Sometimes, I get more than I deserve in this life. People are nicer than I expected. They give me credit that I really didn’t earn.

Case in point, I returned to my desk at work earlier this week and there, sitting alone, was the Red Baron, a Hot Wheels car of my youth. I don't know who left it.

Now, I recently wrote about my love of Hot Wheels, how I treasured them as a kid, destroyed them and tried to save them. The Jack Rabbit, the Boss Hoss, the Python, the Silhouette and the Sand Crab, along with the Red Baron, were part of my coveted collection.

In the end, they all disappeared when I left home for college and I lamented that I hadn’t done more to keep them and wished I still had them.

Somebody had pity on me. 

I picked up that Red Baron, held it and looked it over. Still had the famous German helmet. The headers of the engine. The Hot Wheels insignia. And of course, gleaming red. 

Mind you, it didn't have the crosses on the helmet. It wasn’t one of the originals. Still, it was the Red Baron.

I marveled at the details and smiled. I showed it to colleagues at work and brought it home to my wife. Now, as I write, it sits on my desk. 

That someone would read something I wrote is wonderful. That they had a Red Baron and brought it to my work and left it for me is one of those gifts you always remember. It’s one of those surprises that brightens your day. It makes life better.

When I look around my room at home, I see signs of kindness from others.

A plaque from the Coeur d’Alene Fire Department honoring me for my reporting hangs on the wall.

There is a picture of my good friend, the late Glenn Mickens, a man I came to know in my years on Kauai. He pitched for the Brooklyn Dodgers in Ebbets Field when he was young and I always admired him and he knew I loved baseball. He once presented me with a picture of himself in his Brooklyn Dodgers uniform with the inscription, “To Bill Buley, a good friend and a fine editor.” I always said afterward I appreciated being called his friend, but the fine editor part was questionable.

A picture of an eagle with my favorite Bible verse, Isaiah 40:31, sits on my desk, a present from my daughter, Kelli.

My cousin, Cathy, recently mailed me an old Sports Illustrated, 1999, with Michael Jordan on the cover, because she knows I collect Michael Jordan stuff.

Cincinnati Reds helmets, Pete Rose cards and Robin Hood figurines that used to come in cereal boxes sit on shelves, all courtesy of my brother, Mark.

Last month, old friends came by our home to spend time chatting and gave us a check for $100. They said it was just for going out and having fun. We did.

My sister, Patti, recently mailed me our late father’s last driver’s license, as she came across it and thought I would want to have it. I carry it in my wallet. I miss my father more and more.

My kids, for my last birthday, pitched in and bought me new camping chairs because my others were held together by duct tape, and a new propane camping stove because my old one required pliers to turn on, rocks to hold steady and the propane tended to leak.

I don’t mean to get caught up in things because it’s not the things that count. 

It’s the giving, and the heart of the people behind it, that will always be with me.

And the Red Baron.

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Bill Buley is assistant managing editor of The Coeur d’Alene Press.