Random Acts of Kindness

Thursday lunch hour I often set aside for running quirky personal errands, like today’s quest for something to cheer up a co-worker going through a tough time. Looking back later, I would wonder what lead me to the tiny gift shop and a series of unexpected events that turned my life upside down.

The shop itself was a bit of an anti-climax; my hope of browsing the offbeat and unusual was squashed by a maze of aisles laden with mainstream, greeting card ephemera. Almost leaving empty-handed, I spotted a box of hand-crafted bookmarks by the checkout counter.

“Aha, just the right one,” I said with a smile to the cashier, handing her one of the few dollar bills in my wallet.

On the short victory walk back to my car, I almost missed a small packet on the ground, but the unmistakable green of U.S. currency had my attention. In my hands, the packet felt heavy and I looked around the parking lot quickly before thumbing through the contents: a wad of bills and a number of personal checks, all made out to the same name. With my heart racing, I took a slower look around the strip mall parking lot, expecting to see someone searching for the money. Not a soul was even nearby.

In the sanctity of my car, I took a detailed inventory: four $20’s, eight $10’s, twelve $5’s, sixteen $1’s plus four personal checks. I blew out a breath. With dismay, I wondered if this was someone’s hard-earned rent money, and I immediately became obsessed with getting it back to them.

Google and Facebook didn’t give up much information on the names I had. Unabashed, I called the local credit union from the information on one of the checks. It took a bit of explaining to customer service, but once she understood the situation, she promised to call the account holder, let them know I found the check she had written to JoAnne, and pass along my contact info so the woman could be reunited with her missing money.

The call came just after dinner, like a cherry-topped dessert.

“Um, hello….I was told you might have found something I lost?”

After matching her name to the checks, along with getting an approximation of what was in the packet, I gladly agreed to meet her the next day during her lunch shift at “The Huddle,” a restaurant I was unaware of.

I arrived right at noon, but had to circle three times to find parking. A few folks in line to be seated gave me the eye as I made my way past them to the hostess.

“I’m looking for JoAnne…” The hostess’s face lit up and she beckoned me toward the counter, where trays of food were waiting under hot lamps. A youthful waitress approached me, tucking her hair behind an ear.

“Can I buy you lunch or something?” She pointed to a counter seat that had just opened up. Aware of the line I passed at the door, I shook my head no, but perched on the seat to get out of the way as the hostess showed a couple to their table.

“Oh, that’s kind of you, but I should get back.” I was clutching the envelope, and handed it to her without further ado, strangely shy about it after all it had taken to find her.

“I can’t believe it!” JoAnne looked briefly through the contents of the envelope, shaking her head, then pulling me in for a tight hug. “You don’t know what this means to me…”

Hugging her back, I noticed an old man sitting in the booth behind us, who suddenly averted his eyes, pulled out a little black book and began scribbling in it. He snapped it closed and met my gaze for a moment so brief I might have imagined it. JoAnne was trying to put something in my hands.

“Thank you so much! Please, take this… you deserve a reward or something!” I stepped back from the bill she offered me.

“Oh that’s kind of you, but no, I’m just so glad I was able to find you.” The deed done, I wanted to make my exit and nearly collided with the old man from the booth. I snuck another look at the black book in his hand, which he slipped into his jacket pocket as he motioned for me to proceed him out the door.

He glanced at his watch and hurried off. “Have a good day,” he sang out over his shoulder. I couldn’t help but watch as he hustled to the bus stop just as it was pulling up and got on. The doors whooshed shut behind him, and the bus was on its way. I gave a laugh, and made my way back to the office, filled with the warm glow of doing something good, and putting the strange events out of my mind.

Until the next week.

After my usual Saturday morning run in my neighborhood, (ok, more like a jog) I popped into Save Mart for some detergent. My next stop was usually the laundromat, and as I waited in the checkout line, I looked forward to having time with the paperback I was currently reading: a juicy mystery. I became aware that the pace of the line had slowed.

“That’ll be $52.98,” the cashier was repeating, watching the middle-aged woman going through her wallet. She had a pair of 20’s pulled out, and was searching through the wallet’s slim pocket again.

“My goodness, I don’t know what to do,” she stammered. “I was sure I had another 20 in here.”

“Here, I’ve got it,” offered the customer in front of me, pulling out some bills and handing them to the cashier. She had her back to me, but her toddler was sitting staring at me with wide eyes. I smiled and wiggled my fingers at her.

“That’s mighty kind of you,” thanked the woman, and the cashier agreed, grateful to keep her line moving. I was just putting my purchase on the conveyor belt when I spotted the old man again, in the lane next to ours. What! He was scribbling in that book again. He picked up his small bag of groceries and started out the door. Crap! I was torn between making my purchase and running out after him. Curiosity won, and leaving my detergent behind, I said, “Sorry,” to the cashier and made my way around the other customers.

By the time I got outside, I had no idea what I was going to do. I looked around and spotted his now-familiar figure headed down the block. Why did he always turn up to witness some random act of kindness? Thinking of my pulp fiction detective, I put my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt and started following him, trying not to look suspicious.

My initial curiosity gave way to shock then disbelief as I followed his movements for a few hours. His next stop was an alley across from a Thai restaurant. I had to duck into the entryway of a liquor store to watch what would happen, feeling foolish as I pretended to read the posters taped to the window. A couple holding hands and carrying to-go boxes left the restaurant, then after conferring together, gave their meals to a teenager that was playing guitar on the curb and looking for handouts. A note was made in the black book, and we were off once again.

At the park, he took a bench, and I hid behind a tree. We watched an SUV pull up near a picnic table where a small family was gathered. The driver opened the back hatch and lifted out a pink bicycle with training wheels and pushed it toward the group, leaving it halfway between them and stepping back. A little girl looked at her dad, whose nod sent her racing to the bike with a big grin. Again, he made another entry in the black book and consulted his watch.

He took a paved path through the park, which made it extremely hard to follow him undetected. I bent to slowly re-tie my shoelaces, waiting until he made it around a bend, then started after him.

Exiting the park, I thought I lost him. Looking down the street, I saw an oncoming bus headed for its next stop. Yes, there he was, sitting on the bench. Helplessly, I watched him board the bus and make his way to the next destination. Taking a seat on the bench he had just left, I played the scenes back over in my head, but was no closer to understanding what I was witnessing. I noticed a jacket hanging on the back of the bench… was that his? Looking around, I pulled it into my lap and started going through the pockets. When I felt the shape of the book, I paused. Would I finally find out his secret?

Slowly, I took it out and savored the anticipation of the moment. Holding my breath, I thumbed through the pages, astonished to find I could not make out the meaning of any of the scribbles. Yes, it looked like random markings, not even letters or numbers. My shoulders slumped as I kept turning pages. Then, I flipped to the inside front cover and finally got a clue: an address label, in English!

“Property of Matthew M, Oak Haven Senior LIving.”

On the long walk back to my car, I Googled the name on my phone, and found an address for the retirement community. Tomorrow, I thought, remembering I still had laundry to do.

Sunday afternoon, I drove to Oak Haven wondering what I would say to Matthew when I turned up with his mysterious book. I had stopped for a box of chocolates first (can’t show up for a visit empty handed!), deciding on an assortment of creamy centers.

At the front desk of Oak Haven, the attendant asked me to sign in.

“I’m here to visit Matthew… um, I found something of his,” I tried to explain. I put down the chocolates and held up the book to the page showing his name.

“Just a moment.” The attendant went through a set of doors behind her. I looked around the lobby and read a board featuring coming events. A trip to the Botanical Gardens Monday, Bingo on Tuesday...the week seemed filled with adventures.

The doors opened again, and the attendant was back, along with a male nurse that was carrying an old leather satchel. He came around the counter to me and pointed to one of the sofas.

“Why don’t we sit down?” We sat on opposite ends, facing each other.

“Is Matthew ok?”

“I’m sorry… he passed on last night.”

“But… I just saw him...he seemed fine. Spry, even,” I added lamely, through my surprise.

“He requested we give this to anyone that showed up with his book,” he continued, putting the satchel on the floor and pushing it over to me. We both sat looking at the worn leather bag. I handed him the book, which he slipped into a pocket.

“Thank you, he would have been glad to know you came,” he said, getting up and heading back to the front desk.

I continued to stare at the case on the floor, finally picking it up and going out to the car. Still reeling from the news, I held the heavy case in my lap, and pulled open the zipper. Inside, I found another black book...on top of bundles of tightly wrapped bills. Counting the bundles, I realized there must be over $20,000 here!

Slowly, I opened the book to the first page, and this time I could read the writing: a single address, date and time. I looked at my watch and smiled. If I hurried, I could just make it there in time.