The Right Thing

[dropcap]I [/dropcap]once lost a wallet with one thousand dollars cash tucked in it. I lost it in a Piggly Wiggly parking lot. The next day, the store called me. They informed me someone had returned my wallet to the front desk along with a yellow sticky note reading, “Do the right thing.”

I wish I had that note.

Another time: I had a tire blowout on the highway. A man from the Department of Transportation pulled over to help me change my tire. The whole ordeal ended up taking only ten minutes. I tried to pay him fifty dollars, but he gave an emphatic “no,” stating he was a Methodist and didn’t accept money for acts of charity. So, the gentleman and I visited the First United Chapel Of The Tom-Thumb-Six-Pack.

After all, he was Methodist.

Here’s another story: fourth grade. Grandparent’s Day. It was a day when children’s grandparents visited them at school. I was the only student in our entire class without a pair of white-haired visitors. I sat at my desk feeling like most lonely little boy on earth. My grandfather was ill, and we’d just recently laid my grandmother in the ground.

That’s when my teacher, Mrs. Everhardt, called her husband to pinch hit. Together, she and he served as my surrogate grandparents for the day. She told my classmates she and I were related, distant cousins – which was a blatant lie. Mrs. Everhardt still sends me a card on my birthdays. She signs it, “Grandma.”

Don’t tell me good people don’t exist.

Because I’ll bet you a thousand bucks they do.

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