Happy End

Popular lore has it that when Napoleon was deciding to appoint a new general he never asked whether the man had courage or good strategic sense, “Just tell me if he has luck”.

Here are three stories with happy endings -not without some luck too- a breath of optimism in the sad times of the pandemic when things seem to go from bad to worse every day.

I was whizzing about New York trying to put together a business model that would enable me to live in Manhattan and multiply the tidy sum I had made working in Geneva – which instead I rapidly proceeded to lose along with my shirt; but that’s a story for another day.

My former partner, a highly seductive woman with impeccable taste and an explosive temper, had given me a beautiful Hermès leather agenda. Being new to the rarefied world of luxury goods F. made sure to point out the value of the gift by telling me never to expect anything else from her. “Not Christmas not your birthday, this is a gift of a lifetime”.

In those pre cell times I carried my whole life and all the info needed to launch my new business inside its gilded-edged pages. Alighting in a hurry from a taxi I left it behind. I lost everything, except for the sinking feeling of drowning. Twenty minutes passed, an eternity if you ask me and the bell rang. A kind soul had found the agenda on the back seat and the taxi driver, a kinder soul if possible, turned around and came back to return it. I felt like hugging him, opted by offering 20 bucks which he promptly refused.

This is not all.

Sometime later I left it in a taxi, again. Only this time no Good Samaritan came forward. Upon advice I went to the "Lost and Found! in Lower Manhattan and there among millions of orphaned gloves, keys and umbrellas was my agenda.

Old-fashioned and creased and now also useless, it is still with me today.

I got robbed in BA. I chased the thief four blocks –I could see my lovely bag hanging from his fist- him on sneakers, me on high heels, pretty ridiculous. I lost my credit cards, easily replaced but also all my ID documents, including my brand-new hard-to-get Argentine resident permit. The mere thought of going through the grueling, time-consuming and wasteful Argentinian red-tape system again filled my heart with horror.

Next day I get a call form a charitable institution where I had just made a small contribution saying they got a call from a street sweeper who found a wallet and inside it a receipt with my name and their phone number: the only connection between me and my papers. The guy name was Fernando and his next shift was in a tough part of town.

There we went, my long-suffering husband and me, the taxi driver wondering what we fine people where doing in those slums, probably buying drugs. We asked around. Everybody seemed to know Fernando.

Finally at the end of a littered street he recognized us -we certainly stood out- and broke into an ear-to-ear unforgetable toothless grin. Handed me the wallet with everything inside except the cash; did not accept money either.

Last Sunday a friend caught in the Lima weekend lockdown was waiting for her daughter, young granddaughter and son-in-law all cycling and bringing broiled chicken for lunch. Upon arriving the daughter realizes she’s lost her cell phone. She starts crying inconsolably, the granddaughter follows suit and starts crying too; the savvy granny decides to take action and turns on the tracking device app on her phone.

“The phone is at the chicken place!” she reports to the son-in-law. “Quick! Get on the bike!” The guy pedals furiously, while granny navigates the system, “The phone is moving! It’s going left on the side street!” Guy is good at following instructions. “Now it’s going down the avenue! I can see it! It’s on the move again!” He dutifully executes. Gets to the avenue and reports that there is no one in sight. “The whole avenue is empty except for two municipal sweepers”. Granny checks the app again, the cell in no longer moving. “Go ask the sweepers” she commands.

The young man approaches with caution, and very good manners, and politely asks if they have seen a phone. Sweeper Numero Uno says no, Sweeper Numero Dos says nothing. Techie-granny doesn’t give up and calls the number. Lo and behold! To the amazement of all three the cellphone rings inside the trash cart. Sweeper Two peevishly brings it out and hands it to the son-in-law a move which automatically stops the water works back home.

Granny smiles wisely. Kids may download more apps but nothing beats living.