A World Divided

                TO HAVE AND  HAVE NOT--PART 1
    Some years ago,  I lost my pocketbook while I was shopping at Colonie Center.  I'd bought several large items, like pillows and shoes which were in shopping bags, and I inadvertently failed to pick up my purse when I'd put all the bags down to look at another item.  I retraced my steps to the last place I knew I'd had my purse with me, but it was gone.  Unlike men, who typically stash their valuables throughout several pockets, women place all their belongings in a single container, and when separated from that, the world ends as far as communication is concerned----wallet, change for payphone, then a main resource, car keys----all are gone.  I felt so cut off from the world.  I found my way to the Mall Security Office to see if my bag had been turned in, and to use the phone to call my husband who was at work several miles away.  The security officer was on his way to a dentist's appointment, so he told me, and was of limited help,  but I did manage to use the courtesy phone to call Dave to come rescue me.  I sat on a bench in the mall waiting for him to come, feeling exposed and bereft.  I envied every woman walking by, each carrying a handbag.  The world was divided in two:  those who were successfully connected to their lives and those who were cut off from any meaningful existence, in this case me, a minority of one.  (The wait was much longer than I had expected, so I was afraid I'd given Dave the wrong contact information; what if he thought I was at another mall, or if he expected me to be waiting outside. I had no way to let him know: even the security office was now closed.  Eventually he showed up; as it turned out, while I was waiting in misery, he, in the comfort of his office, had taken the time to cancel my credit cards.  If I hadn't needed a ride home, I would have killed him.  Moreover, as we were leaving the mall, I was paged over the loudspeaker.  Someone had turned in my pocketbook, with all contents  completely intact.   Good news, though I did have to re-activate all my credit cards.
                                     PART 11
 Our dog had died, our third collie, and the most appealing of the three great dogs we had owned.  We'd replaced our first, Chance, with Lex, after a year had passed, and then Cosmo replaced Lex, also a year after we'd lost him.  When Cosmo died, we knew he would be our last dog, primarily because he was so much a part of the family he would be  irreplaceable, and also because we lived on the main highway so finding a location to  exercise a dog was time and energy consuming. Time does move us on.  Once more, the world was divided into two parts---dog owners, and those who did not have a dog.  Whereas before, I envied every woman who was one with her purse, the pang of not having a dog went much deeper and lasted for a longer period of time, actually right up to the present. 
      
                                 PART NEXT
   I wonder about other losses that occur over time, losses more critical to one's essential  being than a lost purse or a lost pet.  As we age, we inevitably lose what we once had;  vim, vigor, resiliency, physical strength.  We mourn the passings, but if we're lucky, such deteriorations are gradual and universal, and don't separate us from our peers.  Major mishaps and serious diseases leave us vulnerable, but mostly without much choice as to what path to take to get the best results.  But what about voluntary separations from the self we once were.   I'm trying to determine if opting for an artificial body part, such as knee replacement, would make me feel as if the world were divided into two parts--those with and without artificial joints.  I've sat in a mall and observed the handbag carriers stride confidently by; I've checked out in a supermarket behind smug dog owners pushing carts laden with giant bags of dogfood.   It's hard to predict how I'll  feel about yet another degree of separation.