This was just another day. Then, a bad thing happened to me.

It was my day off. "Off" means running errands, keeping appointments, and purchasing inventory. That's as close as I get to "off". This was an especially dull day, with nothing worth reporting.

Unrelated thought: I often misplace things.

At the last stop of my errands, I couldn't find my WALLET. "Oh shit. Oh SHIT!" Thus began my Day of Panic. I retraced every faux-memorable move my body made from the time of waking until frozen in fear upon realizing my life had suddenly, and without warning, hit a wall.

It's not the wallet. It's the STUFFING.

First order of panic: cancel the charge card, followed by calls about general i.d.'s, driver's license, insurance cards, tax #'s, conceal/carry permits, etc. etc. etc. (we're talking some heavy stuff), and finally, cash. Not much cash. There never is... but that was the least of my concerns anyhow.

I drove and called everywhere. I had people searching their entire businesses. I tore up our home. I was on phone menu/hold lines as I tried to get cards cancelled or reissued or whatever each card required to keep me safe, legal, covered... calm.

The stress was incredible. I could feel it twisting up in my shoulders and neck. I could feel my impatience with people SKYROCKET. I yelled at other drivers as I tried to get from one location to the next - all the while picturing someone - NOT an honest person - picking up my wallet and vanishing. I yelled at a robot voice at the Virginia Division of Motor Vehicles... which kept on talking as though it didn't care about me at all... the bastard!!

Hours are passing. Cards cancelled. I've been in "Phone Hold Hell" repeatedly now. I miss lunch. I get "the shakes" from lack of food. I could feel myself snapping into tiny pieces. It is no fun. I also feel bad because I wasn't staying cool and calm during this mess...

A great thing happened to me today.

I was near collapse - the kind of collapse where you end up thinking things like "I don't care anymore. Take it all, you bastards. Just make me unconscious..."

... and then, the phone rang again.

I'd sent LOTS of unfinished calls out there, and was waiting to hear from lots of people now asked to help (caught) in my web of wallet-life-or-death.

"Mr. Ives?"

Now, normally, if you even SOUND like a sales or donation panhandler, you're GONE. I don't even bother to say "No!" You're just GONE. Something - probably my desperation - told me to respond.

"Yes. Who's this?"

"My name is Kevin. I found your wallet."

"........................................................
.........................ohhhhhhhh man..."

He began to laugh. "Yeh, I can relate."

"Where are you? I'll come get it now! You have no idea what you've just done for me!"

He laughed again. "I DO. I'd hate for this to happen to me. I found it in the parking lot between two cars in front of the post office..."

"Yeh, I was there alright! I went to that spot TWICE, trying to find it! You must've already picked it up!!"

"I guess so. Where would you like to meet?"

It was MY turn to laugh. "Kevin, I'm on YOUR schedule, you're not on mine!"

"How about 4:30 in front of the post office?"

"Done. Look for a guy with a gray beard, gray ponytail, dark blue t-shirt, and blue jeans."

"Will do. See you then."

.
.

I couldn't immediately undo the stress. I was wound too tight. It was deep in my muscles now. I tried to loosen it up by doing other chores around the house, etc., but it didn't work. I went to the post office early.

While standing there, a panhandler approached me. He wanted 50 cents. I laughed. "Man, I lost my wallet today, and if you hang around long enough, you'll see the man who FOUND it RETURN it to me!"

We talked about that. It was the kind of event we could both count on one hand. His last time was also his wallet. It had twenty bucks in it, and he'd left it in a phone booth. Returning to search for it, he found it tucked away so no one else would notice it until the rightful owner came along and searched in a thorough fashion.

The panhandler left before Kevin showed up with the wallet. Kevin apologized that he'd had to go through it to figure out how to find me. "Like I'm going to complain?" I laughed. He mentioned there was some cash in there. "Not much," I said, "and I'm not going to count it."

He refused a reward, but I insisted that I mail him and his wife a gift certificate to my store. It's the least I could do. In his eyes, what he did was the least he could do. THIS has restored me. I'm still knotted up, but my wife will help me with that later on tonight. For now, I'll just sit at the keyboard, tell you about it, and memorialize Kevin - the guy who did the right thing.

Thank you Kevin.