During a recent three-hour layover in the SeaTac Airport, my wallet disappeared from my purse which, of course, hijacked my identity, credit, and cash for the California visit planned.
In a panic, I was guided all over that airport by a gracious security officer, checking every place I had wandered. With 10 minutes until takeoff, we ran to the Lost and Found for a last-ditch grasp at a miracle of human spirit.
A SeaTac employee named “Brian” (sp?) had turned my material life completely intact. The clerks didn’t record his last name. I boarded with only minutes to spare.
Since then, during the process to find this man to give him his reward, I’ve tried to picture him. He could be any race, any religion (or none), perhaps a smoker, 18 or 70 years old. He may have heard that I’m looking for him and really doesn’t care about the money I’d like to give him. Because, inside, he knows his reward is intrinsic; he’s an honorable man.
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Here’s to the “Brians” of the world. They are out there, you know, and they just might be the real “silent majority.”
Kimberly Jensen Pueschner