A Valentine Story
As I walked home one freezing day,
I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in
the street. I picked it up and looked inside
to find some identification so I
could call the owner. But the wallet
contained only three dollars and a
crumpled letter that looked as if
it had been in there for years.The envelope was worn and the only thing that
was legible on it was the return
address. I started to open the letter,
hoping to find some clue. Then I saw
the dateline--1924. The letter had been written
almost sixty years ago.It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting
on powder blue stationery
with a little flower in the left-hand corner.
It was a "Dear John" letter that
told the recipient, whose name appeared to be
Michael, that the writer could
not see him any more because her mother forbade i
t. Even so, she wrote that
she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah.It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way,
except for the name Michael,
that the owner could be identified.
Maybe if I called information, the
operator could find a phone listing for the address
on the envelope."Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request.
I'm trying to find the owner
of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell
me if there is a phone
number for an address that was on an envelope i
n the wallet?"She suggested I speak with her supervisor,
who hesitated for a moment then
said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address,
but I can't give you
the number." She said, as a courtesy,
she would call that number, explain my
story and would ask them if they wanted her
to connect me. I waited a few
minutes and then she was back on the line.
"I have a party who will speak with
you."I asked the woman on the other end of the line
if she knew anyone by the name
of Hannah. She gasped,
"Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a
daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!""Would you know where that family could be
located now?" I asked."I remember that Hannah had to place her mother
in a nursing home some years
ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch
with them they might be able
to track down the daughter."She gave me the name of the nursing home
and I called the number. They told me
the old lady had passed away some years ago
but they did have a phone number
for where they thought the daughter might be living.I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered
explained that Hannah
herself was now living in a nursing home.This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself.
Why was I making such a big
deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had
only three dollars and a
letter that was almost 60 years old?Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which
Hannah was supposed to be
living and the man who answered the phone told me,
"Yes, Hannah is staying with us. "Even though it was already 10 p.m.,
I asked if I could come by to see her.
"Well," he said hesitatingly,
"if you want to take a chance, she might be in
the day room watching television."I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home.
The night nurse and a guard
greeted me at the door. We went up to the
third floor of the large building.
In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.
She was a sweet, silver-
haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle
in her eye.I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter.
The second she
saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower
on the left, she took a deep breath and said,
"Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had
with Michael."She looked away for a moment deep in thought
and then said softly, "I loved
him very much. But I was only 16 at the time
and my mother felt I was too
young. Oh, he was so handsome.
He looked like Sean Connery, the actor.""Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was
a wonderful person. If you should
find him, tell him I think of him often.
And," she hesitated for a moment,
almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know,"
she said smiling
as tears began to well up in her eyes,
"I never did marry. I guess no one ever
matched up to Michael. . ."I thanked Hannah and said goodbye.
I took the elevator to the first floor and
as I stood by the door, the guard there asked,
"Was the old lady able to help you?"I told him she had given me a lead.
"At least I have a last name. But I think
I'll let it go for a while.
I spent almost the whole day trying to find the
owner of this wallet."I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple
brown leather case with red
lacing on the side. When the guard saw it,
he said, "Hey, wait a minute!
That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere
with that bright red
lacing. He's always losing that wallet.
I must have found it in the halls at
least three times.""Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake.
"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor.
That's Mike Goldstein's wallet
for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks."I thanked the guard and quickly ran back
to the nurse's office. I told her
what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator
and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said,
"I think he's still in the day
room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."We went to the only room that had any lights on
and there was a man reading a
book. The nurse went over to him and asked
if he had lost his wallet. Mr.
Goldstein looked up with surprise,
put his hand in his back pocket and said,
"Oh, it is missing!""This kind gentleman found a wallet
and we wondered if it could be yours?"I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second
he saw it, he smiled with
relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped
out of my pocket this
afternoon. I want to give you a reward.""No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something.
I read the letter
in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."The smile on his face suddenly disappeared.
"You read that letter?""Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is."
He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is?
How is she? Is she
still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,"
he begged."She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her."
I said softly.The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "
Could you tell me where she
is? I want to call her tomorrow."
He grabbed my hand and said, "You know
something, mister, I was so in love with that girl
that when that letter came,
my life literally ended. I never married.
I guess I've always loved her. ""Michael," I said, "Come with me."
We took the elevator down to the third floor.
The hallways were darkened and
only one or two little night-lights lit our way
to the day room where Hannah
was sitting alone watching the television.
The nurse walked over to her."Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael,
who was waiting with me in the
doorway. "Do you know this man?"She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment,
but didn't say a word. Michael
said softly, almost in a whisper,
"Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?"She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael!
It's you! My Michael!" He
walked slowly towards her and they embraced.
The nurse and I left with tears
streaming down our faces."See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works!
If it's meant to be, it will be."About three weeks later I got a call at my office
from the nursing home. "Can
you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding?
Michael and Hannah are going to
tie the knot!"It was a beautiful wedding with all the people
at the nursing home dressed up
to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress
and looked
beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit
and stood tall. They made me their
best man.The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever
wanted to see a 76-year-
old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers,
you had to see this couple.A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.
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