“Take two, take as much as you want. Take the apples, take the oranges. Do you want any rugelachs? Take more. Here’s a slice of jelly roll,” Robin, the kitchen worker at the Holliswood Senior Center, offered. She was anxious to move all the goodies from Sunday’s catered affair and we seniors arriving on Monday were happy to oblige. Our two-dollar lunch would soon be served, so I just kept packing my Channel 13 tote bag. I’d also be adding half my lunch because it’s always too much to consume. Most often there are extra containers of milk, so I’d also be including at least two small milks. My tote bag grew, both in size and weight.
After lunch, the activity was Duplicate Bridge. We played at the back of the large room while a young janitor swept the dining area and rearranged the chairs and tables. We left our possessions here where we originally ate. Sitting on the chair with my coat and scarf surrounding it, my fully packed tote looked like a ninth month pregnant woman.
When the bridge game was over at 3:30, everyone rushed to pick up their totes and coats. Access-A-Ride would be waiting outside for most seniors. I drive so there was no sense of urgency; I was probably the last person to leave. I went back to the dining area where my possessions were left and while my coat and scarf were where I left them, my tote bag was gone. Gone with the apples, oranges, cake, milk, half my lunch, two decks of bridge cards and two of my favorite Audrey Grant bridge books; certainly, of no major value to anyone. My tote bag was gone. STOLEN!!!! A sense of hurt came over me and I felt violated. This senior center always felt safe, like a sanctuary. Now I would have to be cautious about leaving my possessions unattended. My feeling of good will were painfully altered.
Whoever stole my bag would certainly be disappointed, and possibly even toss it away. So early the next morning my husband and I came to the center and searched all the trash bins which contained the previous day’s garbage to no avail, no discarded Channel 13 tote bag. I made an announcement to the seniors and frequently spoke of my loss.
Fast forward to a month later. I was a bit late arriving at the center on the Monday following Thanksgiving. Our lunch table was already occupied by our usual dining group. Sylvia looked a bit dour and softly said, “Ethyl, Mel has a gift for you.” Surprised, I say, “A gift? It’s too late for my April birthday and too early for Hannukah.” Mel, Sylvia’s significant other, produced a Channel 13 tote bag. My thoughts were it is very kind of him to contribute to Channel 13 WNET. “Why are you giving me your contribution gift?” I questioned. “It’s yours,” Mel humbly proclaims and goes on, “I’m mortified and embarrassed to explain the sequence of events that transpired. I thought the bag was Sylvia’s. Seeing how full and heavy it was, I picked it up and brought it to my car. Sylvia assumed I was carrying my own bag, and never questioned the issue. I placed it on the floor of the back seats of my car. No one ever sits back there, so no one was even aware of its existence. When we needed the back seats to transport our relatives to Sylvia’s son’s Thanksgiving dinner, we realized this was the bag you had been missing.” The bag sat there for one month, the milk turning sour, the food turning moldy.
The return of my tote bag was welcomed, but the biggest gift was the return of my feeling of good will, safety and security my senior center affords. Yes, I can leave my possessions unattended now that the unsavory mystery was solved.
