His Do-ness

Not everyone knows this, but my very good friend Don K has a nickname.  It's "Do"

Don and me, circa 2000

It was given to him by my late partner, Hatem, who used to repeat his nickname whenever Don happen to declare an idea or slogan that on the onset seemed really over the top.  ".....Do ....Do ....Do...."  So contagious was this nickname to people who heard it that many of them who still know him still call him Do.  Me?  I like to call him Don.

Don takes me out to lunch at least once or twice a month.  We meet at a designated location, and then he suggests a place and we go there.  I was busy all week, but on Thursday, Don called and asked whether I had time to have lunch.  Of course, I said yes.  We agreed to meet at the corner of Haight and Clayton at noon.

Around 11:00 A.M. I decided to kill two birds with one stone and go first to Ace Hardware and Plumbing on Geary Street to pick up a part I needed for my restaurant sink sprayer.  Besides, the sun was out; and after a long and wet storm, I was glad to go out.

For some unknown reason, except to say that I wanted to take it slow and easy and enjoy the beautiful day, I chose to drive down Cabrillo Street, a quiet residential street that runs parallel to Geary Street about four blocks south.  There was literally no one in sight, and only other cars on the street at that time were the ones that were parked by the curbs.

About twenty blocks into the drive, around Twenty-seventh Avenue, I noticed something lying in the gutter.  I looked again, and saw a gray and black backpack halfway on the sidewalk and  halfway in the flooded gutter.  In an instant I thought, "I need a backpack.  I could use this backpack."  Remarkably, where the backpack was lying was right next to the only available parking place on the block.  I thought, "This was meant to be!"

I pulled into the parking space having just felt like I won the lotto and parked my car.  How cool to find a backpack in the middle of the curbside!  It's a small item, but I needed one!  I was in seventh heaven.

Mindlessly, I bent down and lifted the soaking backpack upright.  It felt heavy.  There was something inside of it.  I opened it up and saw a pair of running shoes.  My mind was now racing -- how cool!  The backpack came with running shoes that looked to be my size!  What a double score!  I then noticed that next to the backpack was a windbreaker much the same color as the backpack.  Neat-O!  A backpack, a pair of running shoes, and a windbreaker!  This was getting even better!  Curiously, I lifted the soaking windbreaker up to see if it were my size and out tumbled a wallet!  Wow!

What I had imagined was the score of the century with a new (used) backpack, a pair of running shoes, and a nice windbreaker was fast becoming a story that I've seen happen many times in the parking area of the Cliff House at Point Lobos.  My heart sank into my stomach as I reached for the wallet.  Someone, I was thinking, got her backpack stolen.  Someone, I was thinking, had broken into a car, snatched the prized solution to a quick fix , drove off, taken what they wanted out of it, and then ditched the quick fix shell and all of its useless contents by the roadside.  My heart was breaking.

I placed all of the items in the back of my car, except for the wallet, which I put on the front passenger seat and sat in front of the steering wheel thinking about my next move.  It had all been too much!  Too overwhelmed with what just happened, I decided to think about my next move on my way to the hardware store.  I've always felt intensely nervous at going through other peoples belongings, and even now in the midst of this catastrophe I was unable to go through this very private wallet.  But I knew I had to do something.  Someone had just been robbed, and I had their very precious items in my car.

I found parking right away on Geary Street in front of the hardware store.  I carefully picked up the soaking wallet that had been sitting right next to me screaming to be looked at, and opened it.  My mind was exploding.  Credit cards, airline ticket stubs, a driver's license...it was a lot to digest.

Nothing is worse than being robbed of your most private and cherished possessions.  And they are ALL private and cherished possessions.

Looking through the wallet, I tried to find something that had a phone number on it.  One of the cards that was lodged in one of the slots that housed the credit cards gave me the first clue.  This person was a faculty member of an out-of-state university.  I located the university on my cell phone, went to the faculty page, and called the number associated with the member.  Of course, a message came through telling all that there was no getting this person until the end of a vacation period except in the case of an emergency where the number "0" would get someone to handle the emergency.  I pressed "0"; this was an emergency.

I explained what had happened to this emergency person and how I had come upon this abandoned backpack with all of its contents.  Right away, she told me how the owner of this backpack had just called her not minutes before my call, and had told her that she had just been robbed.  I gave her my phone number, hung up, and waited for the next call.  It came in an instant.

Joy and jubilation poured out at the other end of the call.  Where did I find the bag?  What was in it?  I told her everything.  She was elated.  Just less than thirty minutes had elapsed since her car had been broken into at the Legion of Honor and my call to the university.  But the most endearing question was, "Is there a journal in the backpack?  My daughter has a journal.  She's crying because the journal was in the backpack.  Can you please see if there is a journal in that backpack?"

No daughter keeps a journal except the daughter who is growing up and noticing beauty and love around her.  I figured she must be around 12 to 13 years old.  Daughters of this age write important stuff in journals along with the emotions attached to this stuff, the wishes, and the hopes and dreams surrounding the experience of this stuff.  Some of these entries can be quite private.  I know.  I still have my own journal.  I told her to hang on.  I searched the backpack, looking in every compartment, and telling her of every move I was now doing.  There was a pair of running shoes, some granola bars, a roll of Mentos, some more candy bars, but hold on, I'm not done yet.  "My daughter is crying.  We just need to know if the journal is in there.  She's been crying ever since we found out the bag had been stolen."  I opened the last compartment and reached down to the bottom.  There is was, the prized journal, in tact, dry, and unharmed.  "It's here!!  It's here!!"  I said.

The rest of our short and excited conversation was about the story and the sound of relief and gratitude.  We agreed to meet at the corner of Haight and Clayton since I was going there anyway.  I finished my business with the hardware store, got back into my car and drove off.

As I headed to our prearranged destination, I decided in the interim that I would drive passed the spot where I found the backpack, just in case there were something I missed.  In all of my excitement, I turned onto Cabrillo Street and suddenly discovered that I had turned onto the lane for incoming traffic, opposite of the lane I was supposed to have turned into!  Not only that, but right in front of the car where I was now driving next to up the road was a police car!  A close call, and thinking fast, I slowed down and cautiously swerved into the correct lane.  What was I thinking????

I managed to get to my destination at Haight and Clayton with no further mishaps and parked my car.  I grabbed the backpack with all of the precious contents and headed toward our rendezvous point.  The sidewalk corners appeared to be empty and I looked around.  Suddenly, I saw someone waving across the street.  "There's my backpack!"

Nothing feels better than to make another person's day.  It's more than a win-win situation and I felt all giddy inside as I handed over the backpack.  The young girl who had lost her journal looked at me with swollen eyes.  If there had been any money in that wallet, I thought, it was worth losing for the safe retrieval of that journal and a hugely happy beautiful smile.  Everything that had been taken from these innocent out-of-town vacationers, doing nothing more than enjoying a sunny day in our beautiful city of San Francisco, had just been returned in less than one hour of experiencing grief and anxiety over the loss of personal and financial information.  It could have been devastatingly worse in more ways than imaginable.  One of these credit cards lodged in the found wallet had not yet been activated and the sticker was still attached.  That, and the driver's license...well, one can only imagine.

Hugs and thankyous followed and then it was over.  I turned and headed down the sidewalk to find my friend Don.

After a few minutes I met up with Don, eager to tell him of my adventure.  Before I could say anything, he said, "Would you like to eat here," and pointed to a small eatery, "or would you like to eat at The Hippy Thai place?"  Without thinking, I said, "The Hippy Thai place."

Now, you may be wondering, how does this all relate to His Do-ness???

Don and me, February 12, 2017

Don is a beautiful and unusual fellow.  His one-liners are thought-provoking as well as mind-blowing.  One one-liner I keep remembering is one that he came up with -- "If you see yourself beside the point, move the f**king point."  How simple is that???

So, it was because of His Do-ness that led me on this amazing adventure, that got me to stumble upon a stolen backpack.  Don had asked me to have lunch with him on that Thursday, and I had started off toward that lunch date with a side trip down Cabrillo Street where I had stumbled upon this backpack.  Then, later, as I headed back toward Cabrillo Street, I had turned into the opposite lane into the oncoming traffic but had been spared a possible crash.  A police car had been in the opposite lane alerting me to my mistake.  Yet, this, in and of itself, was also a telling tale.  The traffic rules in Thailand are opposite the ones here in the United States.  They drive on the left side of the street, and I had turned into that left side of the street heading back up Cabrillo.  And then there was our lunch date which took place at the Hippy Thai restaurant.  I know....  You're still a little confused....


Aftermath:

Money is not the root to all happiness, but it is a means to an end; and certainly, with enough of it, brings peace of mind.  While sitting and having lunch with His Do-ness, I received a text from the backpack owner.  "Thank you so much once again.  My daughter's journal was so precious to her.  It stinks to lose my cash but all in all life is good.  We really appreciate your kindness!"  I wrote back:  "Cash can be replaced.  It's only a piece of paper with a small amount of cotton in it and has no value in and of itself.  The only thing you can do with it is to 'give' it away.  Most important are your experiences.  I'm glad your daughter got back her experiences.  Best to you.  Hope to see you sometime again in the future."

As I got back into my car after lunch, I realized that the knitted hat that I had picked up with the backpack was still in the back of my car.  I texted:  "Lol...got back into my car and saw the knitted hat.  Let, me know if you want it.  I can send it or whatever you want."  The response:  "Oh wow, the gift that keeps on giving.  :-)  My cousin and her daughter will be out in the City tomorrow, maybe their path will cross with you.  I will stay in touch.  Thanks!"

It wasn't until the following Sunday that someone came to pick up the hat.  "I can't believe we got everything back!  And not even a half hour from the time someone broke into our car!"  I saw the broken back window.  "How much money was taken, if you don't mind my asking," I asked gingerly.  "It was only $150."  She said.  "That's NOTHING!"  I stated emphatically, thinking that that's a dinner for four in most restaurants.  But for a university faculty member, it might have been different -- until now.

Don is a very magical person.  And this account just proves that one more time.  Had I not had a lunch date with His Do-ness, I would have, instead, taken the usual Geary Boulevard route to the hardware store to get the part.  I would not have stumbled upon the backpack and all might have been lost.  But because of His Do-ness's magical energy, my trip took a different route, gave back the precious connectivity to the lives to innocent people, and in the interim hinted to me what kind of restaurant we would be lunching in.  At six degrees to separation, His Do-ness brought this theory of separation to the First Degree and I was gifted with meeting a beautiful and loving family.

I still can't find myself calling my friend Don with his nickname Do.  But that doesn't change the fact that His Do-ness is a magical person as he has always been to me, and a great friend at that, always having been there through the best and worst of times.  Though he will always be Don to me, his Do-ness still is and will always be the "Do".

Heck, it was because of the Do and His Do-ness that prompted me to write this blog about the Do-ness and the Do-ingly adventure.  And how cool is that???  :-)

And no doubt, a young girl, who has been reunited with her journal, is writing the amazing stuff about the same kind of adventure....

....and it just might be the next best seller!!

Epilogue.......

I received this card last week with a gift of caramels wrapped in a really nice cloth.  Thank you.  I'm just glad everything I found in the gutter got back to its proper home.  :-)