Losers Weepers

I was walking my dog today when I saw, laying on the road, a perfectly crisp $20 bill. I looked around for an obvious source. I bent down slowly, scanning the houses for life, perhaps a devilish teen, ready to unleash a trap upon my opportunistic hands.

I gingerly picked up the bill, half expecting it to be glued to the ground or laced with minor explosives. But it wasn’t. My relief was short-lived, giving way to something else… guilt. Sure I’m as entitled as the next guy, moreso perhaps because “finders keepers”, but it felt like I was getting away with something. I continued down the road, holding the bill at length, ready to drop it when ambushed by the rightful owner.

About five car-lengths down the road I heard the jostling of glass and saw an elderly woman digging through the recycling bins. I called out to her, waving the bill.

“Hey, did you drop this?”

She looked utterly surprised and then started moaning.

“Oh my god thank you, thank you, you’re an angel.”

I felt embarrassed at her effusive response, and realized I needed to clear something up.

“I just found this on the ground, it’s not mine, you should take it.”

I’m not sure she really heard me, or cared, she just waved me over, arms crammed with bottles.

“Please, put it in my pocket, we can help the homeless with this and oh my god thank you, what’s your name?”

I told her my name, and kept telling her I found it, trying to downplay her assessment of my benevolence. But I did walk away feeling pretty good, wondering if anyone witnessed this bizarre turn of events. Proof that I’m a good person.

But what if I had been struggling, or really needed that money, and instead I kept it? Would I feel less good? Perhaps a bit of that guilt? Absent the congratulatory cheers of my invisible peers. Absent the proof that I’m a good person.

By definition, to give something you must first have it. The biggest charitable donors are billionaires. Is it right to lionize them for those acts? To judge character on something so dependent on one's situation?

But my stepfather made a good point when I told him this story — maybe it’s not about me. Maybe it’s about her.