All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten Read Free Page B

single and middle-aged and Jewish. “An old-fashioned cobbler,” says he, nothing more, nothing less. I happen to be convinced that he is really the 145th reincarnation of the Haiho Lama.
    See, the Haiho Lama died in 1937, and the monks of the Sa-skya monastery have been searching for forty years for his reincarnation without success.
The New York Times
carried the story last summer. The article noted that the Lama would be recognized by the fact that he went around saying and doing wise things in small, mysterious ways, and that he would be doing the will of God without understanding why. A guy like that would be worth looking for, all right.
    I found him. Through some unimaginable error in the cosmic switching yards, the Haiho Lama has been reincarnated as Elias Schwartz. I have no doubts about it.
    My first clue came when I took my old loafers in for total renewal. The works. Elias Schwartz examined them with intense care. With regret in his voice he pronounced them not worthy of repair. I accepted the unwelcome judgment. Then he took my shoes, disappeared into the back of the shop, and I waited and wondered. He returned with my shoes in a stapled brown bag. For carrying, I thought.
    When I opened the bag at home that evening, I found two gifts and a note. In each shoe, a chocolate-chip cookie wrapped in waxed paper. And these words in the note: “Anything not worth doing is worth not doing well. Think about it. Elias Schwartz.”
    The Haiho Lama strikes again.
    And the monks will have to go on looking.
    Because I’ll never tell—we need all the Lamas here we can get.

 
     
     

    A NGELS
    “A RE YOUR STORIES TRUE? Are the people real?”
    The simple answer is Yes. The more complicated answer is that I am a storyteller, not an investigative journalist. A good story can be improved by adding necessary facts—spice to the stew. A dash of hyperbole may be used to encourage laughter. And sometimes I combine two very similar good stories into one better story—sacrificing what is true for the sake of Truth. Often it’s necessary to change names and certain identifying details to protect the privacy of the individuals about whom I write. Not everybody wants to be well known.
    A case in point is the Haiho Lama.
    The story is true. But, from the beginning, the shoemaker was adamant about not being identified. He felt it was not right to get credit for simply doing what everybody ought to do in the first place. “Please don’t use my name or tell people where my shop is,” he asked. So I made up a name: Elias Schwartz. It was just as well. The shoemaker’s real name was too improbable to be credible: Eli Angel.
    Mr. Angel is dead now, and I feel free to correct the facts and tell you the rest of the story.
    Eli Angel was an Orthodox Sephardic Jew born on the island of Rhodes. Though his formal education was limited, those who knew him considered him a very learned man. He could hold his own in Greek, Spanish, French, Hebrew, and English. He knew history and philosophy and theology. A generous man, he was active in helping other immigrants settle into their adopted country. In his neighborhood in Seattle he was revered for his many small acts of perceptive kindness, for believing that whatever good a man does comes back to him. When he died, the synagogue was filled to overflowing. They called him a
tzaddik—
a righteous man, worthy of respect.
    By coincidence, my wife knew Eli’s wife. My wife, the epitome of medical discretion, had never told me that she was Mrs. Angels’s physician. After Eli’s death, Mrs. Angel was feeling pretty bad and came to see my wife. She missed her beloved husband. She wished more people had known him. My wife told her the story of the Haiho Lama from the
Kindergarten
book, and explained that millions of people knew about her husband—they just didn’t know his real name. His acts of kindness had come back around to comfort his wife.
    Doing good things without expectation of reward