A Not So Random Act of Kindness

Sitting at home on Wednesday night, my parents arrived home from Manhattan. (Yes, I live with mother -- for a few more weeks, anyway.) My father, with a few glasses of wine under his belt, announced that he had lost his wallet in the city. The man who has never used a PC also has never used an ATM, so there was about $350 in cash in there, along with credit cards, etc. My mother asked me to pray to Saint Anthony. Apparently, he is in charge of God's lost-and-found.

Dad had lost his wallet many years ago, and the cab driver returned it to him. He was so pleased that he wrote a letter to the mayor and the guy received a citation of some sort. Mom said, that time they'd received a phone call at 3am. "It's not three yet, Mom," I reminded her.

When I got up the next day my mother was awake, and told me she hadn't slept well, thinking about Dad losing his wallet. A little before noon, I received a phone call at the office. The cab driver had found the wallet. Dad gave me his number and asked me to arrange to meet him. He also made sure that I got the guy's name and asked me to give him $100 from the wallet to thank him. I talked to Brant on the phone. He explained that the wallet had gotten wedged between the seats somehow, that this happens all the time, and that he was happy to return it.

At the end of the day, I met Brant on the corner outside my office in Greenwich Village. He handed me the wallet:

"Please count everything so that you know it's all there," he said earnestly. I smiled, thinking to myself, this guy drove all the way down here to return this -- I think I can trust he didn't skim a little off the top.

I handed him a piece of paper, and asked him to write down his name. I pulled out five 20's and said, "Dad wanted you to have this."

As he sheepishly took the $100, he did not smile. He looked at me and said, "Are you sure?"

I said, yes. He took the money and looked down. I wanted to say something more, but he began to pull away and just said, "God bless you man." And then he was gone.

I had been telling the story of the cab driver who returned the wallet filled with money all day long and every person I told smiled and then had their own story of when a New Yorker showed some unexpected kindness. But what struck me about the whole deal was that Brant didn't light up when I handed him a wad of money. It wasn't about that for him. It was about doing the right thing.

When I got home, I handed Dad his wallet and he hugged me. I think everybody felt a little better about the world. Chalk one up for St. Anthony.

Now if we could just get the cab drivers to stop driving like maniacs ...