I couldn’t find my wallet. Jadyne and I turned the house upside down looking for it. Everyplace we looked once we looked again. I went through all my fleeces hanging in the closet, looked in the car, under the bed, in the nightstand, around the house. I drove back to 24 Hour Fitness, thinking that if I left it there in the morning someone might have found it and turned it in. No luck. I looked again today/ No luck.
We checked our accounts and discovered that no unauthorized purchases were made. Grateful, we put a lock on the three credit cards that I carry. I called the banks today. New cards are coming. We’ll have to check in with the twenty or so accounts that pilfer money from us automatically every month or two and update our accounts.
I have a photo of my library card on my phone. That’s enough. I’ll call Kaiser tomorrow. They’ll send me one. I’ll drive to the one BART station that issues senior cards. Replacement cards are $5. I’ll stop in at the DMV and get a new license. We’ll write a check to the dentist on Tuesday, as we have no working credit cards now. I’ll drive to Tesla and arrange a new card, the backup to my phone for the car. I had two ten dollar bills in my wallet, no change. I don’t keep photos. I’ll get a new debit card from Mechanics Bank. No one used that one, either.
It’s a pain in the ass, a nuisance, an annoyance, like a leak in the roof, a flat tire, the little comeuppances that change the trajectory of the day. Nothing we can’t afford, nothing with long-term effects. A First World Problem.
Being in a kibbutz when Hamas gunmen storm in, firing AR-15s indiscriminately, going to a music festival as armed paragliders massacre hundreds, lying in a hospital bed in Gaza without water or electricity, discovering that your family is missing, taken hostage by Palestinian gunmen…these are not first world problems, but these are real, happening to thousands of people who would gladly trade them for a lost wallet, all but the 230 who were massacred at the music festival, the 1400 Israelis who were killed on October 7th, or the 9000 dead Palestinians, many of whom were children.
Third World Problems abound in the First World, too. This morning I took my pressure washer to the Dorothy Day Center. Where our homeless clients line up for breakfast was filthy, stained by spilled coffee, urine and years of dirt. I spent two hours blasting away at the entrance.
I should have added a “before photo.” I don’t think anyone will even notice.
Our guests live in the first world, but sleeping on a city sidewalk, having no money, being confused, disturbed, and alone, are not first world problems. Give me a lost wallet. Not a problem at all.
The next day. I found it.