I suppose you all think this is a blog about writing heros and villains, about the struggle for good to triumph over evil, fairies against warlocks, or the living vs. the undead. And in a way, it is. Sometimes the protagonist/hero we write is not a sword-swinging, swashbuckling, caped crusader, cutting a pink "Z" into the blue fabric of sunset. Sometimes our hero is a quiet, well-mannered, gentleman, whose good deeds go unrecognized by the heroine, until the very end.
Somewhere out there, in Vancouver, is a quiet, unsung hero. No one will ever thank her/him for the good deed. She/he won't be asked to join a talk-show host, or have a reality television show, or make the "good deeds" minute on the local news. But I like to think the cosmic universe will extend a benevolent hand to that person, just the same.
It is such a simple thing, and yet so powerful. It matters. It mattered in 1805, during the time- frame I write. It matters now. I hope it will continue to matter in the future.
A co-worker lost her wallet in Vancouver. She inquired at a grocery store, remembering she'd had it there two days earlier. It had been turned in. We all speculated. Would everything be in it when she got it back? We asked her to let us know, not because of idle curiosity, but because we all wanted our faith in humanity to be validated.
After lunch, she returned to our cubical city, clutching her wallet and beaming. "It's all there," she said. "Everything. There was even $80 in it. I didn't even remember having $80."
Several of us let out a gush of relief and smiled. There are still good people out there. Honorable people. I wonder if our hero added the $80? Maybe she/he opened it and thought, "Wow, this woman is poor," and slipped in a couple of extra twenties. Or maybe I just think of someone with honor as being the kind of person who'd so such a thing. Just like a good super hero.