I have discovered over the years several types of minds. The “open mind” which catches everything except the truth. The “analytical mind” which organizes everything to the point of sterility. The “closed mind” which you can bounce ideas and they never stick.

For every man, there is the “woman’s mind.” Every husband knows if he wants to change his wife’s mind, all he has to do is agree with her. Finally, the “political mind,” which for all practical purposes is an oxymoron. Politicians obviously do not have a mind of their own. They change their mind so often you hardly know who they are.

I find most people’s minds are like beds – all made up and tucked neatly away. Many of these people have sound minds – sound asleep, that is.

The most valuable mind is the suspicious mind. It is in this frame of mind that the real picture has developed for me. An incident several years ago illustrated this to me.

We received one of those calls every American gets at least once a month. An invitation to come to Daytona Beach and spend two nights at a motel on the beach. The sponsor even offered to throw in breakfast, which we promptly threw out (or was it “up?”).
 

It all sounded wonderful. My wife and I had never stayed on the beach and thought it would be an excellent opportunity. Eagerly we said “yes” thrilled with the prospect.

“Oh, by the way,” the young woman on the telephone said, “you will be required to listen to a 90-minute presentation.”

It was then my suspicious mind kicked in. To be more honest, the kick came from my wife, who had the suspicious mind.

“Is there anything we have to buy?” my wife made me ask the delightful woman on the telephone.

“Absolutely nothing,” she said so cheerily, I believed her. My wife, “Miss Suspicion,” did not buy it for a second.

Finally, I convinced her to go and I arranged with the woman on the telephone for the two nights on the beach.

Looking back on this incident, I realize a suspicious mind does come in handy. 

I must confess (which is hard for me to do) my wife’s suspicious mind has saved us from a few potentially disastrous situations. (But you didn’t hear it from me.)

When we arrived at the Daytona Beach office, they greeted us most graciously. I was smiling a smile that said, “See, I told you this was going to be great.”

The cordial receptionist gave us a key to our room and easy-to-follow directions to our motel on the beach and, best of all, coupons for supper for two at a fancy restaurant.

So far, everything promised to be a magnificent adventure.

Just as I picked up the key, the lady reminded us of the 90-minute presentation. We had to sign up for a time that was “convenient for y’all.”

All I could see was that gregarious smile and the beach. As the glaze thickened over my eyes, I signed up. Then we were off.

While I was smiling, my wife was mumbling something like, “This is a mistake. I know there is a catch somewhere. Nothing is free.” 

Being the sophisticated husband I am with a vast, cultivated vocabulary at my disposal, I said nothing.

There is a time to speak, but every husband knows it is usually not when in the presence of his wife.

We had a great time. The beach was wonderful and late that night we enjoyed a marvelous supper. Everything was going along quite nicely and we drifted off to sleep listening to the waves rhythmically massage the beach outside our window.

Then the time came for the 90-minute presentation. It was quite educational. I learned my wife was right all along.

The “catch” she worried about was called a “timeshare.”

Timeshare is an interesting concept. First, you must buy a week (or two if you like). At that point, I was ready to sign up. My pen was dripping ink ready to sign anything, anywhere.