The Wallet

Walking home from the train station last week, I found a wallet. It contained ID, a Social Security card, an ATM card, some credit cards and a bank debit card. And it had no money in it. I pocketed it and decided to try to return it. And when I got home, I placed the wallet in an envelope and addressed it to the address found on the person’s ID.
Then I stopped for long moment. I began to think, “Hmm, what if this guy lost this wallet and it had money in it? And now he’s going to get it back from someone Lies, (who is honestly only trying to spare them of the extra worry and added misery of getting new credit cards, ID, etc). Is he going to assume that I took his money, but that I didn’t want to be a total dick, so I returned the ID, credit cards and Social Security card?” I tried to imagine what I would do had I found the wallet with money in it. Ten years ago, I would’ve pocketed the cash, bought pizza for all my roommates Ch-ch-ch-Chia! and thrown the wallet down the sewer. Five years ago, I would’ve pocketed the cash, and returned the wallet anonymously (probably by finding the person’s house and dropping it in the mailbox or giving it to the police). But now, at an ethically utilitarian point in my life (and not in a boastful sorta way so don’t read it that way), I was proud to note that I would’ve returned the wallet full bore, money included, with no strings attached. The rationale for this is simple: I’ve come to realize that I should treat people the way I would want to be treated, or that I should treat people even better than the way I would want to be treated. And the reason I’ve come to act this way is karma (the force Plate generated by a person’s actions held in Hinduism and Buddhism to perpetuate transmigration and in its ethical consequences to determine the nature of the person’s next existence).
No, I’m not getting all religious, so relax. In laymen’s terms, karma cheap nba jerseys means that any dick moves you make in life will come back to you and make your own life suffer. And I’ve witnessed it physically manifest itself way too many times for it to just be a crazy Hindu/Buddhist idea.
So I decided to return the wallet, regardless of the consequences. And the process was an enduring one. There I was standing above a 3×5 envelope debating how to address it, whether or not I should put a return address and what type of note I should write. Had I not included a return address, the person would definitely assume that the person anonymously returning the wallet had stolen money from them. But Winded if I included the return address, and the person did in fact have money stolen out of the wallet, the person could then locate me and try to come beat the living shit and accompanying lost money out of me. So I stuck, then unstuck and then re-stuck a return address sticker on the envelope. I decided that if the person did in fact come looking for me, that I could reasonably tell them the circumstances under which I found the wallet and that all would work itself out. Fingers crossed.
I then debated over the casual note attached within side the envelope, which finally ended up reading “Hi, I found this on the way home from the train station near the front of my house. It has some important stuff in it, so I wholesale nfl jerseys wholesale mlb jerseys figured you might appreciate getting it back. Take care, Brian” (Not too official but not too casual. Explanatory without sounding criminal, yet abstract enough to not say “Don’t blame me. There wasn’t any money in it when I found it,” which actually would’ve made me sound more guilty of stealing money that wasn’t there in the first place). $1.06 later, it was off in the mail one town over to someone I was hoping would not become vindictive towards me.
Saturday morning arrived. I was supposed to be getting dressed for a wedding when Sub I heard a knock on the front door. There I stood in a sweater vest with dress shirt, Tasche tie and boxer shorts, opening the door half-expecting it to be one 10 of my friends, when a tall, African-American man says in a deep voice, “Is Brian there?”
“Yeah, I’m him,” I say. And cheap nfl jerseys the man turns to the side, and reaches into his pocket. I automatically assume it’s the wallet guy coming to beat me up for stealing from him, when he hands me a bottle of Courvoisier, a French cognac first made popular wholesale jerseys by Napoleon, followed cheap nfl jerseys then by Ice Cube and Snoop Dogg. He begins to walk away from the porch and says, “That’s for the wallet man.”
I stop Willa him and say, “I can’t take de this,” though I am visibly shaken by the encounter, once again, half-expecting him to pound me into something resembling a wet prune on the front porch of the house.
He asks, “Why?”
And I replied, “Well, I would hope to get the same treatment had my wallet been stolen. It’s no big deal really.” In retrospect, I should’ve said something about Ice Cube having a hissy fit had he discovered that I (the whitest of white men) was drinking Courvoisier, but in times of distress, my humor button doesn’t function too well. So I forced the bottle back onto him and pointed him to where I approximately found the wallet.
He remarked that it was proximate to his friend’s house down the street, but not sure how it traveled up the street. And I wanted to speculate that it was probably neighborhood kids acting how I would’ve ten years ago, cheap jerseys but I let it rest and bid him farewell. He drove away and I breathed deep, relaxing over how easy the altercation had transpired.
I was too busy worrying over needless details, forgetting the fact that not all Rush people automatically think the worst possible thoughts about other humans. Some of us can still be thankful for benevolently avoiding lines at the DMV, not having to cancel credit cards and not having to register for new Social Security cards, even if they do think that honest people wishing to avoid karmic backlash drink French cognac. I mean, honestly, aside from gangsta rappers, who drinks that shit anymore?

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