Not about me at all. Three circles in a very familiar logo.
Again, today isn’t about me. Let’s consider three different meanings for the circles:
- ACCEPTANCE: Being open to do any kind act at any time.
- MORALITY: Doing the right thing when called upon by a moment.
- GRATEFULNESS: Accepting an outcome, but expecting none.
The other day I found a packet of insurance papers / registration cards resting comfortably on the sidewalk outside a local restaurant. It was immediately obvious this fell out of a car previously parked in the space I just – not so graciously – nudged a fresh set of tire marks on the curb. No harm done. I must humbly say if there existed annual awards for parallel parking, I’d have many dinners in my honor. That day, however, was a beautiful, sunny, seasonably-off, distractable-weatherish confundery, so I can be excused for not paying as much attention as necessary. Skid marks and a few mph’s extra aside, the cutting in and angle was only a degree or two off, anyway, and the back tire of my inexhaustable Honda spend only mere seconds atop an already cracked curb. So, again, no harm done … except to maybe my ego.
The packet I saw almost immediately, face up, slightly soiled, as if to say, “I’ve been through something, but not here”. Names, address, policy number, … all the pertinent information I’m quite sure the owner didn’t want to be in the hands of a stranger – who I was at the time. Fortunately, the sticker – with three circles in a very familiar logo – had above them a name. An agency owner. A friend. A wonderful coincidence.
A chance for the owners to take a deep breath they didn’t know they could take at the time – IF they even knew this packet was missing. I knew it was, but couldn’t really do anything about it at the time being a weekend with my friend’s agency closed at the time. My purpose for being in town, anyway, wasn’t to claim a lost insurance packet runaway. I wanted a three-egg veggie omelet and iced-tea from the black-and-white awning cafe on the corner 1/2 block down … where folks were already gathered around heavy black iron tables enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. Umbrellas up, kids laughing, brunch plates full, piled high with fruit, toasts-a-plenty, veggies and bacon club sandwiches as I made my way down the sidewalk.
Passing through those enjoying the company of their soon to be full friends, I settled into one of the back smaller tables for two, by myself, under a flat screen t.v. infrequently watched. This cafe, one seldom visited for common everyday, mundane news, finds itself a home for those less interested in national chatter. Personal stories and local heart warming trends trump all the international intrigue caught in the net of vanilla noise. It was the perfect place to sit, order a healthy omelet with only two out of three yokes, and slightly pat the packet I slipped in my left breast checkered sport coat pocket. “What to do until Monday?” I whispered under my breath as the couple very near at the table to my right quizzing looked over. “Oh,”, I leaned over, “I have a small decision to make … I have plenty to DO. I wasn’t trying to figure out my time until Monday.”. They had no response. Thinking back, that may have been twenty-three more words than necessary. My answer back to myself, eventually was … nothing. Do nothing.
And that’s what I did.
Today I stopped in to my friend’s agency and turned over the packet. This was after taking a few minutes yesterday searching through Facebook for the folks. Thinking maybe I could find them – address being only a few towns over – and then send the packet in the mail? Or, call them. Pretty much all the options were on the table, except the obvious one I already agreed upon with myself previously, alone, in a wonderful cafe. Relaxed and in control.
That’s the story. Nothing different from yours, perhaps. Except, maybe the tire marks. Well, c’mon now. Different time and place, but I KNOW you have done it, so fess up.
It is all the little stories like this, throughout our lives, that make a difference. Thankful, in a way, Mr and Mrs Anonymous parked in that space and left just in time for me to find it. I’m forever indebted to the invisible hands that lifted a slightly soiled packet out of their car and placed it comfortably on the sidewalk. Pleased I found, kept, and returned it.
Maybe still a stranger to my new friends a few towns away, but never to Acceptance, Morality, and Gratefulness. The three circles in a vary familiar logo that is our life. I saw them last week and had time to hold them in my hand for a few days.
Reminded that we should be open for moments to do the right thing, expecting nothing in return. Except it is never nothing. We always do get something back. I walked out of my friend’s agency feeling good. There was never a second thought of mis-using the information I had in my hands. That’s not how I roll. When her secretary told me they’d take care of it, a sense of completeness and “You did a good thing, my man” took over my day and will remain in the bucket of hours until the midnight of the clock spills into another day.
Again, today isn’t about me. It’s about three circles. Yes, small things. Feel goods. Good deeds, indeed, for all of us when we can.