In an incident that happens only in movies, one day my father received a windfall — literally, some 20 years ago, while in his 80s, as he spent time in his garden.Mostly, he cleaned, scooping up dead leaves. It was early spring. As he bent over to scoop up a pile, he noticed some faded currency, which he took to be a dollar bill. Look again, J.D. — that’s a hundred dollar bill.
In those days, when a C-note would feed a family for a month, that was quite a windfall. But not wanting the loser to suffer, he tried to locate the owner, without necessarily stopping strangers on the street and asking if they’d lost a large bill. Instead, Dad went next door, where Mel Martinez, a CPA, performed income tax services.
Dad said he’d thought: “It’s income tax time; maybe a gust of wind blew the bill out of a client’s billfold into my yard.” Dad said Martinez was not aware of anyone losing money. So Dad got to keep the loot.
Almost.
One has to share the good news with his spouse. Dutifully, Dad told Mom about the find. She then made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, and anyone who remembers Marie knows what this means. She said, “Give me the money. But I tell you what: if you find another hundred-dollar bill, you can keep it.”
Well, touché, Mom. Later that day, he found another such bill in the yard. What are the chances?
And what are the chances Mom would counter with, “I have an even better plan: let me have that bill too, and if you find two more, they’re yours”? But it didn’t happen. Let’s not be greedy.
That experience came to mind Monday as I got an unexpected workout in chasing a hundred-dollar bill.
Let me explain:
Each payday I request a single hundred-dollar bill in change from the SECU teller. I unthinkingly placed the bill, inside the customary white envelope, on the front seat. At Dollar General, I agreed to give a ride to a man who said he’d just gotten out of jail. As we drove north on Cinder Road, I rolled down the windows, and as I looked into the rear-view mirror, I noticed a white envelope flying out of the car. It looked much like the envelope the teller handed me. I stopped, with my rider joining me to recover the envelope.
Remember, an unpublished Murphy’s Law demands that the larger the bill you’re chasing, the more likely it is to flit away by a gust of wind as you try to step on it.
It must’ve been quite a sight — a middle-aged man followed by an elderly man, running across fields on Cinder Road. My passenger snared the airborne envelope, and as I thanked him, I noticed it was empty. Was my passenger the culprit? Had he pocketed the money? Was it a movida like this that got him in jail in the first place?
Without accusing him, I spent minutes explaining the mysteries of drinking, getting thrown in jail, and of honesty. But as I was winding down my homily, I espied a crisp hundred-dollar bill trapped between the seats; it had never left the car.
I’d been too quick to judge. Well, I didn’t actually accuse him of pocketing the money, and he may have wondered why a simple envelope would require a Ben Hur-like chase.
We celebrated the discovery at a new place in the Mills Plaza called El Rancho Alegre, where we enjoyed a couple of the best — yet quite affordable — green chile burgers on the planet. Before I dropped him off, near the projects, I told him I’d not take him anywhere near a bar or liquor store.
He agreed, showing me his bandaged left arm, which hid an injury inflicted by his own dog. “Even my dog doesn’t like it when I drink,” he said. He announced he’d decided to swear off liquor at that moment, but as he walked away he added, “I’ve sworn off lots of times.”
There must be a light that flashes for every needy or down-and-out man when I’m around. Invariably, any request for a ride follows a bid for a few bucks. Monday’s friend never even discussed a transfer of money, although he seemed intrigued when I bought the burgers with a sheet of uncut two-dollar bills.
There’s a likelihood he never even saw the hundred dollar bill. I’d thought I lost it — by wind or wandering hand — but it was safely lodged between the seats of the car. It’s better that way, as I’m usually a soft touch, and I might have parted with the money, and left believing I’d done a good deed.
There’s a thin line between helping and enabling.
• • •
Here are the answers to last week’s quiz on great works. The object is to identify the work by changing only one letter in the title. The three readers who responded got all the answers correct. They will be identified next week, when a more challenging set of questions appears.
No. 1: Katherine Zeta Jones and Richard Gere join an ethnic-political group. (Chicago, Chicano)
No. 2: Some high schoolers, including Lindsay Lohan, challenge the dress code by wearing Levis-like clothes. (Mean Girls, Jean Girls)
No. 3: This novel by Austen leads Jane Bennett and her sister Elizabeth to the altar. (Pride and Prejudice, Bride and Prejudice)
No. 4: George Clooney and his crew go on an expedition to locate absolutely the best bird, even if it spends its life delivering babies. (The Perfect Storm, The Perfect Stork)
No. 5: This novel features an Italian polymath during the Renaissance who perfects a delightful cold confection you can hold in your hand. (The DaVinci Code, The DaVinci Cone)
No. 6: This movie, featuring Sean Penn, Tim Robbins and Kevin Bacon, is about a waterway infested with paste tilers use to make things stick to the floor. (Mystic River, Mastic River)
No. 7: Stallone, in full military regalia, learns a new dance. (Rambo, Mambo)