I have a love/hate relationship with umbrellas. Sure, I love having one with me when it rains, and I try to keep one in the car. But I hate it when I reach in the back seat and come up empty-handed. Oh no, not again. Then I sit, with the windshield wipers flapping, wondering where I left the last one. I say the last one because in my lifetime I’ve owned enough umbrellas to supply Mary Poppins in a tropical rain forest. I’ve just never owned them for long,

I guess I started losing umbrellas in college, right around the time I was losing gloves at the same pace. I can still hear my mother saying, “You’d lose your head if it wasn’t sewn on.”

But by the time I was working in New York City, I was buying umbrellas from the corner sidewalk stands that spring up every rainy day. Those umbrellas were black, small, and cheap, so when I left one on the train, in church, or at a restaurant – all of which I did – I didn’t lose the rent money.

One Christmas, I received an elegant feminine umbrella covered with roses. It had a carved wooden handle and I was absolutely thrilled. It’s so special, I’ll never lose this one. I carried it only for special occasions, and even checked it once at a museum, knowing that I was capable of leaving it in a gallery. It was still gone before Easter.

Another special brolly had an interior of blue sky with puffy clouds. It was beautiful. I’m sure the person who found it in the overhead rack of the 747 thought so, too.

Golf umbrellas were a real eye opener for me. A broad golf umbrella can keep me and all my clothes dry, in addition to sometimes sheltering two people. They don’t fit in any purse or tote bag, but they sure give me a feeling of confidence when I’m carrying one on a rainy day. I figure something that big is hard to lose, right? Fuggedaboudit. It is just as easy to leave a big red and white striped golf umbrella on top of the coat rack as it is a little black one

My most recent and very favorite umbrella was the biggest golf umbrella I’ve ever owned. It was green, had a separate set of vents at the top, and had been a special gift. One rainy evening this spring, the weatherman projected 35 MPH winds with possible gusts to 60 MPH. Those weathermen aren’t always right. Right? Well, I had to run to Lowe’s for an emergency purchase. I knew it would be a quick trip – my errand was just a quick in and out.

The skies were dumping rain and the wind was kicking up as I headed into the store. The big umbrella was challenged by the wind, but I scooted across the slick parking lot as quickly as my replaced joints would carry me. I was pretty sure that by the time I came back out. the wind and rain would be calmer. What a dreamer!

As I headed back out into the dark, the wind was whipping the rain sideways, and the entire surface of the parking lot was one giant puddle. I was pushing my big boy bumbershoot hard into the wind, trying to walk on the leeward side. Suddenly, a huge gust whipped around from the back. It filled the umbrella, and yanked it – and me – to the right. Fighting for balance, my right arm was jerked straight up. I felt like Mary Poppins, about to become airborne, when the umbrella blew inside out. I was left fighting the battering wind and drenching rain, trying hard to hang onto my purse, my package, and a newly elongated six-foot umbrella. My mighty golf umbrella was bent and totally destroyed.

By the time I managed to get into the car, I felt the way the umbrella looked. When I got to the house, I stripped in the laundry room, loading the dryer as each piece came off. I was devastated about my most practical and favorite umbrella of all time, its working life so abruptly terminated.

And, in the future, when Mother Nature is dispensing downpours – with squalls gusting to gale force – I’m staying home, with my 17th golf umbrella safe in the car’s back seat.

I’ll leave the wet flying to Mary.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com