Karma of Kindness (With Help from the Internet)
Woke up this morning
I suddenly realized
We're all in this together
I started smiling
Cos you were smiling
And we're all in this together
I'm made of atoms
You're made of atoms
And were all in this together
And long division
Just doesn't matter
Cos were all in this together
—"We're All in This Together," Ben Lee
Heading home from Zach's baseball game Saturday, I was down in the dumps. His team had imploded again, falling to 0-8 after a 2-14 drubbing. To make matters worse, Zach had headed off to the movies with a teammate's family, leaving me to drive alone with my thoughts rather than having him along to chat with. It was 106 degrees outside—well above our seasonal norm—and after sitting out in the heat for three hours, I was hot and cranky. And I had a hot, cranky and very tired Zienna along with me, as well as Kelly at home sick in bed, waiting for us. I wasn't feeling very weekend-y at all.
Spotting a local strawberry stand that sells fruit grown right on the spot, I stopped, desperate for something to lift my spirits. The aroma of the bright, red berries was like magic, as were the smile and broken English of the friendly merchant selling them. I purchased several basketsful and got back on the road feeling much more upbeat. Zienna was snoozing, finally through crying, and I had the air conditioner, the radio, and the sight and scent of that luscious produce to keep me company. The afternoon was definitely looking up.
Once home, however, I realized with some frustration that my wallet was missing. I immediately knew where I'd left it, since I'd only stopped once. But would it be at the fruit stand when I got there? Might someone have taken it? Or had I perhaps left it on the roof of my truck and driven off, meaning it might have fallen off anywhere along the way home—perhaps even the freeway? There was only one way to find out. So I headed back across town.
Back at the stand, I approached the gentleman from whom I'd purchased the berries and tried explaining why I was there. He shook his head and smiled. Trying a different tact, I motioned as if I were pulling out my wallet but finding it missing. That did the trick. He whisked it out from below the berries and thrust it into my hands, assuring me in broken English that he had not touched anything inside. I was elated. I thanked him and then headed back home with my resurrected afternoon still looking up.
Several hours later, as the sun was setting and I finally had dinner for myself on the stove, I realized I hadn't checked my email all day. Sitting down for a second to do so, I found there wasn't much except for a comment to post to my blog. Comments are always fun, so I was curious to read it, a bit surprised to see that rather than being from from a friend or family member, it was posted by "Anonymous."
Quite tired, I decided to think about what to say before sending this thoughtful soul a thank you note in the morning. Then I sat down to have dinner, feeling very contented. I savored my meal and then cleaned up the kitchen before settling down for the evening. But a few minutes later, as I began dozing off in front of the TV, I decided to check my email one more time before turning off the computer for the night. And again, I found a message from the stranger. This time, they'd gone to the trouble to join a music-related web site I run and sent me a private message--two of them, in fact.
Since Saturday, I've been looking at strangers a bit differently since any of them could be my good Samaritan, or might be in the future. Or I could be theirs. We're all on this little planet together, and from time to time, we need to rely upon one another. So, if I've been just a tad more inclined to let a car into traffic or hold the door at the store or let someone with fewer items ahead of me in line—and felt good about doing so—I have the act of a stranger to thank for reminding me that a little effort goes a long way and pays huge dividends. And I'll do my best to keep that fact in mind the next time a dreary day has me in the dumps.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, the strawberries were really good, too...
I suddenly realized
We're all in this together
I started smiling
Cos you were smiling
And we're all in this together
I'm made of atoms
You're made of atoms
And were all in this together
And long division
Just doesn't matter
Cos were all in this together
—"We're All in This Together," Ben Lee
Heading home from Zach's baseball game Saturday, I was down in the dumps. His team had imploded again, falling to 0-8 after a 2-14 drubbing. To make matters worse, Zach had headed off to the movies with a teammate's family, leaving me to drive alone with my thoughts rather than having him along to chat with. It was 106 degrees outside—well above our seasonal norm—and after sitting out in the heat for three hours, I was hot and cranky. And I had a hot, cranky and very tired Zienna along with me, as well as Kelly at home sick in bed, waiting for us. I wasn't feeling very weekend-y at all.
Spotting a local strawberry stand that sells fruit grown right on the spot, I stopped, desperate for something to lift my spirits. The aroma of the bright, red berries was like magic, as were the smile and broken English of the friendly merchant selling them. I purchased several basketsful and got back on the road feeling much more upbeat. Zienna was snoozing, finally through crying, and I had the air conditioner, the radio, and the sight and scent of that luscious produce to keep me company. The afternoon was definitely looking up.
Once home, however, I realized with some frustration that my wallet was missing. I immediately knew where I'd left it, since I'd only stopped once. But would it be at the fruit stand when I got there? Might someone have taken it? Or had I perhaps left it on the roof of my truck and driven off, meaning it might have fallen off anywhere along the way home—perhaps even the freeway? There was only one way to find out. So I headed back across town.
Back at the stand, I approached the gentleman from whom I'd purchased the berries and tried explaining why I was there. He shook his head and smiled. Trying a different tact, I motioned as if I were pulling out my wallet but finding it missing. That did the trick. He whisked it out from below the berries and thrust it into my hands, assuring me in broken English that he had not touched anything inside. I was elated. I thanked him and then headed back home with my resurrected afternoon still looking up.
Several hours later, as the sun was setting and I finally had dinner for myself on the stove, I realized I hadn't checked my email all day. Sitting down for a second to do so, I found there wasn't much except for a comment to post to my blog. Comments are always fun, so I was curious to read it, a bit surprised to see that rather than being from from a friend or family member, it was posted by "Anonymous."
Are you missing a wallet? It was found at a strawberry stand...the man at the strawberry stand is holding it for you...contact (email address deleted for privacy reasons) for more info, if needed. we don't want to put too much information on here in case we don't have the right person. we looked for your phone number but didn't find any...this is the best we could do.I sat there, dumbfounded, staring at the computer screen. Granted, I'd already retrieved my wallet. But someone I'd never met had not only turned it in to the fruit stand, they'd spent their Saturday evening tracking me down so I'd know where to find it. I was so touched by the kindness of a stranger that suddenly, the challenges of the day—the brutal game, the intense heat, Kelly's illness, even leaving my wallet across town—didn't matter. All because someone I'd never met had done a kind act.
Quite tired, I decided to think about what to say before sending this thoughtful soul a thank you note in the morning. Then I sat down to have dinner, feeling very contented. I savored my meal and then cleaned up the kitchen before settling down for the evening. But a few minutes later, as I began dozing off in front of the TV, I decided to check my email one more time before turning off the computer for the night. And again, I found a message from the stranger. This time, they'd gone to the trouble to join a music-related web site I run and sent me a private message--two of them, in fact.
did you lose a wallet today....Saturday?Now I was really blown away. And considering it was nearly 10:00—meaning this person had spent at least two hours looking for me online—I felt guilty that I hadn't responded earlier. I quickly did so, and then I sent a little something their way as a reward, feeling it was the right thing to do.
forgot to leave a contact (email address deleted), regarding the lost wallet
Since Saturday, I've been looking at strangers a bit differently since any of them could be my good Samaritan, or might be in the future. Or I could be theirs. We're all on this little planet together, and from time to time, we need to rely upon one another. So, if I've been just a tad more inclined to let a car into traffic or hold the door at the store or let someone with fewer items ahead of me in line—and felt good about doing so—I have the act of a stranger to thank for reminding me that a little effort goes a long way and pays huge dividends. And I'll do my best to keep that fact in mind the next time a dreary day has me in the dumps.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, the strawberries were really good, too...
Labels: Scott
posted by Scott at
12:55:00 PM
2 Comments:
Very cool. Cool of the produce guy, and of the people who contacted you.
At a training session recently, the presenter was talking about her child, who was interviewing for a high-level security government job. One of the questions was, "You went to the grocery store. When you get home, you realize that they didn't charge you for a candy bar. What do you do?" The candidate gave the wrong answer, but he didn't understand. They didn't care if you rationalized that it would cost more in gas than the price of the candy bar to go back to the store. Regardless of what the candidate said he'd ultimately do, they wanted to hear the candidate say that the candy bar wasn't his. Whatever he said after that was irrelevant.
I was at Target the next weekend, by myself. I paid for my stuff, and as I was headed for the exit, I noticed an item at the bottom of my basket that hadn't been rung up. I could literally see my car, since I'd parked right in front. No one would know but me. But you know what? It wasn't mine - I hadn't paid for it yet. I thought of my children, and hoped that when faced with a similar situation, they would do the same thing.
There are good people in this world. Let's hope our kids grow up to be among them. All we can do is set a good example.
Can I just tell you how many times the exact same thing has happened to me at Target? They must not be trained well to check under carts (or even to look deep inside them). I always feel foolish going back, but I know it's the right thing to do--and I make it a lesson for the kids when they're present.
I'm not surprised by the story about the candy bar, unfortunately. Too many people nowadays feel the world owes you something and/or (as in this guy's case) that you only have to be honest when someone's watching or it's convenient.
I'm far from being a saint, and I'll admit that a couple of times in the past, if the item was small, I've let it go in such situations. But as I get older, I am much less inclined to do so. I don't care what anyone else (except my kids and wife) think. I have to live with myself. And who am I to look down on others doing such things if I'm not going to do the right thing myself?
A couple of years ago at the grocery store, I asked for $20 back and, a short distance away, realized three crisp, new bills had been stuck together so perfectly that it was almost impossible to notice. I drove back and returned the extra two, and the cashier was shocked. A few months later, I got home and realized I'd not received $20 I'd asked for from the same store. I went back, they audited the cashier, and yep, I got my money. It was hard not to pair the two incidents in my mind, random as they were...
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home