Who Is My Neighbor?

It wasn't so much the money, but the way I had come to acquire it that perplexed me so. A week ago, I received a mysterious message that seemed to place me into the center of some grand scheme that to the best I could deduce seemed to involve the whole universe. And I don't just mean random shooting stars or strange encounters of fate. It seemed that the very birds and bustle of New York City had a part to play in this grand story I found myself in.

The message came in a small, black notebook someone had placed in my mailbox. Strange for sure, I had just moved into what seemed an ancient apartment in Brooklyn. Its pipes and floorboards seemed to creek incessantly and I wondered how many souls over the years have borne the haunting sounds of this apartment at night. At first, I thought this must be addressed to one of these previous owners. This notebook had no sending or return address stamped on it but to my surprise when I opened it my name was printed on the inside cover. The rest of the notebook was blank except for a short inscription written on the last page:

One who is generous in little can be trusted with much.

A strange inscription, I thought. I put the notebook on my desk and forgot about it until yesterday. I was in a hurry to get out the door and knocked the notebook off its resting place. It fell open to a name written across a page I must have missed. I picked up the notebook and a dollar fell out of its pages. I put both in my pocket and ran out to the street.

I had an important meeting to get to across town. I stopped by the local coffee shop and remembered the dollar I found and decided to treat myself to a croissant. As I was leaving, I noticed a disheveled man across the street. He had a sign in front of him stating he was homeless and hungry. I normally wouldn't have thought twice about it since this is such a common occurrence in the city. But there was something particularly uncommon about this man. He signed his name underneath his plea for help - John Davis. A stark reminder of his humanity. Then I realized that his name was the same as the one written in the notebook. I pulled it out quickly just to see and sure enough, the notebook had sprawled out on it: John Davis. I dug around more in my pocket for some change and realized I spent it all on the croissant that was in my other hand. I decided to give Mr. Davis all I had on me…the croissant.

I felt quite good about the encounter. I always like to help when I can and occasionally giving my pocket change to the homeless and destitute seems better than letting it pile by the doorway of my home. It was quite strange thinking about the notebook, but John Davis is a common enough name I didn't give it too much extra thought. Besides I had an important meeting to get to.

The meeting was an unexpected one. An old high school friend who I hadn't seen in twenty years reached out to me for a lunch meeting at a local sports bar. In high school, we were close friends, but I hadn't spoken to him since graduation. I wasn't sure what it could be about but was excited to catch up to someone I was close to so long ago. After catching up he explained that the reason he wanted to meet was that he felt bad about how our relationship ended. In high school, I had loaned him $500. At the time this was a substantial amount for both of us. To be honest I had forgotten about this loan, but my friend's face showed that this had been troubling him for a long time. He wrote me a check for $2,000 to pay back the loan plus interest. I tried rejecting it, but my friend was insistent on me taking the money. I took the check and placed it in my newly acquired notebook except this time I noticed another name written under John Davis'. I didn't recognize this name until the TV playing near us switched from sports to news. Almost immediately after reading the name a story came on about a young girl of the same name whose parents couldn't afford the medical bills for her cancer treatment. Suddenly my thought of a nice vacation to spend the $2,000 on switched to helping this girl pay her hospital bills. Was the notebook testing my generosity? What does the universe care about how I spend the little money I have? But I couldn't escape the feeling that this $2,000 was meant for her. I decided to go to the hospital and give this check to this family in need.

At the hospital, I was met with what was obviously a very poor family. They had no way of returning my generosity. I assured them that I expected no reciprocity and that in some way I felt the universe was in some leading me to help them. I decided not to tell them about the black notebook because even I could still hardly believe its contents. They thanked me profusely and accepted the check I had for $2,000.

On the cab ride home, I eagerly checked the notebook again. Half expecting some magical dust to fall out of its pages. But this time the pages were blank except for my name and the inscription on the last page. I figured that meant that I had passed the test, whatever that meant, and was excited to return home from such an eventful day.

When I arrived home, I found a briefcase sitting at my doorstep. Confused, I took it inside. I was no businessman and had no use for a briefcase nor knew anyone that carried one. I brought it into the kitchen and opened it. To my surprise was $20,000. I was ecstatic. This was life-changing money. The universe must be rewarding me for my generosity that day. I celebrated and began daydreaming of all the ways I could spend it. A new car, a down payment on a home, pay off student loans, a month in Europe. All these ideas began to fill my mind… then I remembered the notebook. I slowly opened its pages hoping to see my name. Instead, I found written: Neighbor. I looked out my small apartment window and saw a hundred John Davises and hundreds of apartment lights down the street. I then realized the greatest gift I have to give: my life.