Are You There Henri? It's Me, Complete Stranger.

A new hobby of mine is shopping at Goodwill. I told somebody this recently and their response was essentially, "How can you do that... you're taking away from the poor?" Why do so many people believe this? It's the other way around. Goodwill is a wonderful organization that takes the profits from the sales of used items and puts them to use with educational programming and job training in order to provide more opportunities to people who are already denied way too many. So, basically if you shop at Goodwill, you are helping pay for these programs. You're not taking away from anyone, you are essentially getting treasure finds at dirt cheap prices and still supporting a good cause. It doesn't get much better than that.

Anyhow, one of my favorite things to do at Goodwill is to peruse the CD section. There are 3 crates at my Goodwill with thousands of used CDs to choose from. So far, I've scored quite the trove - albums from Massive Attack, Jill Scott, Everything But the Girl - and have been listening to them non-stop in my car. I recently bought "The Commitments" album for $1.50, and every song that comes up brings me back to my childhood when my mom used to be away at work and I'd be home alone, so I'd blast some of her CDs and sing and dance to them in the tiled door entryway. Not only are these albums providing hours of unexpected entertainment, some are also feeding that nostalgia portion of my brain that is tragically so undernourished.

This morning I went to Goodwill to participate in my own personal Saturday CD Safari. I bought No Doubt's "Tragic Kingdom" (memories of a middle school boy stealing the tape from his sister from time to time flooding my head and my ears with each song), an old Harry Connick, Jr. album (more Mom music - me mimicking his voice in the confines of my childhood bedroom) and one very interesting find...

Right in between an Enya album (she's HUGE at Goodwill!) and Garth Brook's Greatest Hits, I found a Dany Brillant album, "C'est Ca Qui Est Bon". Now, I've heard of Dany Brillant before - maybe in French class, I'm not sure - but the only reason I bought this album is because there was a piece of paper taped to the front of the CD with a phone number for somebody named Henri. (See below - I've covered two of the numbers so nobody harasses anyone.)



I just couldn't resist. How mysterious! Who is this "Henri" character? Why did he give someone this album? Is he French? Hasn't he heard of Post-Its?

Holding the CD in front of me, my imagination immediately began to run wild. You see, Henri was a foreign exchange student from Paris studying at the UW. He fell in love with a girl, Suzette. Everything about her was so French - her name, her swagger, her beautiful, pursed lips - but she was just as American as all the Heathers and Ambers he came across. Plus, she had no idea who Henri was. He was so insecure about his command of the English language that he never got the guts to speak to this girl, so on the eve of his flight back to Paris, he slipped this album under her dorm room door with his phone number attached in hopes that one day she would call him.

No, that can't be. Why would he give her an American phone number to be reached at in Paris? Oh yes, that's right, because Henri was actually a first-generation American with Tunisian parents. One day, in his mid 40s, he remembered it was his mother's birthday in two days. He had no gift and no ideas. After reminiscing about his childhood, he remembered how his mother would sing to him old Dany Brillant songs to help him get to bed as a small boy. The perfect gift! Why not remind his mother how much he appreciated those times and that comfort with one of Brillant's albums? Oh, and his mother didn't have his new phone number either, so he had to tape it on the CD so she'd remember it. Also, he couldn't email her, because this happened in 1981. What's that you say? Dany Brillant was born in 1965 so this story is impossible?

Oh, forget it.

For those of you who know me well, you know I am a very curious person and don't have too much fear with random human interaction or awkward situations. So, the only thing left for me to do was just call the number. I did...

Straight to voicemail and it definitely was NOT Henri. It was a woman with an American accent.

I guess I'll never know who Henri really was, but he provided me with hours of imaginative thinking and mind escape that I'll never get back. Regardless of it all, the album's pretty good so at least it was worth the money!