Random Acts

It was cold and it was raining very hard. I was walking through the streets of San Francisco, cold, wet, hungry, and on the verge of being very lost in a city that I knew not at all. I was pretty sure I could find my way back to the Denny’s where she was waiting for me, but that wasn’t guaranteed either.

The year was 1982, I think. I also believe it was late in the fall and she was pregnant with our first child. We were still newlyweds and would sometimes take off on weekend road trips just to spend time with each other and explore new things and places before our baby was born. We chose to go to San Francisco this weekend where we saw wonderful things I’m sure. We might have gone to Sea World, or maybe Fisherman’s Wharf. To be honest, I can’t remember much of the trip before our car, a 1974 Volkswagen Beetle, broke down. I remember vaguely having it towed to a garage where we were told that it would be a few days before they could have it repaired.

As enlisted members of the United States Air Force, we couldn’t just call in and say we’d be off for a few days. We had to make some kind of arrangements to get ourselves from the City by the Bay back to Castle Air Force Base, some three hours away. We called some friends and they agreed to drive the three hours to pick us up and make sure we got back home.

At some point after we deposited our little car at the fix-it place for bugs, we found ourselves at Denny’s with no cash or credit cards. All we had was a checkbook and Denny’s don’t take checks. At least this one didn’t in the fall of ’82. So out I went in search of cash.

I don’t remember if it was raining when I left the restaurant, but I know it rained quite a bit as I walked into business after business asking if they would cash a check for a few bucks so we could get something to eat. Time after time I was turned down. I mean, think about it… a young kid of 21, soaking wet, shivering, almost lost in a big city full of big city cynics, feeding a sob story about a broken down car and a pregnant wife and trying to cash a check without purchasing anything. Would you? Well, neither would they.

I walked on, determined not to give up. She was back there at the restaurant depending on me and I wasn’t going to quit.

Then it happened.

I walked into a simple card shop, nothing fancy, just a little mom & pop store with mom sitting behind the counter. There was another lady at the counter too, but the place was otherwise empty. They stopped their conversation when I walked in the front door and gave me a good looking over. I almost walked out without asking but decided to stay when she asked if I needed help.

I explained my situation and asked if she would cash a check for me so I could feed my hungry wife and myself while we waited for our ride back home. She shot a glance at the other lady and I was sure I about to be turned down for the umpteenth time, and she asked if ten dollars would do. I eagerly accepted and got out the checkbook. After writing the check and collecting the money, I thanked her with all of the thanks I had, and then thanked her some more. Even with all that thanks flying at her, she had a look of doubt on her face when I walked back out the door.

It was cold and it was raining very hard. I was walking again through the streets of San Francisco, cold, wet, hungry, but at least I had a ten-spot in my pocket for food… if I ever found my way back to Denny’s. I took a few wrong turns; things didn’t look familiar, but wait… I think I remember that street name a block over. When I finally walked in the front door of Denny’s, I found Kelley crying in a corner booth. Waiters, waitresses, management, had all been trying to reassure her that I would be back soon, that I would be all right wandering the streets of a very large city with which I was in no way familiar.

She rushed up to me and threw her arms around me and the Denny’s staff brought me some towels that I used to try to dry myself off. We ordered some food. I seem to remember that they had fed her while I was out despite her not being able to pay for it. I don’t remember what I ate, but I’m sure I wolfed it down and told my tale of wandering the streets of San Francisco in the rain and the nice lady in the card shop between bites.

Our friends showed up and took us back home. I remember being so wet and cold even in the comfort of the warm car. The chill had settled itself down in my bones. The ride back home was long, there was a lot of conversation that I didn’t participate in, and when we were dropped off at our home, all I wanted to do was go to bed.

We were back in San Francisco the next weekend to pick up our car. I don’t remember how we got there, but it was probably our friends again. When we paid for the repairs and were on our way again, we drove our little orange bug along some of the same streets that I had walked in the rain the weekend before until we found that little card shop. When we walked in, mom was sitting behind the counter again and she looked at me as if she should know me but couldn’t quite recall where she’d seen me before. I must have looked quite a bit different not all soaking wet.

I walked up to her and thanked her once again for cashing the check a week before. She clasped her hands to her face and started talking to the two of us as if we were old friends. She told us how she went home that night a week before and told her own husband about me, how I had walked into the little store all wet and shivering, how I needed help, and how she somehow knew in her heart that I was truly in trouble and needed help and not just another transient looking for a handout. And even if she was wrong about me, it was only ten dollars. That must’ve been that look of doubt I saw as I left the week before. She told us that her husband trusted her judgment on the matter, and that she usually wouldn’t do such a thing.

She seemed surprised that Kelley and I were there, but then she didn’t seem surprised at all. It was almost as if she had been expecting us. It was a strange, but wonderfully warm feeling.

I wonder if she remembers that random act of kindness that meant so much to the two of us when we really, really needed it. It was such a little thing for her to do, but it was huge to us. I’m sure that somewhere in her own life, someone did something for her that seemed so small and insignificant to the giver but made an enormous difference to her. I’m sure that something was done for her that made her take a step back from life in big San Francisco and remember what kindness to and for humanity means.

So why bring this up now, some 27 years later?

Because I often find myself thinking cynical thoughts about people, and about humanity in general. I wonder how people can treat each other the way they do sometimes. I question my own belief in the goodness of people. I find myself doubting that people really do care about each other, unless there is something to be gained by doing so. I forget about mom in that little card shop who took a check from a total stranger and handed over ten dollars without hesitation. Did she expect anything in return? Nope. She just had a feeling and acted on it.

Well, something happened this week. Something happened that made me remember that kind lady in the little card shop in San Francisco. Something happened that makes me remember what kindness to and for humanity means.

I saw this on Facebook and it was posted by Kelley’s sister, Kristy. It was about her husband Jim. This is how I understand the story:

Jim and Kristy were on their way home after being sent home from work, navigating treacherous roads covered by snow, and they came across a woman and her son at an auto parts store. The woman and the son had walked there in extreme cold, and the child was horribly sick. Jim, not knowing anything about these two people, put them in his truck, drove them along those nasty snow covered roads to urgent care, and even gave the mom his phone number, just in case they needed another ride home after they received treatment.

I have met Jim only once, but I have known Kristy for a long time. I know her ability to love is strong and enormous and pure, and it doesn’t surprise me in the least that she would be with this man who is capable of such an act of random kindness. I know some of that ability comes from her, and some of her kindness skills come from him. It was a simple enough thing, but I’m sure it meant the world to that mom and her young child at the time. It was done in the same spirit that a ten dollar bill was handed over to a soaking wet young man years ago. Pure kindness given and nothing expected in return.

Opportunities for such acts are all around us, all we have to do is look. It’s not always easy, and it’s not always convenient, but little things can mean so much to someone who is in need. I had such an opportunity this very afternoon, but I failed to act. It would have taken only a few minutes I’m sure, but I went on my way, trying to get to an office before they closed.

I had just left Wal-Mart and as I was driving out of the parking lot I noticed an elderly lady searching for her car. I thought about stopping to offer some assistance, but it was almost 4:30. I left the lot and before I turned the corner down the street, I looked in my rear view mirror to see if she had located her car. She hadn’t. I went to the office building where I needed to go but couldn’t get her out of my thoughts. What would it have hurt if I had taken the few minutes and gave her aid? Would it have made that much difference if I showed up and the office was closed? Was my meeting all that important anyway? I missed an opportunity and I feel as though I don’t deserve another one, since I managed to squander this one away.

I believe that we are given these opportunities sparingly, and if we don’t make the best of them, they dry up or maybe we’ll stop recognizing them when they present themselves before us. I feel ashamed that I thought my time was too valuable this afternoon. What if she wandered out there for 20 minutes or so? It was cold today. What if she slipped and fell on the ice? I can “What if” all day long, I guess. I learned a long time ago that if I sit around thinking “I shoulda done this” or “I shoulda done that” that nothing gets done and all I end up doing is shoulding all over myself. Not a very elegant way of thinking, but it packs a punch… at least to me.

What is really hard to swallow is that I am not the guy I was today. A few minutes spent might have meant the world to her at the time. I don’t go through life looking for little old confused ladies in parking lots, or mothers with a sick son in auto parts stores, or a cold and wet young man trying to cash a check… who does? But I do like to think that when I see an opportunity to help, I won’t turn my back and look the other way. What if mom in the card shop, or Jim had turned the other way?

I believe that as we look for these opportunities, we will find them. They are all around us. But they are like everything that we take for granted in the world; we tend to not notice them unless we find a reason to look for them. It’s like when you buy a new car. You may have noticed one or two of that kind of car before you bought it, but now they’re all over the place, right? It’s the same thing with these chances to do something truly meaningful. Unless our hearts are in the right place, unless we understand that our need to make that appointment or get home for dinner isn’t really all that important, and unless we open our eyes and look, we’re likely to pass on by and not make the most of what has been handed to us, an opportunity to make a difference in someone’s life and not ask for anything in return.

So tonight I think about that lady in the parking lot. I’m sure she found her car. Maybe someone else helped her. Maybe she spotted it just after I made that right turn at the corner and went on my way. I sure hope so.

I remember mom from the card shop 27 years after she offered me some much needed kindness and asked for nothing in return. I don’t really wonder if that mother who was with her sick child will remember that nice man who gave them a lift when they really needed one 27 years from now. Somehow, I think they will. Today I had a chance to maybe make a huge difference in an old lady’s life, and I lost it.

Man, I really hope I don’t make that mistake again. With mom’s and Jim’s examples to help guide me, I don’t think I will.