Gifts from Strange Places
A few weeks ago, I got a box from the mother of a convicted felon. This box was full of belongings of my mother. Keepsakes from her past high school graduation reunions that she'd attended with such joy for decades. Photos went as far back as 1990. Letters galore from some of her friends, too.
So how did it end up in the hands of a convict? Long, long story. Like so many of mother's stories, some that would make your hair stand on end.
Suffice it to say that the felon's mother found it among other items he'd left in her home that he'd managed to take from my mother's after he invaded it under the guise of being a legitimate craftsman, a fact that people in the community who knew him years earlier vowed was true.
His mother figured out the stuff belonged to my mother and that he'd somehow gotten it into his pile of belongings "by mistake" after Ron and I succeeded in getting this crook and ne'er-do-well out Mom's old run-down house that he took on, vowing to fix it up. Which he did, as long as somebody was watching him every day. When the designated supervisor was no longer available, the work ceased, as did the photos demonstrating he was accomplishing what he was hired to do.
Imagine my joy at seeing these wonderful treasures--which were only treasures to me because I knew how much they meant to Mom.
Was there any chance she was wrong about everyone except her being dead? I wondered, doubting myself for even raising the question. Mom had been quite certain everyone was gone since she'd not heard from anyone for years.
Still, I couldn't resist the urge to pursue the possibility. Since making and nurturing good connections fits my style, I set to work--calling every number on Mom's very organized roster, complete with the birthdays of each student in her little graduating class. All numbers were non-working.
Yet, when I found a 4-page letter written from her friend Arlene, I went back into the white pages and looked up the old address--sure enough Arlene still was shown to be living at the same address where she'd sent the letter fifteen years ago to my mother! At 92, if the white pages were correct, she was still there, only 10 minutes from where my mother now lives, though there was no phone # associated with the address.
Next, I looked at the family names associated with the old friend. Only one was really unusual--yet so unusual I decided it was worth pursuing.
Sure enough! Her granddaughter soon answered her email. And the rest is history. I talked to Arlene first myself. Then Mom's caregiver did, and Monday was their day of reunion after years of Mom assuming there were no classmates left. As far as Arlene knows, there are none except Mom.
Oh, the power of connections that sometimes lead to amazing things right under our noses!
I'm grateful for this gift that got returned. Considering all the other things pilfered by multiple thieves from my mother's home, this is the only story I have left that's worth repeating. The smiles of these two old friends have made my year!!
So how did it end up in the hands of a convict? Long, long story. Like so many of mother's stories, some that would make your hair stand on end.
Suffice it to say that the felon's mother found it among other items he'd left in her home that he'd managed to take from my mother's after he invaded it under the guise of being a legitimate craftsman, a fact that people in the community who knew him years earlier vowed was true.
His mother figured out the stuff belonged to my mother and that he'd somehow gotten it into his pile of belongings "by mistake" after Ron and I succeeded in getting this crook and ne'er-do-well out Mom's old run-down house that he took on, vowing to fix it up. Which he did, as long as somebody was watching him every day. When the designated supervisor was no longer available, the work ceased, as did the photos demonstrating he was accomplishing what he was hired to do.
Imagine my joy at seeing these wonderful treasures--which were only treasures to me because I knew how much they meant to Mom.
Was there any chance she was wrong about everyone except her being dead? I wondered, doubting myself for even raising the question. Mom had been quite certain everyone was gone since she'd not heard from anyone for years.
Still, I couldn't resist the urge to pursue the possibility. Since making and nurturing good connections fits my style, I set to work--calling every number on Mom's very organized roster, complete with the birthdays of each student in her little graduating class. All numbers were non-working.
Yet, when I found a 4-page letter written from her friend Arlene, I went back into the white pages and looked up the old address--sure enough Arlene still was shown to be living at the same address where she'd sent the letter fifteen years ago to my mother! At 92, if the white pages were correct, she was still there, only 10 minutes from where my mother now lives, though there was no phone # associated with the address.
Next, I looked at the family names associated with the old friend. Only one was really unusual--yet so unusual I decided it was worth pursuing.
Sure enough! Her granddaughter soon answered her email. And the rest is history. I talked to Arlene first myself. Then Mom's caregiver did, and Monday was their day of reunion after years of Mom assuming there were no classmates left. As far as Arlene knows, there are none except Mom.
Oh, the power of connections that sometimes lead to amazing things right under our noses!
I'm grateful for this gift that got returned. Considering all the other things pilfered by multiple thieves from my mother's home, this is the only story I have left that's worth repeating. The smiles of these two old friends have made my year!!
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