RANDOM ACTS

It's all too easy to grow cynical and wary in this urban environment, but the outpouring of letters and e-mails in recent weeks reveals a heartwarming level of honesty, compassion and humanity. Maybe we're a more gentle species than city life suggests?

No Crying Over Spilt Eggs

Like most Capitol Hill folks, I was devastated when Eastern Market burned. Saturday, I was encouraged to see the temporary shed going up, promising near-normalcy by August. Meanwhile, the merchants have set up makeshift operations using refrigerator trucks and the like.

Market Poultry, run by smiling Mel Inman and his extended family, is one of the neighborhood's best-loved institutions. I had gone to mourn the market the day after the fire. Mel was there. Nearly in tears, I shook his hand and told him I was sorry. He gave me a hug and a smile and said, "We'll be back."

Well, they are. My husband and I stopped by the Market Poultry truck to get a dozen eggs on Saturday. After paying, I tripped over the curb and dropped the eggs on the ground. Without a blink, Mel Jr. insisted on giving me an un-smashed dozen. I protested that it was my fault and that maybe some of eggs were salvageable. He would have none of it. "Not everyone likes scrambled eggs," he said. "Some people like fried."

So I walked away (more carefully this time) with my priceless eggs and my renewed faith that the market is alive.

-- Monica Sullivan, Capitol Hill

The Checks Are in the Mail -- Again

Before I left for work one morning, I placed several checks in a bank deposit envelope and headed out the apartment door, pausing only to drop a few letters in the mail drop in the lobby of my building. When I got to the ATM downtown, I was horrified to discover that the bank deposit envelope was missing. What had I done with about $400 in checks?

When I got home, I double-checked every place I had been. I called the apartment building office to ask if anyone had turned in a bank deposit envelope. No luck. A few days later, I went to the bank to see if anything could be done to track the checks. No luck there, either.

More than a week went by, and I decided that all was lost. Then I went to collect my mail late one afternoon and found a letter from the post office. Lo and behold, there were my lost checks. I had dropped the deposit envelope into the lobby mail slot that morning.

The envelope had been opened by someone at the post office who checked for my name and address and then mailed the checks back to me. I was amazed at the honesty and kindness of the post office employee and want to offer my thanks.

-- Joseph H. Quintano, Alexandria