I’ve always disliked jewelry, rings, pins, watches….. and as a high school basketball jock that was convenient. But when I got my graduation ring in 1955, that was exceptional and I wore it all the time. That summer a job came from one of my sisters, a Mercy nun at the new College of St. Mary in Omaha. The landscaping guys called me a taxi with its doors open, all ears and a crew cut. Before I knew it the ring was gone. Mother assured me, “Pray to St. Anthony and it’ll turn up.”
Yeah, right! Old St. Tony was asleep on the job, so I never wore jewelry again.
Fifty-one years later Creighton Prep called about a ring, so I went to the college to meet Angel Garcia where he found it. The instant I walked up the slope I knew it was my ring. A hedge of bushes had been removed recently, right where we had planted them so long ago I couldn’t calculate. The young Latino had polished it to look like new. Angel was proud to return it. With a hand on my billfold I sensed he probably wouldn’t take a few bucks as a reward, but I recalled about 20 years before we visited Mexico and I stashed some pesos away next to my library card for a return trip some day. Garcia smiled and couldn’t refuse the gesture from his homeland.
We kept in touch for a while and that was good. Mel Brooks always said, “It’s nice to be king.” But it’s nicer to have an Angel restore your faith in young men with a eye for tradition. Well, I know, just in case I need a miracle, there’s an Angel around, and he knows if he needs a dentist, I can find him one.
Mark Manhart, DDS