A Lost & Found Christmas Story

Last Christmas I shared a story about Jonathan Walker who re-united me with a diary he found on the streets of NYC over 25 years ago. (I have no idea how I lost it or why I had been carrying it around with me!) As a much younger man he had unmindfully tossed it into his closet only to come across it decades later when he was purging his apartment during Covid. In an internet friendly world, he found me via Facebook (my full name was on the first page of the diary) and he reached out. 

A few weeks later he put the book back in my hands on a snowy street near Columbus Circle. I spent many nostalgic nights flipping through the pages and re-living a teenage year of my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about the serendipity of it all. I was so grateful.

This Christmas I had the opportunity to experience the other side of a lost and found. There wasn’t as much time in between the losing and the finding but the details are quite delightful. 

What happened was…I was jogging on a Lauren Canyon hiking trail and as I neared the end of my trot I saw something glimmering in the dirt. I tilted my head. Could it be a candy wrapper? A dog tag? As I got closer I rubbed it with the toe of my sneaker and realized it was neither. I picked it up and dusted it off. It was an opal pendant embedded in gold. Not a small one, at that. 

Was it real? It felt heavier than fake. I turned it over in search of that tiny 14k stamp that gives gold its authenticity. The smudged digits were undecipherable. Eroded from age? The rubbing on skin? But it’s value didn’t matter so much as the idea that someone somewhere was likely beside themselves because it had fallen off their neck. 

In the past when I’ve found things on that trail I’ve left them in a findable place. I might hang a key from a tree branch with some twine. Leave a glove or a pair of sunglasses on a bench. You know. But I couldn’t leave that pendant just anywhere. Chances are it would be snatched up in minutes. 

So I took it home. And stared at it. 

Then I printed out a sign with my cell number (at the risk of making myself a target for nudniks and spammers) and a message: “Lost something? Text me and describe it.” 

I went back down to the trail and posted it in an obvious spot. Even though it felt kind of fruitless. If they had already returned to the scene-of-the-loss before I posted the sign they’d never see it. But it was worth a shot. How could I not? 

I went home. Took a shower. No text. Made dinner. Did the dishes. No text. Brushed my teeth. Went to sleep. No text. Nothing in the morning either. Maybe it was just a trinket. A prize from a carnival game that nobody cared that much about. Oh well. I tried. 

The next day, as I was recording vocals for the Musical I’m working on 😬 pretty much having forgotten all about the homeless pendant, my phone lit up. Unrecognizable number. A political campaign perhaps? A robocall for an energy saving scheme? 

I kept singing. 

3 text bubbles in a row.

“Hi.”

“Did you find an opal necklace?”

“I’ve been looking for it everywhere!”

OMG and Yay. 

 I felt like a hero. 

Then, to prove it belonged to her, “Jasmine” texted a picture of herself wearing it. I expanded the image. That’s it. Amazing. And of course I made note that she was a musician. Not that it makes a many difference but…cool! I happen to like musicians. :) 

We arranged to meet later that day, at the foot of the trail. She didn’t know my name but when she came out of her car and saw someone who looked like they were looking for someone (me!) she approached. 

“Jasmine?”

“Yes!”

I held out her pendant. 

“OMG. I can’t believe it. I came back to post my own sign and then I saw yours. I wear it all the time. I don’t know how it fell off.” She was beyond thankful, excited, with renewed faith in humanity just like I was last year when my long lost diary was returned. 

Then she looked at me quizzically, eyes narrowing like something clicked and she asked me what my name was. 

“Shelly.” 

And she asked “Shelly Peiken?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Well we’re both musicians and I get around this town so not unimaginable that I’d be recognized. But it went further. She said “OMG,” (again) “You were a judge in a songwriting competition I entered and … you picked my song!” 

Now that’s crazy. 

We kept nodding our heads ‘no’ at the improbability of it all.

We want to believe there’s a reason for things — and that reasons will reveal themselves in due time because the alternative, sheer coincidence, is not as enchanting. Hidden reasons, magical thinking and little miracles are so much more fun! Especially at Christmas. 

Jasmine reached into her purse to offer me some money. Ummm, no. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Ummm, yes.”

She was young. I would hope that when we get older we trust that a reward is not the reason we return things. I mean, sure there are people who would take some cash. Maybe I would have if I were 16. Or broke. But at some point in life I like to think we cross the Rubicon. The returning is the reward. 

Paying it forward you might say? Neh. That would imply it’s transactional. The joy of reuniting a lost item with its fretful owner —the look on their face — should be enough.  

In any event it was a good day for both of us though I’m not exactly sure for whom it was better. I mean, I can’t decide which I like more: the getting something back or the returning? The after-feels of both are pretty amazing. 

May you return all that is lost and may all you’ve lost be found. 

Happy Christmas Everyone! 

See you next year. 💚🎄❤️

PS: Here’s a holiday song from Jasmine. And Jasmine! TAKE OFF YOUR VALUABLES WHEN YOU RUN, GIRL!

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