Dearlenbaugh, reading your account of the gift you received from a fellow you never saw before and never would again reminded me of something.


Many, many years ago, when I was a junior officer on my second ship, things weren't going very well. I was having a rough time of it. One day, I just had to get off the ship and let some fresh air into my skull, so I went out to lunch. I pulled into the nearest restaurant that looked decent. I was still in the foulest of moods.


I parked, got out of my car, and approached the front door. By happenstance, a woman had also parked her car near-by and was nearing the door at the same time I was. She looked to be around my age, attractive in a soccer-mom fashion, and from her attire, a businesswoman of some sort. Not that I was of any mind to care, at the moment.


We got to the door at the same time, and I wasn't in such a funk that I forgot my manners. I opened the door and stood aside for her.


She flashed a smile at me and said "Thank you." That was it. There was no hidden message behind it; no ulterior meaning. She simply appreciated the gesture.


But that was the thing that struck me. It was one of those thousand-watt smiles that said she sincerely appreciated a small kindness that one stranger did for another.


Maybe it doesn't make much sense to you guys, but that simple three-second exchange lightened my mood tremendously. It was a tiny bit of warmth after several weeks of slaps in the face. It was genuine and, no doubt a natural part of her personality, so much so that she probably never gave it a second thought a moment after she did it. But I sure thought about it. I found that the dark clouds had been swept away and my life wasn't as lousy at it had felt ten minutes earlier.


I was shown to my table and went through the usual rituals of restaurant dining---"Hi, I'm so-and-so, your waitress", menu, drink order. I ordered my lunch and while I waited, I looked around the restaurant, and saw the woman who had smiled at me. Her table was on the opposite side of the house, and she was also dining alone.


When So-and-So, My Waitress, brought my food, I motioned her closer and indicated the woman at the far table. "Put her meal on my bill," I told the waitress, "but do not tell her I paid for it. Don't even mention that it was another customer who did it."


That was vital. This wasn't a pick-up, or a gimmick to meet her. I simply wanted to repay her for her kind gesture, and for her to know it came from me would taint it.


The waitress smiled and said O.K. "But what do I tell her if she asks why?"


"As long as you don't tell her it came from me," I instructed, "I don't care what you tell her."


By the time I had finished eating, I was pressed for time. I had to get back to the ship. So I never saw the woman's reaction to learning her meal had been paid for. I simply paid both bills, left a good-sized tip for the waitress, and walked out---feeling a thousand times better than when I had come in. (I'd like to think that, from time to time, she still tells that story of having her lunch mysteriously paid for. But she's probably forgotten all about it.)


The point of the story, my friend, is---buying you that cane, for no other reason than to do something nice for someone, probably made that old man feel as good as you felt getting it. But then, you're probably already ahead of me, there.