Karma comes back to those, who have done good, in odd ways. If, we are able to remain humble, the karma excels itself towards us. But, if, we become less humble, the return good-karma may, possibly, be missed...

On a cold day in February, 2007, my friend Thomas, who passed away from brain cancer in August of 2007, and I were waiting for a bus on Barbur Blvd., in Portland, Oregon. Thomas was sitting in his wheelchair. I had him bundled up, as much as one could be bundled, to keep him warm, and I had an umbrella. The Oregon rain was pounding like no-tomorrow. Thomas says, “look, out in the street!” I looked out in the street, and all I could see was cars, as, far, as, the eye could see. It was rush hour. It was Friday. And, the road home had turned into the vicious Friday night rush, with each driver trying to get ahead of the next. Horns blasting, people cutting others off, some blasting through the intersection without any regard to those who attempted to cross the maddening sea of the American Friday night hell bent rush to get home.

So, with not much interest I said to Thomas, “yea, just a bunch of damn cars!” “No!” He says. “In the middle of the street, look!” “Look at what?” “Look, there's a scratch ticket (lottery ticket) face down in the street,” says Thomas. I told him, “yea, more garbage in the middle of the street. It's just what we need, another piece of garbage.” He started to try to get out of his wheelchair, but, he was so sick, he fell back into it. “If I could just get out of this chair I'd go out and get it. I just know it's a winner.” “Are you absolutely nuts, I asked?” “I need the ticket,” he says. He tried to get out of the chair again. This time I told him, “sit down, I'll get the damn ticket!” So, I stomp out into flowing Friday night traffic, almost getting mowed down, stop the enraged motorists in the third lane, and grab the ticket. I never looked at it. It was really soggy. I make it back to curbside, more wet than before, with a full-blown downpour underway (Hey, its Oregon). “Here's your ticket, Tom” (he hated being called Tom). He slowly scans the ticket. Even, when we bought those scratch tickets at the store it took him the longest time to scratch a simple ticket, and even when he was well.

“See,” he says, “it's a winner!” I just looked at him, and said, “right. Let me see that thing.” And, you, know what? He was right, it was worth $5.

I asked him “how did you know that ticket was worth something?” And, here is what he said; “I always am nice to people, and I believe always being nice and kind to others produces good karma. Karma always comes back to you, but, sometimes people miss it. They miss it because they're too busy, or just plain don't realize it sits right in front of them. Just look at today, I wanted to buy you a little bottle of scotch, but, I didn't have any extra money, and you've been so good to me, and, so, I hoped to find good-karma, so I could buy that bottle of scotch. When I saw that ticket I felt it was the $5 I needed. When we need something it will come.”

(I will always wonder why he wasn't able to get the good karma he needed to live? He was always doing things for other people. Thomas died August 3, 2007, from brain cancer.) (And just as a side note, he always was worried what would happen to me after he wouldn't be here anymore. His goal each month was to make it to the third of the next month, so he could add his Social Security to our operations and make sure the rent was paid. And he kept meeting his 3rd of the month goal till he took his last breath. Thomas Robert Prints is the most amazing person I have ever known.)

June 3, 2008 (note the date, it's the third!)

It was around sunset when I left Fred Meyer's in Tualatin. I was a little short on my rent, and I was thinking about that, as, I lugged my two heavy bags of groceries up Martinazzi Avenue towards Sagert Street. It's a uphill run from Fred Meyer up to Sagert, via Martinazzi. As, I walked, it was beginning to get cold out. This spring has not produced the warmer temps we are use to, this time of year. My pace had slowed, due to the grade. There's a big, long hedge which separates the Oregon Department of Employment property from the eastern sidewalk of Martinazzi Avenue. I was walking on the sidewalk, glancing at the hedge, noting the different types of trash stuck in the hedge. A banana peel, a empty plastic bag, an empty pop can, an empty crushed up Marlboro box, an old weathered keno ticket, and I walked about another 100 feet, and in that 100 feet, the story I've just told you about Thomas, began to circulate through my mind. I remembered the lottery scratch ticket in the street.

I set my two bags of groceries down on the sidewalk, and walked back to the weathered keno ticket. And weathered it was. It was stuck on a branch, and, it had been stuck there for a while because the branch had worn a fairly large hole it its center from the wind blowing it back and forth on the branch. You could still read its date, May 8, 2008, and a faded bar-code, and nothing else, except for the Oregon Keno logo on it.

As, I grabbed it off the branch, I quietly said, “this had better be good, Thomas!” I folded it in half and put it in my wallet. About a week later I was at Fred Meyer's to cash in 50 cents worth of beverage cans (cans have a 5 cent deposit in Oregon, and have since 1973), and I took the ticket for the cans up to customer service to get my money. While in line I checked my wallet to see if I had any other can tickets I might have saved when I came across the Keno ticket. I pulled it out and started chatting with the lady, in line, behind me. I showed her the ticket and told her I found it. She mentioned how battered it was. I said, “they probably won't be able to scan it, and then I'll have to pay 42 cents and send it to Salem (Lottery Headquarters) for them to mail me the results of it being worth nothing.” And, we, both, laughed.

I get up to the front of the line, collect my 50 cents for the cans, and, then, show the Keno ticket and ask if the bar-code was still readable enough? I knew customer service lady. She said, “I'll see if I can, Joe.” She took the scanning device and I heard a beep. The “beep” is the sound the machine makes when it has received a valid code. Then the machine printed the results. She tore it off, turned around, smiled. I said, “did I win two bucks?" She said, "let's go down to the other counter and I'll pay you. Ah, you did better than two dollars," but, she didn't tell me how much. She just kept smiling. I said to the lady behind me, “its $5!” Nothing, could have been further from the truth. The customer's service lady says, “its a good thing you brought it in,” and she started laying down multiple $20 bills. I lost count after five. That ticket was worth $140. I almost fell over. Thomas had delivered to me the rent money I needed and $40 extra. I had to go sit down I was so overwhelmed.

It brought me to tears.

And, I found it stuck on a bush...

Thomas is with me every day. What a grand human being he is and was... I love you, Thomas.

_________________________

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