and lacrimestoppers.org, where people can submit anonymous tips.

• I will ask younger friends to monitor social media and keep me informed of scams to avoid. Perhaps one day they will tell me that my magician and driver were caught!    

Nowadays, when I gaze at my left hand, the absence of a wedding ring reminds me that I am at a new stage of life that has many challenges and rewards. Paying close attention to what is happening around me is one challenge. Sharing experiences such as this is a reward.

Nan Cooney is a Bronx native who studied, worked, and raised a family in Milwaukee. She now experiences West Coast sunsets in Claremont with the Pilgrim Place community.