I'm walking through the parking lot and I notice a yellow envelope (you know the kind that the Fed sends you checks in) on the ground, with a receipt sticking out of it...no really, it was an actual Federal-check-sending-envelope.
Something in the back of my mind tells me to "pick it up." And since the back of my mind is where I do most of my thinking (nothing is EVER in the forefront of my mind...no really, it isn't), I pick up the envelope and peer inside.
You guessed it. Cash. Moola. Estados Unidos dinero. Greenbacks. The good stuff. No really, the good stuff and plenty of it.
In addition to the cash, there is a receipt for $125 worth of groceries AND...there is a partial letter.
The letter had what I believe to be the envelope owners name on it, but no address, phone number, or other identifying information I could use to track this person down.
To the local phone book my fingers went a walkin'.
No one by that name in any of the local exchanges. He wasn't local. No really, he wasn't listed.
To the internet my eyeballs went a ballin'
Google found one hit for him, as a lost alum of a Fraternity at the University of Illinois at Carbondale. Really doubtful this is my guy. Really doubful.
Last night, after showing my wife and daughters what I had found, I seized the opportunity to teach my girls a lesson on "the right thing to do." I called the father of one of C's playmates who happens to be the local Police Chief, no really, he's the top cop in our town.
I told him what was what, and he told me to drop by the station tomorrow and he can help me track down the owner.
Case closed, at least from my end.
So,now that you've read this, you want to know how much money was in the envelope, don't you? No really, you do want to know, don't you.
Well, let's just say it wasn't enough to change our lives, but when it is returned to the rightful owner, it will most certainly make his day.