A Little Lesson in Love and Kindness

72-year-old George Wright, was the kind of soul I'm sure we all aspire to become. He was kind, and thoughtful. Loving and devoted. He gave his all in everything, and he never gave up.

The city of Toronto Ontario, was lucky to have George. Every day at 7:45 a.m. George dutifully left his house to begin his day—lovingly tending to the four city blocks nearest his home.

In summer he swept the walks, picked up litter, and tended to the flower pots. In winter, he would pick up that same steady stream of litter, or shovel snow.

It was a frosty morning in December of 2009, and George was shoveling snow on the busiest corner of his route. Suddenly a young man hurried by, brushing into George, almost knocking him to the ground. As he recovered his balance, George noticed the young man had dropped a small black book.

"Hey!" George called out as he picked up the book and shuffled after the man. "You dropped your book!"

The young man didn't even turn all the way around or slow down as he yelled over his shoulder: "Not now beggar, ask someone else!"

George felt his shoulders slump a little at the careless assumption that he was a pesky beggar, asking for money.

With a shrug, George examined the book that had been so carelessly left at his disposal. The luxurious leather-wrap cover looked hand stitched, and long leather ties were secured in an eloquent knot in the front. The first page was an obvious list of groceries. The second page was half filled with random words, scrawled in almost sloppy handwriting. The rest of the pages remained blank.

"Well I guess he didn't really need that notebook very much after all." George muttered to himself.

10 years drifted by, and George forgot all about the little leather book; it's cover collecting dust where it sat atop his refrigerator.

It was a balmy morning in mid-July as George shuffled out of his doorway; his 82-year-old body moving a little slower than it used to. As he swept a pile of dirt toward the edge of the walk, two young men—engrossed in their phones—blindly brushed past George, and didn't even turn to offer an apology when he lost his balance and dropped his broom.

"I'm so sorry sir!" George turned to see a young woman stooping to pick up his broom.

"People can be so rude, are you alright?" She asked apologetically.

George still looked a little shaken, but he smiled brightly at the friendly face of the woman in-front of him. "Oh I'm okay." He responded.

"I'm Jenna Fontaine." The woman said cheerfully as she extended a hand to George.

"I'm George Wright. Thank you for your kindness."

Jenna spoke with George for some time, learning all about his work for the community, and how he lived alone, just up the street since his wife passed from cancer 15 years earlier.

"Mr. Wright, would you like to have dinner with my family sometime?" Jenna asked.

George’s face lit up. "I haven't been invited to dinner anywhere since my wife died. I would love that!" The sparkle in the old man's eyes ignited a warm feeling in Jenna's heart.

The very next Sunday, as the clock struck 5:00 p.m. the doorbell rang. Jenna hurried to the door, and welcomed George into their home. She introduced him to her husband, Derrick—who smiled as he shook hands—and then introduced their two children, 6-year-old Jayden, and 4-year-old Stella.

Conversation flowed easily with the kind old gentleman; and the Fontaine children became instant fans of George's many magic tricks.

"He's such a kind man." Jenna remarked to Derrick that evening, as she ran a comb through her hair, staring thoughtfully into the large mirror that hung over an old oak dresser in their bedroom.

Derrick nodded in agreement. "He is." His expression turned soft as he added: "He seems so lonely—we should have him over again soon."

The Fontaine family formed a fast—almost grandfatherly—bond with George Wright, and they soon saw each other on a weekly basis. The children even asked if they could call him "grandpa".

One cold day in December, Jenna picked up her phone, and dialed George's number. She smiled while envisioning his twinkling eyes as she invited him to Christmas dinner. Her smile slowly faded into concern as the seventh ring chorused in her ear. George always picked up on the third or fourth ring. Jenna hung up the phone with a frown, then quickly went upstairs to suggest Derrick go check on George.

Derrick arrived at George's house and knocked on the door. No one answered.

After knocking at some neighboring houses, Derrick found out someone had seen an ambulance at George’s house that morning.

Following a few short phone calls, Derrick was able to locate George at a nearby hospital. He had fallen on the ice outside his house that morning, breaking his left hip.

The Fontaine family clambered into their SUV and were off to see George. They visited for a while, and then headed home. On the way out, Dr. McCleran stopped them—informing them of the seriousness of George's injuries, and that he would need to be moved into a care home immediately.

Derrick and Jenna exchanged worried looks, knowing too well how crushing that news would be to their independent and willful old friend.

Stella broke the silence: "Why can't Grandpa live with us?" Her wide eyes sparkled eagerly.

Derrick looked at Jenna, and their eyes locked—then a smile began tugging at both their mouths. Jenna knelt in-front of her daughter. "I think that would be a lovely idea!"

The Fontaine's spoke gently with George about the seriousness of his injuries, and the doctor's recommendations of moving under someone else's care. George was reluctant—adamant he would prove too much of a hassle for them.

Jenna—who worked from home—gradually broke down George's apprehension with steady reassurance that she would love his bright presence in their home.

The day George was released from the hospital, Derrick and Jenna took him to his home, and began helping him pack up and clean. Jenna carefully positioned George's wheelchair by his refrigerator so he could direct her in cleaning it out. As she finished up, her eyes caught sight of the little black book on top of the refrigerator.

"Oh would you like to bring this notebook along?" Jenna queried as she retrieved it.

"I remember this book." George said. "Some young punk almost knocked me over on the sidewalk many years ago, and he dropped this book at the same time. I tried to wave him down and give it back." He shrugged as he continued: "But he called me a beggar and rushed off without it."

Jenna looked surprised. "Oh that was rude of him—people get so caught up in themselves." She said with a shake of her head.

George turned the notebook over in his hands. "You love to write, Jenna." He held the notebook out toward her. "Why don't you have this notebook, you'd just have to tear out the first two pages of rubbish."

"Oh I would love that!" Jenna exclaimed. "I love all notebooks, and this one is beautiful!"

That night Jenna sat down cross-legged on the king sized bed in their dimly lit bedroom—and opened the leather notebook.

Derrick entered the room. "What are you so intrigued with there?" He asked quizzically.

"Oh just this notebook George gave me today.” Jenna smiled. “Someone dropped it when they ran into him." Jenna pointed at the page with the random words written on it, and continued: "This page just puzzles me so. These are the most random words I've ever seen! Snow. Corn. Noodle. Chair. Ladder. Sun..."

Derrick sat down beside Jenna. His expression was blank at first, but then wide-eyed. "Babe! These words look as random as the keys to my Crypto wallet!"

Jenna looked confused. "Your what?"

"My Crypto wallet! You know, Bitcoin?" Derrick was visibly excited.

"Umm, I've heard of Bitcoin..." Jenna trailed off, as if hoping for further explanation.

"I bet these words are the keys to a Crypto wallet!" Derrick snatched the notebook off Jenna's lap and half ran out of the room, headed for his computer.

Jenna followed, and watched as Derrick typed in all of the random words, and then fell back in his chair, mouth agape at what he saw.

Confused, Jenna pointed to the screen and questioned: "What am I looking at? What are those numbers?"

White faced, with eyes full of disbelief, Derrick half whispered: "It's Bitcoin, Jenna!" Then almost yelling he exclaimed: "20,000 BITCOIN!"

Jenna, still not fully comprehending the magnitude of that statement, inquired further: "20,000 dollars you mean?"

"NO, Jenna—20,000 Bitcoin!"

Derrick quickly opened the desk drawer, grabbing a calculator and feverishly typing in the numbers. His eyes grew wider as he looked up at his wife. "Jenna this Bitcoin is worth 142-million dollars right now!"

"You're joking with me!" Jenna gasped.

"I am dead serious right now Jenna Fontaine. These keys unlock 142-million dollars worth of Bitcoin." Derrick's expression was serious as he stood and faced her.

"But whose is it? It's not ours to take, Derrick!"

"You're right, it's not; we'll talk to George in the morning." Derrick responded, and the excitement on his face dwindled a little.

Morning dawned, then Derrick and Jenna explained to George what they had discovered the night before.

George smiled in response, and then proclaimed: "Congratulations you two!"

"No, George! You had no idea what you were giving me. I would never feel right about taking such a thing from you!" Jenna gasped.

George shook his head vehemently. "You both know I have no need or want for such wealth right now." His mouth turned up in a sly smile. "But I do know a young family who could make very good use of it."

Jenna and Derrick exchanged troubled looks, and then Jenna spoke: "But what of the young man who dropped this notebook? In all actuality, this money belongs to him. Right?"

Derrick nodded slightly and looked at George.

George's smile hadn't faded, and the twinkle in his eyes only grew brighter.

"Ten years ago, I met two different people on the sidewalk." He began. "One of them shoved me to the wayside and called me a beggar." George looked out the window as in deep recollection. "The other one?" He looked at Jenna. "Well, she asked me if I was okay. She picked up my broom. She invited me to her house for dinner." George's eyes looked moist as he continued. "She treated me like family, rushed to my side when I was hurt, and then she took me into her home as she would her own father."

George—possibly trying to escape showing emotion—maneuvered his wheelchair to the nearby living room window, and continued to speak: "I've never been a wealthy man. Never had much to offer the world, or even my family and friends." George went on: "I thought I would die, never able to fully repay or express my gratitude for what your family has done for me in my final years."

George turned to face Derrick and Jenna. "I'm not saying this is the right thing for me to do, but no one is going to convince me it's the wrong thing either." The twinkle returned to his eyes, and George continued: “It sure isn’t very hard for me to decide who’d I’d rather see the money go to!” George laughed heartily and wheeled out of the room.

Derrick and Jenna remained uncomfortable with keeping the enormous sum of money, and they searched for the man who had dropped the notebook. After posting publicly all over the country—and fielding call after call—they were eventually forced to give up their quest when no one ever came forward with the ability to describe the notebook in any detail.