Editor, Daily Nexus,

This past Friday, I had just left Girvetz Hall at 9 p.m. after a script reading. Confident of finding my way in the dark back to where my wife had dropped me off that afternoon somewhere west of Campbell Hall and where we arranged to meet after the reading, I set off on foot. After going around the building where we worked, I immediately became lost. Gone was the long avenue leading to the spot where I was to meet my wife, and gone were any recognizable landmarks that I had more or less noted on my trek earlier. Instead, there was a fairly continuous traffic of automobiles, little illumination by yellowish street lamps, and a maze of roads and paths worthy of a Minoan location.

After a few minutes of aimless stumbling around, a car suddenly stopped in front of me and a voice asked if I needed help. Needed help? I was totally lost, with a wife waiting for me at the other end of the campus in a place I only vaguely knew the location of. They probably stopped because my age — I am 87 — and my attire — tweed jacket and gray flannels — pretty much identified me as being more on the professorial end of the scale, and I must have had that helpless, teetering look that people in such a situation rapidly acquire. Regardless, their good hearts told them I was in need. Two young men and a young lady, who promptly left the front passenger seat and made room for me, helped me out, and off we went into the dark night yonder. We careened around the general area I had designated, and we sped — the driver was superb — up and down a few avenues and around various parking lots until, somewhere west of Campbell Hall, the young lady in the car spotted a women getting out of a car, a Prius like the one I had described, and we swooped down in her direction. We had found her, glory be to those fine young people.

I got the driver’s first name, which this morning I have of course forgotten. If any of you three blessed souls read this, or someone tells you about this letter, please communicate with me at (805) 682-4320 or georgegaynes@cox.net. My wife and I thank you.