If you forgot some reading and writing material on the Great Lawn in Central Park last night, here it is. Presumably you went to the New York Philharmonic concert there, which marked 50 years of the Concerts in the Parks series. It was a nice show but hectic—the unexpected rain forced an early intermission, caused a couple of numbers to be dropped from the program, and led some people to flee early.

And so, after Sousa’s “Washington Post” and the fireworks, as we were cleaning up our multifamily encampment just outside the VIP section barriers, we found abandoned on the grass this copy of Slave: My True Story by Mende Nazer, accompanied by a well-worn Hefty zipper bag full of note cards.

There’s a lot of reading and note-taking that went into the package, and someone almost certainly would want it back. A slip of paper at one side of the bag, facing out, lists the name “Jinny,” a Brooklyn address on Taaffe Place, and a nonworking 312 phone number.

I’d prefer not to ransack the bag for more clues unless I have to. So if this collection of notes is yours, or if you know whose it might be, please let me know at scocca@gawker.com.