Tuesday, November 30, 2010

You’re only as good as the last friend you lost…

I’m going to write about friends today. Before I do, however, I want to tell you about this wallet I found.

I was out walking the dogs a few days ago and, just about where Shipoopi was about to poop, there was this wallet in the grass. Nobody was around and there weren’t any signs as to who it might belong to, such as being in front of a car. I knew if I didn’t pick it up someone would, so I did. The wallet had no money in it, very little actually. It did have some ID, membership and credit cards. There was a letter inside, which I didn’t read. There was also a list of phone numbers, like a list of co-workers.

The first thing I did was to look up the addresses on the ID cards. Neither panned out. One belonged to a high school and the other, which I only learned after I drove to it, was an apartment manager’s office address. Dead end. The folks on the phone number list didn’t know the owner of the wallet so that was out, too.

Finally, I Googled the name. It’s a fairly unique name and I was fortunate to hit a Facebook page right away. I emailed the person and, sure enough, I found my lost wallet owner.

I’m supposed to meet the person sometime today to return the wallet.

I say all this because I feel it’s important to show at least one way in which I’m not a complete prick. Vicky would probably tell me I don’t need such an example, that I’m a good person and those who think differently are the pricks.


But I recently lost my best friend and, for the second time in as many years, I had someone I thought would be my friend for life tell me I was a total louse. Things like that tend to get to me. I try not to be a louse but I know I’m human and, therefore, could be a louse without knowing it.

My immediate response is to rationalize this with the knowledge that anyone who thinks I’m a louse is obviously not a friend, thus minimizing my loss. And yet, I can’t help wonder what it is about life that turns those I once loved against me. I could say it’s the other person. I could say it’s me. I think the truth lies somewhere else, kind of like the way divorces end up – or, at least, the way mine did.

There’s just no explaining it. You find someone who doesn’t think you’re a louse.

And you do things like returning lost wallets to remind yourself that, despite what others may think, you aren’t the bad person they think you are.

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