Although it's hard to make a generalization on the basis of twice, I always get lost driving to Charlottesville.

But then, I get lost a lot, although I have an excellent sense of direction. I love getting lost, although usually in hindsight. Good things happen. The single biggest scoop of my journalism career, for example.

However, when I got lost as a 5-year-old at Mount Vernon, it wasn't fun. I ducked behind a wall to get a drink at a water fountain. When I emerged, my family was gone. (We were traveling with old friends, who had three kids, so it was a more chaotic group than usual.) A little old lady found me walking by myself, crying or not to cry, and took me to the police/security officer.

At the time, it was an article of faith that lost children were offered ice cream cones. And, in fact, I was offered one, but I was still thirsty so I asked for a coke. I waited in the little turret-shaped cubby. Suddenly, I saw my mother walking along with our family friend. Her face was set in a way that I remember to this day, but I can't quite describe it. Deep lines along her mouth and between her eyes, although she was quite young, an expression that awed me. To think that I could make my mother that sad.

Upon being reunited with my family, my sister asked about the ice cream. Yes, I said, I had been offered one, but I chose a Coke.

"You should have said you wanted both and then I could have had the ice cream."

Seriously, though, she missed me, too.

Ever found anythinig when you were lost? Other than the way out, I mean.