Hi, all, Just had an up-and-down day, which ended up and I wanted to share it.
Woke up in pain from the bus incident I mentioned yesterday -- sore back -- and Robert has a cold, but we managed to pull ourselves together enough to make it to the Strybing Arboretum (inside GG Park) to feed the squirrels, just before closing time, just about our favorite free thing to do (can you tell we're middle-aged? :-)) Robert was sitting on a bench in one of our favorite locations and I was standing some distance away (we've learned that when the two of us sit or stand together, some squirrels are too nervous to approach), when a huge mixed flock of birds swept down and did sort of a vacuum sweep of the area where lots of squirrels bury their nuts. They must do this every day, after the humans leave the area, but they didn't seem to notice, or mind, me. They picked the place clean of nut fragments and such, and the place looked professionally cleaned when they left. I wandered on to another section, and sat on a bench, waiting for squirrels. Of all things, a lone quail came out of the bush and sort of stood there expectantly, its little "plume" (I checked in my bird book -- that's what that funny bunch of feathers on top, black on most quails, is called) bobbing up and down. I broke up a walnut and threw a little piece at it. It happily started eating it, six feet away. I'd seen families of quail in the Park before, but never a loner before. He was still hanging around me when Robert found me. It was unbothered by any of the squirrels who came up for nuts, either. Wonderfully odd. On the bus ride home, Robert got off first, to change lines to go to his Spanish class. I got off the bus a couple of blocks later, to walk the four blocks home. Two blocks from home, a couple of small boys asked me if I could contribute to their school. I said I didn't have much money, but I could give them a dollar. They said that was enough -- and asked me to fill out the form for the raffle. My back still throbbing, I squatted down and filled it out. They thanked me and left. Shortly after I got home, I realized that when I'd squatted down to fill out the form for the raffle, I'd dropped my plastic cardholder -- which holds my bank card, most of my IDs, etc. Arrgghhh! I threw on a coat and retraced my steps a couple of times, looking especially hard at the corner where I was sure I'd dropped it. No dice. I went back home and got on the phone to my bank and waited and waited for a human to answer. My call-waiting beeped (indicating that someone was trying to call me); I hesitated, fearing a sales call; but I pushed the reset button to answer the incoming call. "Walter Breen?" I held my breath -- please, please, please don't let this be a sales call. "Yes?" "Did you lose a plastic card holder...?" Yes!!! "Oh my god, you found it?" "Yes, sir." This from what sounded like a very mature man. I asked him where I could meet him, and he said he'd be at his usual hangout (he didn't use the word "hangout" -- it was something more charmingly old-fashioned that that) for a couple of hours. He gave me his name, Ron Montero, and said anyone there would know him. >From the address, on Polk Street, I considered it likely that the place "Polk Street Station" and address "Polk Street at Pine" he gave me was a gay bar. There *are* a lot of gay bars in that neighborhood, but the Polk Street Station turned out to be an ancient 50s-style diner, and he was with three friends; he called my name the second I walked in -- one of his pals said, "Well, you sure *are* a tall fella!" -- I'd mentioned I was 6'6" -- makes it easier to identify me in a crowd. The place clearly catered to seniors. Mr. Montero even said "God bless you, young man," when I'd finished thanking him for the umpteenth time. I left in a happy daze. So: Maybe I wouldn't have dropped the cardholder if I hadn't stopped to contribute to the little boys' school; but I got my cardholder back. Higher powers at work? I leave that to each person to decide. But there are most definitely decent people in the world! Peace to all, Walt p.s. -- always leave your phone number in your wallet/purse/cardholder.
