“Missed Connections” on Craigslist have long been enjoyable to read, but this missed connection really raises the bar. This beautifully written ad reminds us of the power of connection and that we never know how much our actions might impact the people around us.

The ad begins with a veteran struggling with his time in the service.

Photo Credit: Craigslist

The text of the post says:

I met you in the rain on the last day of 1972, the same day I resolved to kill myself.

One week prior, at the behest of Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger, I’d flown four B-52 sorties over Hanoi. I dropped forty-eight bombs. How many homes I destroyed, how many lives I ended, I’ll never know. But in the eyes of my superiors, I had served my country honorably, and I was thusly discharged with such distinction.

And so on the morning of that New Year’s Eve, I found myself in a barren studio apartment on Beacon and Hereford with a fifth of Tennessee rye and the pang of shame permeating the recesses of my soul. When the bottle was empty, I made for the door and vowed, upon returning, that I would retrieve the Smith & Wesson Model 15 from the closet and give myself the discharge I deserved.

I walked for hours. I looped around the Fenway before snaking back past Symphony Hall and up to Trinity Church. Then I roamed through the Common, scaled the hill with its golden dome, and meandered into that charming labyrinth divided by Hanover Street. By the time I reached the waterfront, a charcoal sky had opened and a drizzle became a shower. That shower soon gave way to a deluge. While the other pedestrians darted for awnings and lobbies, I trudged into the rain. I suppose I thought, or rather hoped, that it might wash away the patina of guilt that had coagulated around my heart. It didn’t, of course, so I started back to the apartment.

And then I saw you.

A beautiful stranger had taken shelter from the rain. The two talked and laughed over coffee.

Photo Credit: Craigslist

You’d taken shelter under the balcony of the Old State House. You were wearing a teal ball gown, which appeared to me both regal and ridiculous. Your brown hair was matted to the right side of your face, and a galaxy of freckles dusted your shoulders. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

When I joined you under the balcony, you looked at me with your big green eyes, and I could tell that you’d been crying. I asked if you were okay. You said you’d been better. I asked if you’d like to have a cup of coffee. You said only if I would join you. Before I could smile, you snatched my hand and led me on a dash through Downtown Crossing and into Neisner’s.

We sat at the counter of that five and dime and talked like old friends. We laughed as easily as we lamented, and you confessed over pecan pie that you were engaged to a man you didn’t love, a banker from some line of Boston nobility. A Cabot, or maybe a Chaffee. Either way, his parents were hosting a soirée to ring in the New Year, hence the dress.

For my part, I shared more of myself than I could have imagined possible at that time. I didn’t mention Vietnam, but I got the sense that you could see there was a war waging inside me. Still, your eyes offered no pity, and I loved you for it.

And they lived happily ever after, right? Right?!?

Photo Credit: Craigslist

After an hour or so, I excused myself to use the restroom. I remember consulting my reflection in the mirror. Wondering if I should kiss you, if I should tell you what I’d done from the cockpit of that bomber a week before, if I should return to the Smith & Wesson that waited for me. I decided, ultimately, that I was unworthy of the resuscitation this stranger in the teal ball gown had given me, and to turn my back on such sweet serendipity would be the real disgrace.

On the way back to the counter, my heart thumped in my chest like an angry judge’s gavel, and a future — our future — flickered in my mind. But when I reached the stools, you were gone. No phone number. No note. Nothing.

As strangely as our union had begun, so too had it ended. I was devastated. I went back to Neisner’s every day for a year, but I never saw you again. Ironically, the torture of your abandonment seemed to swallow my self-loathing, and the prospect of suicide was suddenly less appealing than the prospect of discovering what had happened in that restaurant. The truth is I never really stopped wondering.

My heart is broken.

Photo Credit: Craigslist

I’m an old man now, and only recently did I recount this story to someone for the first time, a friend from the VFW. He suggested I look for you on Facebook. I told him I didn’t know anything about Facebook, and all I knew about you was your first name and that you had lived in Boston once. And even if by some miracle I happened upon your profile, I’m not sure I would recognize you. Time is cruel that way.

This same friend has a particularly sentimental daughter. She’s the one who led me here to Craigslist and these Missed Connections. But as I cast this virtual coin into the wishing well of the cosmos, it occurs to me, after a million what-ifs and a lifetime of lost sleep, that our connection wasn’t missed at all.

You see, in these intervening forty-two years I’ve lived a good life. I’ve loved a good woman. I’ve raised a good man. I’ve seen the world. And I’ve forgiven myself. And you were the source of all of it. You breathed your spirit into my lungs one rainy afternoon, and you can’t possibly imagine my gratitude.

I have hard days, too. My wife passed four years ago. My son, the year after. I cry a lot. Sometimes from the loneliness, sometimes I don’t know why. Sometimes I can still smell the smoke over Hanoi. And then, a few dozen times a year, I’ll receive a gift. The sky will glower, and the clouds will hide the sun, and the rain will begin to fall. And I’ll remember.

So wherever you’ve been, wherever you are, and wherever you’re going, know this: you’re with me still.

I’m not crying. You’re crying. We’re all crying.

One small act of kindness and friendship saved this man’s life. It’s a reminder to treat the people around us with kindness. You never know what someone else is going through.

The post This Craigslist ‘Missed Connection’ Will Hit You Right in the Feels appeared first on UberFacts.

Games are supposed to be a force of good that brings us together. Online games like Minecraft and Fortnite let gamers of all ages connect with each other and play together online. Unfortunately, predators have now taken advantage of the online video gaming world to attempt to lure kids and teenagers to meet them for sex.

In New Jersey in September 2018, 24 adults were arrested for trying to meet underage children for sex, having used games like Minecraft and Fortnite to establish communication. After the Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force set up fake profiles for 14 and 15-year-old kids on games and apps, law enforcement officers posing as the kids were approaching by adults who thought they were talking to minors online. Here is a video of New Jersey Attorney General Gurbir Grewal announcing the arrests.

Those arrested would strike up conversations with the “minors” and chat with them for up to a week before trying to initiate a meeting in the real world. One of those arrested is actually a police officer, 47-year-old Richard Conte of the Howell Township Police Department. Conte believed he was talking to a 15-year-old girl. He has since been suspended from the force.

The sting took place over a week in Toms River, New Jersey. Men believed they were going to a house to meet an underage minor and instead were arrested when they arrived. The police called the sting “Operation Open House.”

Photo Credit: Facebook,New Jersey OAG

The men who were arrested came from all walks of life, including the aforementioned police officer, a firefighter, a nurse, a physical therapist, and a hotel manager.

District Attorney Grewal said, “It’s critical that parents talk to their children about social media and chat apps to let them know that the people they encounter may not be who they initially seemed to be.”

Photo Credit: Facebook,New Jersey OAG

Hopefully, this will be a wake-up call for parents to keep an eye on their children’s gaming and social media habits, because we all know how easy it is for people to present themselves as someone else online.

If the men are convicted, they face a minimum of 5-10 years in prison and a fine of up to $150,000.

The post Over 20 Men Arrested After Attempting to Lure Kids Using Fortnite appeared first on UberFacts.