City love

New York City

I grew up in rural Alberta where the loudest sounds were the wind combing through the tops of the poplars in the backyard like ocean waves and coyotes yipping at night in the dark. My childhood was shaped by wide open expanses of sunny canola fields, gravel roads as straight as an arrow and the river carving through the sturgeon valley. Although I loved the northern summers that allowed me to read Lad the Dog until the last climactic fight at the very end, and it was magic to wake up at midnight to smoky aurora borealis crackling across the dark sky outside my bedroom window in winter, the wandering dreamer in me craved the bustling noise and color of a city. Maybe I felt it would ease my loneliness. Maybe we always crave what we don’t have. Civilization often felt a long ways away and to my impatient eyes, life was passing me by and I was tasting none of it. But life has a way of carrying you along and life sometimes allows you pieces of your dreams. I don’t take it for granted. I’ve seen a few cities around the world – Antigua, London, Florence, Almaty – and I hope to see many more before I die. I’m hopeful life will grant me that. In the meantime I revel in the fact that I’ll be going to Philadelphia soon and I am still feeling lingering pleasure over my New York City trip, the second time I’ve been. I fell in love with that city. Walking down Bleecker street with a cup of coffee and then strolling through Washington Square Park was a DREAM. I wanted to never leave. It was all magic, the brownstones, the people playing card games in the park, the buildings whose tops were obscured by mist, the steam escaping from the grates, the graffiti, the noise, the happy chaos, the sway of subway trains and the friendly vibe of the neighborhoods and the little bookstores and Central Park and the diner where we ate lunch and the High Line, and the museum with the Georgia O’ Keefe painting and the Brass Monkey where I drank too many Pick Me Girls and running the length of Manhattan and seeing the New Jersey palisades and getting drenched in a downpour the last two miles and the quirky Jane Hotel and wonderful food and friendly people and diversity and so much human joy and angst and pleasure and and and… Sigh. I think I was truly supposed to have grown up there. But my heart has room to encompass it all. The city and the wild, natural places I love. I need them both. They are my yin and yang.

How I lost my wallet and found my faith in humanity

Life can be harsh. 

Every time I open the newspaper or scroll through my phone, I see the worst of humanity splashed all over the pages: nature exacting her pound of flesh, inflammatory politics, abuse of power, lack of empathy and so much anger and hate. When a 6-year-old child is beaten to death for drinking out of a toilet, it’s hard to hold onto hope for this world. 

But even when it feels hard to see and the darkness crowds out the light, I am reminded that goodness is out there and we just need to choose to see it. Acts of kindness are all around us, and sometimes one small act sparks another. Even a small candle can light up the darkness.

Last night, I made a late night trip to Walmart to pick up my daughter’s favorite salt and vinegar Pringles and a few other items. I was in a hurry but after drinking a coffee and a bottle of water a couple of hours earlier, I was desperate for a bathroom and resigned myself to using the Walmart facility. After using the bathroom I rushed out and grabbed a drink, sandwich from the deli, strawberry cupcakes and chips, juggling everything in my arms. Women’s shorts don’t have pockets, a real travesty, and it wasn’t until I approached the self check-out that my heart sank with the realization that I had my keys and phone but no wallet. It had to be in the bathroom. In a panic I dropped everything on the closest surface and returned to the bathroom stall where I had the memory of setting it down on top of the toilet paper dispenser and no subsequent memory of picking it up again. It was gone. Very, very gone. I retraced my steps in the faint hope that I had dropped it or set it down somewhere along the way, but it was nowhere in sight. I stopped at customer service where an overworked and underpaid employee was handling a merchandise return and asked if anyone had turned in a wallet. No, she said, no one had. 

In despair, my mind and stomach churning, I walked empty handed back to my car already taking stock of the losses. $150 in hard-earned cash. Debit card, credit card, social security card, house keys, gift cards, drivers license. My whole life. I immediately logged into my bank account and canceled the cards, and then feeling surprisingly naked and vulnerable and empty, I returned home. When I told my friend what had happened, he suggested going through the bathroom trash can, thinking someone may have taken the cash and dumped the rest. He persuaded me it was worth a shot and we headed back to Walmart. I half-heartedly poked around among the damp paper towels and random bits of flotsam and jetsam but my wallet was not there. I cursed Walmart people and their lack of scruples, convinced that if I had lost it somewhere else, it might still be in the bathroom. I stopped at customer service once more on the way out and the woman at the counter said she had just arrived at work and didn’t know if anyone had turned in anything. The first customer service woman came out of another room with a big grin on her face. “

I was just thinking about you,” she said, holding up my wallet.

Someone had turned it in. 

I nearly cried with joy. Instant relief flooded through me and I felt as if the world suddenly brightened three shades. When I opened it, everything was still there, including the cash.

I don’t know who turned it in, but I am so grateful to them.

It got me thinking about all the other times I’ve witnessed goodness. I think of the friends who regularly donate blood, which literally save lives, and of the people in our community who work to help those without homes or resources and the group who walks early in the morning in my neighborhood and picks up trash along the way and the local emergency responders collecting donations for Kentucky flood victims and the people spreading joy and beauty through their art and even the smallest things, like the way a man recently told me that when he was a teenager working at Publix he had to tell people “have a good day” and at first it annoyed him having to say those words but after awhile he saw the power that simple friendly phrase could have.

So, today I am celebrating the good – and the return of my wallet – while I wait on that new debit card to arrive, a reminder to me to have faith and hold fast onto the belief that there is hope for us after all.