Surely someone I knew would walk by and I’d be able to get them to spot me 10 bucks. I could repay someone by Venmo immediately.

(Okay, I heard over the weekend that perhaps I could have used Venmo at Walmart. But, the validity of that possibility for our Sanpete “one door Wally” has yet to be confirmed by me. Besides, if that is true, it diminishes my story and makes me look even dumber than just being the guy who forgot his wallet. So, I’m forging ahead with the story regardless.)

I’d say, normally, on average, by the time I enter Walmart and walk to the pharmacy, I’ve already said “Hi” or had mini-conversations or full-size conversations with at least three people who I know. That wasn’t the case Friday evening.

We stood and watched people go by as they paraded down the main “front of store” aisle. “Who are these people?!” — I was exclaiming in my mind. I didn’t know anybody.

I started considering asking strangers for a donation.

“Hey, would you consider making a small donation to a worthy cause? It’s an organization that I recently started up. It’s called ‘Help Merrill’s Nose Stop Running on Account of Allergies.'” (HMNSROAOA — Not a very catchy acronym, I know)

If there would have been more time, I would have gone into the parking lot and started asking people for their spare change. Or, I could have sat by the door with a cup in my hand and a “hey brother can you spare a dime” look on my face.

In any event, I was missing you “known to me Sanpeters” Friday night. It was a rare moment, being there without you.

A few years ago, my wife took her sister into our Walmart. There were nonstop stops (does that make sense?) for visits with friends, acquaintances, students, and strangers too, for all I know. My sister-in-law said, “I’m in culture shock!”

Going to the store in her area of Utah County is not the social event shopping experience like we normally have here. Up there, it’s simply called shopping.

I know that many of you readers are good to help others out. I’ve seen people “pay it forward” at stores, fast food places, etc. I’ve heard of people randomly passing out $100 bills in Sanpete at Christmas time. (FYI: It wasn’t me.)

Not too long ago, I advanced the payment of a small grocery bill for a newcomer to Sanpete. (Pats myself on the back.) She was ahead of me in the check-out line in the grocery store. She found herself in the same boat I was in Friday night.

She was about to leave her groceries and come back later with payment. That’s when I offered to help. It didn’t matter, but I kind of knew who she was. I had to explain to her who I was, by explaining who my wife was.

She was supremely grateful. But, for her, it was out of the question that she take the help as a gift. She insisted on repaying promptly. For the record, Friday night, I would have accepted a gift of $8.64 from anyone.

I’ve had high points and low points when it comes to helping people in moments of financial need. I regret declining to help at a gas station when I was asked if I could put a couple of gallons of fuel in a gas container. I was told that they were trying to “get home.” I felt a little chastened when the next guy, at the pump nearby, did donate some fuel.

I think Sanpeters are generally good helpers and givers. We usually come to the rescue when we know there is a need to be met.

My father-in-law lived with us in Sanpete the last part of his life. It was quite common to see him give money away to strangers, especially kids.

I watched his daughter, my wife, not too long ago, give money to an older woman who was meticulously cleaning the floor toward the end of the late shift at a restaurant. This kind of helping attitude and behavior can be a generational thing.

(She probably won’t be happy that I have called attention here to what was meant to be a quiet act of recognizing someone’s effort who probably needed a boost.)

I know many others, friends and family, who have good hearts and are good givers. My question is: where were you Friday night when my nose was running? — Merrill