On Sunday, I played tennis at Crocheron Park, as I do every Sunday. It was hot and an hour of singles was enough to send me rushing home for a cool shower. As I got out of my car, I realized that I was missing my fanny pack in which I had my wallet, cell phone and other items that pretty much comprise my life. Without them, I would be lost.
I wheeled the car around and sped back to the park. No fanny pack. Nor, upon questioning, did anyone claim to have seen it. Returning home, I prepared to spend the next hour or so on the telephone canceling the cards and my cell phone account. I would have to spend the next day replacing everything.
An awful prospect, to say the least, but as I sat down at the phone, I noticed the message light flashing. It was you, a total stranger, calling to say that you found my bag and provide your phone number to call you back. I did so immediately. You told me where to find you at the park and I rushed to our rendezvous.
So excited was I that I did not even think to ask how I would know you. The part of the park you said you were in was hosting a children's fair with inflatable bounce toys and myriad games. Looking out over the sea of parents and children, I realized that my chances of picking you out of the crowd were slim to none. I had your cell number, but you had my cell phone. Another good Samaritan let me use her phone and you answered immediately.
“I'm wearing a pink baseball cap,” you said, to which I replied that I would stand on home plate of the baseball diamond the children's fair surrounded. Out of that throng of people emerged a family led by an angel in a pink baseball cap with my fanny pack in her hand.
We hugged and you refused to accept a reward of any kind. For you, virtue was its own reward and the object lesson for your children. For me, my appreciation was boundless and I want the world, or as much of it as I can reach in this way, to know about the goodness that is you.
I still do not know your last name, but I have no doubt that those who are important to you will recognize you in this letter and will know who you are.
Thank you, Daisy in the Pink Baseball Cap.
Stuart Hersh
Douglaston
