It all started Sunday afternoon.
I went to an antique shop that is rarely open in my
town. The place was open and I was looking for more
classic campaign pins for my jacket (I already have
found a LBJ, Nixon and a Roosevelt).
I didn’t find any, most of the stuff was old dishware
and little things which I had little if any interest
in.
Then I found a table strewn with notes and scraps of
paper. Some were bundled in stacks of 5 or 10 but most
were all over.
There were some letters from a WWII vet to his wife
who lived in my town at the time. I bought some
because of their historical signifigance and went home
to read them with fellow doper Palve. They were
pretty interesting, we found from the letters that the
guy was married just before Pearl Harbor was attacked,
he was stationed in Africa and also for a time was in
New York City and he wanted to go to Rome.
There was one letter that was different from the
rest. It was from her to him, the only one in the
stack, And it was unopened.
It was sent to New York, 6 cents postage (two 3 cent
stamps) on March 8th 1945. He must have been there for
a time after he was sent back after the war.
I looked at the name and return address, I had never
heard of the name but I thought I’d take a look for it
on the net. Maybe they had a son or something who
might still live in the area.
I looked them up and ended up with an exact match on
his name in my town. Must’ve been a son, I thought.
I was wrong. I called the number and got the woman who
wrote that unopened letter 57 years ago. She was
surprised to hear from some 17 year old kid who said
he had some mail of theirs.
So today Palve and I went to the place where the
couple lives now and delivered their mail.
They were so happy, they told me so much about their
lives and how the war affected them. He showed me a
picture of himself which was sent home in one of the
letters which I had returned.
They had the letters years before in a duffel bag
which he had while he was overseas. In the mid 60’s
their appartment was broken into, and among many other
things the duffel was stolen. Years later the letters
showed up at some garage sale, then into another
attic, then to the antique store.
About a quarter of the letters and other things had
already been bought, but I returned to the store after
my meeting with the couple this morning and bought
everything else on the table. After looking through
some of it I realized all of the 500 or more items
there were all from this couple. I just bought
everything then gave it to the couple.
Among the items were: more than 30 letters from him to
her, a letter from her to him (unopened), letters from
faimily and friends to her throughout the war, lists
showing how much daily expenses cost (coke, 6 cents,
eggs, 8 cents a dozen), his chouffer license, her old
safe deposit booklet, a menu/program for a dinner
which he attended in Italy (he really loved that,
mentioned many of his good friends), a small mirror
from the place where she had worked at the time of the
war, many newspaper clippings (some of which announced
marrages of her sisters, friends and also some
articles about Africa and the war), business cards of
his from before he left for the war, many christmas
cards from the time of the war, postcards… the list
just went on and on.
And he said he did finally make it to Rome.
Some people believe in the “Rule of Three” which says that whatever you do will be returned to you threefold. Dude, I think you just racked up some major points.
It’s not like I bought the letters to return them to the couple. When I bought them that really didn’t cross my mind, I just kinda assumed that they had passed away, or if not then they were certanly not in the area.
Just went on a hunch that afternoon and it worked out.
Let me chime in tho the “way cool” sentiment. It would be very interesting to keep in touch and hear their stories first hand. You did a very nice thing clayton_e, whether or not you intended to makes no difference.
Write it up, pretty much the way you did it here. Send it to your local newspaper. If they don’t publish it, or at least offer to write it up as an article (then they are idiots) try a larger newspaper.
When you start applying to colleges you have your essay ready and waiting.
And a big deposit in the Bank of Gookd Karma, by the way.
Dude, do you know how much this probably means to them, their lives? Your few bucks to purchase this stuff brings back more than years to their younger times.
I’ve been thinking about this. Let’s say you do get a newspaper to write about it. What might happen? Maybe someone will read it who can have an influence on your life. Maybe when you go out into the job market, the interviewer will ask, “What is the most selfless thing you’ve done in your life?” You tell him that you spent a few bucks on some old letters and helped an elderly couple to recapture faded memories of their youth. “They even wrote an article about it,” you say. It turns out that the interviewer read the article and remembered it. He hires you on the spot.
Maybe the old couple remember you in their wills.
Maybe the old soldier’s surviving comrades hear about your deed and renew acquaintances with their old friends. Your few dollars spent has now touched more people. Maybe other people read of your example and do the same thing, bringing tears of joy to many others – and their families. Maybe if people hear what you did, they’ll be closer to their parents and grandparents.
Maybe you’ve been wondering what you will do with your life, and this episode inspires you to helping others.
Maybe you’ll reap absolutely no material reward whatsoever. Nor should you expect any, as an act of kindness should be done for its own sake. But you’ve already received a reward, haven’t you? You’ve felt the deep gratitude of a pair of strangers. You have the knowledge that you’ve made someone happy. You’ve felt the warm feeling that is the reward for being a nice guy. You’ve received kudos from the people on this board.
May your troubles be less,
Your blessings be more,
And nothing but happiness
Come through your door.
– Irish Blessing
