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Perfect strangers fill a need

I’d like to share a human interest story that you might find newsworthy.
A family-owned business in Corydon, Pfeiffer Jewelers, committed a ‘random act of kindness’ on my behalf on Wednesday, July 21. I walked into their store with a sterling silver bracelet that had belonged to my son, Robert Russell Logsdon. I had come into possession of this bracelet on July 19, the day after my son’s tragic death in a car accident which occurred in Harrison County. His photo, obituary and details of the accident were printed in your paper. After my son’s funeral and burial in Corydon, the first thing I wanted to do was take his bracelet and have it altered to fit my wrist so I could wear it right away.
A close friend of mine took me to Pfeiffer’s jewelry store. I told the clerk behind the counter that I had just buried my 21-year-old son. I asked her if there was a jeweler in the store who could remove some links from the bracelet that day. I didn’t want to leave the bracelet and have to pick it up at a later date. I couldn’t bear to have the bracelet out of my possession for even one day. The jeweler stepped out of a room nearby, where he had been working, and said he would do it right away. He put aside all his other tasks and began work immediately on my bracelet.
While I waited, I decided to look around to see if I could find any charms to put on the bracelet that would honor my son. The first one I found signified Rusty would never grow old. It said, ‘Always 21.’ On the back of the charm I had the jeweler inscribe two simple words, ‘My son.’
I found another charm that looked like a miniature antique picture frame that would enclose a photograph of my son.
The last charm I found was a Mizpah. It’s a charm with a heart broken in two pieces. Inscribed in the heart are the words from the Bible in Genesis 31:49. ‘The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another.’ I had half of the Mizpah put on my bracelet. The other half was put into a tiny air-tight plastic bag.
Our business completed, my friend, who insisted on paying for everything, asked the clerk, ‘What do I owe you?’ The clerk answered, ‘No charge.’ I was so touched. I asked if I could meet the owner. From a back room, the owner stepped out to meet me. I hugged her, thanked her and asked her why she wouldn’t accept payment. She said that she, too, had buried a young son many years before. She said when she realized I had just buried my son she couldn’t charge me. I thanked all of them, Mrs. Pfeiffer, the clerk and the jeweler who did the work.
When I left Pfeiffer Jewelers, I went back to Cedar Hill Cemetery and buried the other half of the Mizpah charm in my son’s freshly covered grave. On such a sad day, crushed by grief, wanting and needing so badly a memento of my son to be so close to me that it would even touch my skin, these perfect strangers filled that need. I’ve never received a more precious nor more heartfelt gift. The only reason that I have related this story to you is so that Corydon, Ind., would realize that they have an angel among them.
Rusty’s Mom
Editor’s note: Bernie and Doris Pfeiffer lost their 16-year-old son, John Pfeiffer, to Hodgkin’s Disease in 1970.