One of the highlights of my day-to-day is an ongoing text conversation between my friends Julie and Jessica.

Julie and I can especially rely on Jessica to inject effervescence into our day by regularly updating us on everything from her shopping purchases to celebrity gossip to makeup tips to funny memes to the latest in hip slang to her yoga class to how much she really, really loves Aldi.

But last Tuesday morning, she was decidedly deflated after losing her wallet.

She had been picking up a kombucha in Lexington (see what I mean about Jessica?) and had her wallet in her pocket. But it must have fallen out when she got into her car, because when she got to the office, her wallet was gone.

Now, I think anyone would be bummed about losing a wallet. For myself, I would most mourn losing my credit card. It’s taken me about 16 years to memorize its number, its expiration date, and its special picky little code. And since I did, I programmed that number in everywhere, so I never have to remember to pay a bill again.

Anyway, perish the thought of having to replace this card with a set of new numbers. Additionally, perish the thought of having to replace my health savings account card. And my driver’s license. And, frankly, my Kroger card.

But not Jessica. She was most upset about the wallet itself, which she received from her fiancé for her 30th birthday. Which she’d had monogrammed. Which, though Julie and I didn’t ask, was no doubt a brand-name leather wallet that, if I had to guess, had the letters L.V. on it printed in brown and gold.

Of all my friends, Jessica appreciates the finer things in life the most. She’s willing to sacrifice for them, and when she owns what she really wants to own, there is no moment in which she stops cherishing her belongings.

Anyway. Given that the wallet had basically fallen onto the street in a somewhat dodgy area of Lexington, she mourned its loss immediately, not expecting she would ever see it again. Still, she went back and visited the four surrounding businesses to see if it had been handed in.

No dice.

Julie and I commiserated with her that morning, agreeing with her that its retrieval would be a long shot. However, I suggested that she might get lucky, that, because it was monogrammed, someone might be more inclined to make the effort to return it.

And then, at 3:53 p.m., she texted us again: “OMG. Tara’s positive attitude panned out. Some guy saw it and pulled over, picked it up and found my number on a receipt and called me.”

He told her he could meet her at the Walmart parking lot nearby where she works.

“He was a nice, youngish, Hispanic fellow,” Jessica reported after she had her wallet back, fully intact, with her.

We all rejoiced over the outcome.

Now. No matter which way the wind blows for you politically these days, I think the story is an important reminder of the goodness that still exists in every demographic in the country. Given what we hear on the news and from some politicians these days, it’s pretty easy to forget that, isn’t it?

In fact, a few months ago, when I was flying home to Winnipeg, there was a woman in front of me who was late for her connection. As we started exiting the plane, I heard the woman say that her bag was several aisles behind her, which would necessitate her waiting for everyone else to get off before she could access it. But, learning of her predicament, a man pulled it out for her from the overhead bin and the people in the aisle moved it forward to her, so she wouldn’t be delayed.

“See? Americans can still cooperate,” she said. “Even if Congress can’t.”

I thought of that as I walked to my next gate. What did it say about her mental state that that was the first place her mind went? And what does it say about the collective mental state of the country that we very well might have thought that too?

Anyway, I’ll get off the soap box. Bottom line, I’m glad my effervescent friend can continue being effervescent. I’m glad she didn’t have to cancel her credit cards. And I’m especially glad that I got to witness goodness last Tuesday afternoon.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s