Way back in 1971 two realtors in the Seattle region erected a massive billboard with the phrase “Will the last one to leave please turn out the lights” on the sign. This was in reference to the massive job losses and economic depression that the city suffered after Boeing went bust and people left en masse for other parts of the country.  

I don't think they were the first to use that phrase but it took on a life of its own in popularity after that and is still always used in reference to a migration of people out of a previously prosperous area such as the “Rust Belt” around Detroit and other areas that suffer some economic decline.  

So historically I guess, the last person to leave any venue has always been the one to douse the illumination.  And having been raised in a pastor’s family, we were always the last to leave church of course as we had to turn out the lights, lock the doors and take out the trash. But that tendency to be the last to leave seemed to carry over to any function we were at as we stayed on and on and on when other people with better sense had long gone home.  

Attending any function with people whether that is a church service, a pot-luck dinner, civic function or any other gathering of couples you soon notice one thing.  

The men sit around jaw jacking with one another with nary a care in the world as they know that the departure from said event is not in their hands at all. And it is funny to see the younger guys try and get their wives to leave when they are ready as they just have not learned how the whole process works. 

The men have learned to sit out of the way and wait patiently. Sooner or later however a wife will appear with a purse in hand and then said husband knows it's time to go whether he is ready or not. And he will give a grunt and say to all the rest of the men present, “well I guess I am going home.” Then he will rise with a sigh and dutifully follow the little woman out the door carrying the Corel dish she had brought the banana cream pudding in.  

This does cause some problems when a man is first married as he does not understand the “rules” and will try and get the wife to leave before she is ready. But give him enough time and soon he too will be sitting with the old guys just waiting for the signal to leave like all the rest of us.  

When Ol’ Dutch split the sheets with wife number one, I thought that I had escaped all that signaling and I found out that I could go home when I was good and ready. But as soon as Miss Trixie entered my life, it became apparent that we would always be not only some of the last to leave but we would always be the “very last” to leave.  

Now Ol’ Dutch loves that woman to pieces and having spent a lifetime sitting on trains I did learn an inordinate amount of patience when it comes to waiting. So it works out prettygood most of the time but let me tell you what, Miss Trixie can test even those patient pulses in me at times.  

I do not generally care when we go-which is usually late- or when we leave but when her gorgeous self tells me we are leaving, I have learned that means at least another 15 minutes for her to talk to the host or some new best friend she just  met and she is sure is a second cousin once removed.  

Sometimes this has caused something called a “rhubarb” or spat between us as Ol’ Dutch is out in the car waiting on Miss Trixie to go home and she is still detailing their family connections back to the Alamo in Texas history.  

But maybe it's like my Mom always used to tell me. “It's always better to go when you have to than to wait and find out you have already gone.” 

Kevin Kirkpatrick spends his days fishing, hunting, ATVing, hiking or making people laugh. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.com