Finding a Wallet on the Street

A friend of mine was shopping at a mall about five miles from her house. As she was walking through a store, she saw something colorful on the ground. My friend went to pick it up, and realized that she had found a child’s wallet. It was one of those brightly colored wallets, with yellows and oranges, and a Velcro seam, that 11 and 12 year olds like to carry around. My friend opened the wallet to discover 84 dollars and a middle school ID card. Now, I could write a whole other blog post about how a middle school student has 84 dollars in his wallet, but that is for another time.

My friend took the ID and called the middle school. When she got the address of the child, she was surprised to discover that he lived in her subdivision, less than half a mile away. My friend took the wallet with all 84 dollars and returned it. The boy and his mother were thrilled. And my friend had made a new connection with a previously unknown neighbor.

My friend’s experience of finding lost money on the street is practically universal. We have no moral problem with picking up change that we see on the ground. Were we to find a 20 or even a 100 dollar bill on the street, there is no ethical reason not to keep it, since there is no way to find its owner. However, when my friend found the wallet, and saw the ID, she knew that she had to take action.

My friend did not let the 84 dollars tempt her, and she did the right thing. But sometimes money can cloud our judgment when it comes to doing the right thing. When does the hope of financial reward interfere with the high ethical standards that Judaism demands?

At the worst of times for a family, when a loved one passes away, the possibility of money corrupting good deeds can appear. We all know the phrase: “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” One of my lawyer friends likes to say: “Where there’s a will, there’s a relative.” When the desire for money finds its way into the mourning process, sometimes the results can be difficult to witness.

At one funeral, a woman passed away in her 70s. She had a companion, a man that she did not marry. She left all of her belongings, including a very nice apartment, to her relatives. The companion and his children were very unhappy that they would receive nothing, and even during the preparation for the funeral, they were already contesting the will. At her funeral, the companion gave a euology that was hard to hear, because the family was unsure if he was truly expressing his love of the woman, or trying to make a better case for receiving part of her wealth.

Perhaps the lesson here is the power of money to blur even the best intentions and deeds of kindness. Returning 84 dollars found in a wallet is not too hard, although it is human nature to want to keep even that amount of money. But what about when a loved one passes away and you are left out of the will?

Judaism teaches us that money should never cloud our judgment, especially when it comes to caring for our loved ones. When Abraham lost his wife Sarah, he went to purchase a burial place for her at Machpelah, in Israel. Abraham enters into negotiations and ends up purchasing a small plot of land to bury his wife. It cost him 400 shekels, which was a huge sum to pay. A similar plot of land was sold elsewhere for 17 shekels. Abraham overpaid by 383 shekels! But Abraham does not argue and remains gracious, paying the full sum.

I am not advocating for getting ripped off. But I am saying that when it comes to the most important tasks in life, like caring for elderly relatives and burying our loved ones, money should not prevent us from doing the right thing. One Jewish prayer lists the commandments, mitzvot, that Jews perform with no expectation of reward. Some of these good deeds include: Honoring parents, welcoming the stranger, visiting the sick, rejoicing with bride and groom, and burying the deceased.

Judaism teaches us that our task is to treat everyone in our family, and everyone in our lives the same, whether they are of great means or no means. For when we fight for what we think is ours, we may end up with nothing but hurt feelings and strained relationships. But when we do the right thing, like returning a wallet we find on the street, we feel good about ourselves, and we might even make a new friend.

Fly Fishing in Argentina

The day of my fly fishing excursion in Argentina, the forecast was for a high of 85 degrees, one of the great benefits of traveling in the southern hemisphere in December. I met my guide, Lucas Darsie, at 5:30 am. We drove for an hour, through the most perfect, picturesque hills and valleys. With few trees, we saw amazing views in all directions. There was no one around for miles. The sun was coming up above the peaks of the hills. This was the most beautiful place that I have ever fished.

Picture: The San Jose River at sunrise

We got out of the car to begin our hike to the stream. I saw a sign at the gate, and even my rudimentary Spanish skills could decipher that we were to fish the San Jose River, a stream protected by the Cordoba Trucha (Trout) Club. Then I asked Lucas the question that I had been practicing all morning to myself: “Donde estan las truchas?” “Where are the trout?” He smiled and pointed to a small path that would require a half-hour hike.

As we walked, Lucas told me about the Cordoba Trucha Club that he founded with his friend Esteban. They had created the signs to protect the stream. They came out every week to clean up, and they enforce the catch-and-release policy on the water. Like every fly fishing stream from New York to Montana to Argentina, the San Jose River is precious and fragile. When I learned that Lucas worked to protect his stream, I smiled as I was once again reminded of the connection between fly fishing and the environment. As fly fishers we want our children and grandchildren to have that same wonderful experience of seeing a trout rise to a fly and breathing in the perfect cool air on an early morning fishing trip.

As we hiked, there was no one around for miles. The scenery was beyond description. But I soon discovered that we were actually in a minefield. It was not a war zone exactly, but rather a very popular route for cattle. There were huge cow pies everywhere! Argentina is known for its beef, all grass-fed and natural, giving it a superior flavor to our American cows fed on a diet of corn and hormones. The San Jose River wound its way through a large ranch, and we saw a dozen or so cows on our hike.

Lucas and I arrived at the river at about 7 am. There was a good hatch of flies, and I cast my Griffith’s Gnat onto the stream. Within half an hour, I caught four small rainbows, all of which were returned to the river. As the sun came up, and the hatch ended, we began to hike down stream. Lucas was carrying my backpack and water bottle and hopping like a mountain goat from rock to rock. I was trying not to fall too far behind or sprain an ankle.

We stopped at many fishing holes, and Lucas aptly suggested where to cast and which fly to use. With a brown grasshopper at the end of my line, I tempted a "monster" fish, who moved towards the surface, but then retreated back to the deep water. Later on, I hooked another good size trout, and felt the strong tug on the line and the bend of the rod. I almost had the fish in hand, but I pulled a bit too hard and the line snapped.

Video: The Trout that Got Away!




After a few hours of beautiful scenery and casting, Lucas and I began the long trek through the minefield and back to the car. I was exhausted, but felt that sense of calm and peace that comes after an exciting adventure has ended. I will not soon forget the views on the San Jose River or the perfect solitude I experienced knowing that Lucas and I were the only humans nearby.

On my trip to Argentina, I learned that fly fishing is an international language. Lucas and I grew up in different countries, speak different native languages and have different religions. But as we fished for truchas, spoke about our families, and reflected on our passion for preserving rivers and streams, Lucas and I became friends.

Fly Fishing knows no international, religious or ethnic boundaries. Through the miracle of the internet, I keep in touch with fly fishers in Israel, the UK, Finland, New Zealand and all 50 states. When fly fishing brings us a greater appreciation of nature, inspires us to protect our world, and forges connections across continents, then it is no longer just a hobby. It is a valuable passion for us and for our planet.

To contact Lucas Darsie for a guided fly fishing trip to the San Jose River, Patagonia or to pursue the golden dorado, CLICK HERE.