Four weeks ago, I wrote a column saying that the government should be more selective in sending out economic stimulus money, because I didn’t need the cash they were giving me.
That prompted a response in the My Two Cents space. The writer said that she and her husband didn’t need their stimulus money either, and they had decided to give it to a local charity. She also suggested spending money to help a food pantry.
It’s embarrassing, but in my column I never mentioned anything like using my stimulus money in that way. It was just a total brain cramp, arising mostly from my tendency to write on the fly.
But the minute I got that My Two Cents email, I knew what to do with some of the stimulus money headed my way: Contribute to a bank account set up to help Heather Jones, who was badly injured in a head-on collision on Highway 98 last October.
I had been meaning to do that for weeks, because Heather was returning home from her nighttime job at the newspaper when the accident occurred.
Heather worked in the mailroom, where people put circulars into the paper and apply mailing labels. In just a few months, she had proven herself to be reliable and capable, and her easygoing personality was a big plus.
The collision was just horrible, and my wife and I were glad to help out.
I don’t know all the details, but Heather spent a long time in a Baton Rouge hospital, mostly in an effort to repair damage to her right leg. Unfortunately, doctors had to remove part of her leg below the knee.
I called Heather a couple of weeks ago to make sure the bank account was still open. For someone whose life had been turned upside down, she sounded remarkably upbeat — even cheerful.
We had a nice conversation, and I really admire her effort to recover. She will soon be fitted for a prosthetic, and I hope she’ll return to work here if able. The technology in this field has greatly improved in the last two decades, and that plus her positive attitude will see her through this ordeal.
Anyway, I can now amend my original “I really don’t need the stimulus money” statement from four weeks ago. Mary Ann and I used it to help someone in need, and all the credit goes to the anonymous My Two Cents writer who helped wake me up. Whoever you are, I am grateful for the nudge.
I made the deposit into Heather’s account at Pike National Bank about 10 days ago, and the world was good. Which of course meant that something distressing was bound to come along, and it sure did.
Like many of you, I was bummed two weekends ago when the New Orleans Saints lost a home playoff game to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Tampa’s defense just took over the game in the fourth quarter and won it. It was a tough way for quarterback Drew Brees to go out, if indeed he decides to retire.
I have Saints season tickets, and really would have liked to be at the stadium to see Brees face off against Tom Brady. But only 3,000 people were getting in because of the coronavirus.
I did not expect to get an e-mail from the Saints about tickets, and one never arrived.
Or so I thought.
Last Saturday, I came into the office to catch up on some things. I was looking for an e-mail that I should have received but could not find. So I looked in my spam folder.
Scrolling there, I found an e-mail from the Saints that said something like, “Get ready for gameday!” A little bit further and there it was:
“You have been assigned tickets to the Saints vs. Buccaneers game,” an e-mail said. My four seats were in the lower-level corner of the end zone.
It took a little while to get over that one. I had tickets to Brees vs. Brady, but they were hidden in that spam folder.
Mrs. Ryan says that by missing the game, I saved a trip to watch the Saints lose. I guess that is true. The fourth quarter was painful enough on TV. Being forced to watch it in the Superdome would have been worse.
But I am all in on the Saints. I enjoy the games. I am a fan. It would have been a blast to be there, even in defeat.
I was worried the Saints would charge me for the tickets, even though I never downloaded them. But they waived the cost, so a bad news story had a modestly happy ending.
