Karma

First off, the photo has absolutely nothing to do with the post. Just my way of making the grandparents smile :)

Last night Don and I went to dinner with some friends at the Orient Hotel in the Rocks. Wow - a real night out. We got some drinks and got a standing table by the entrance. No chairs, just a table with a little shelf underneath for your purse, etc. About ten minutes in we decided to move upstairs where it was a bit warmer. About twenty minutes after that we were sitting upstairs enjoying our drinks and conversation when I realized that I should probably check my phone, just in case the babysitter had called. What did parents do thirty years ago? I would say that they probably went out and enjoyed themselves, instead of having the luxury to check their cell phone neurotically every half hour (or is that just me?). Well, I looked to the left, to the right, behind me, then jumped up like a bee had stung me, realizing that I couldn't find my purse. I realized that I had left it downstairs, in the crowded bar area. Don went flying down the stairs, I was five steps behind him. The table was now occupied by a group of twenty something guys....and my purse was gone. Now, the story could sadly end there. However, one of the twenty something guys pointed out front and said to my husband, "the bag is over there". The front door guy walked in at that moment, with my purse in hand. The guys at the table had handed it in to security. You cannot believe the feeling of absolute relief that washed over me in that five seconds. I have never lost a purse or had one stolen. I've never even misplaced my wallet (my glasses are a another story). However, I have found a few wallets over the years. Probably the most memorable one is when I was thirteen. I had just walked outside Sav-on when I saw a wallet sitting on the ledge of the pay phones. I looked around and there was no one close by. I stood by it for a few minutes but no one came for it. So I covertly put in under my shirt, which was not an easy thing to do given the size of the thing. This was one of those wallets where the guy had his life stuffed in it. The kind that throws hips out and causes sciatica. It was chockablock full of credit cards, business cards, the pink slip to his vehicle, and a wad of cash. I think it was like $160, which to a thirteen year old in the early 80s was a lot of moolah. I showed my mom and stepfather. My stepfather gave me the sage advice of taking the cash out and tossing the wallet in a mailbox (nice, huh?) where he assured me that the postman would deliver it to the rightful owner. My grandmother, who lived with us, quickly pulled me aside and sat me down. She said that basically I had found the wallet, and it was my decision to do what I wanted. But, I also knew what would be the right decision. I thought about it for about an hour, and decided that I would call the owner. I still remember how nervous I was. I uttered, "I uh, I have your wallet" or something eloquent like that. The guy put the phone down and I could hear him yelling to someone in the background. He got my address, and said he'd be right over. He showed up about twenty minutes later. I gave him the wallet, he opened it up, thumbed through the money - twice - put the wallet in his back pocket, uttered "thanks", then turned around and left. I was disappointed, I really thought I might get a reward. My grandmother said she was proud of me, my stepfather laughed, and I felt like the world's biggest fool. I what-if'd the situation for days. What if I had just taken twenty from the wallet? For a few days I even lived on hope, half expecting him to return and present me with a reward so I could blow it on Chu-Bops and rainbow unicorn stickers. Eventually I came to realize that my reward (and I know this sounds really cheesy) is being able to look back and know that I did the right thing. I hope at the time it gave my grandmother some comfort, knowing that her years of hard work and diligence of instilling values, actually took. So fast forward twenty eight years and here we are. When things like this happen, I think it just verifies that life is full of cause and effect and that our daily actions do shape our present and future experiences in life. Call it Karma, the Golden Rule, or just doing the right thing. By the way, after my knees stopped shaking we bought the group of guys a round of drinks to show our appreciation. And guys - if you're out there - your mums would be proud!