Reports of its demise are greatly exaggerated – Kindness

The taxi driver opened my door and as I stepped out, placed the 4 shopping bags beside me, thanked me for the tip and drove away.

 I looked up. It might just as easily have been Mt. Everest as the path to my apartment!  74 footsteps up the path and then 18 stairs to climb before I could put the key in my door. (Yes – I had counted them when my physical therapist and I first began to walk outside) I was exhausted.  

 When I retired, I found that I loved food shopping. I took my time and tried new foods. I lingered over the fresh fruit and vegetables and chatted with other customers doing the same. But a massive heart failure 11 months ago put a stop to my shopping and now it is delivered. A stranger selects my items without the care and pleasure I took and there is never a complete order and poor substitutes. And so, I decided to do it myself, doctor’s orders be damned!

It felt so good at first. But as I pushed my cart, reaching up and bending over to   put items in the metal basket, it became apparent that this was not a good idea. I finished hurriedly, stopping only to get the babka I had been dreaming about (not available on the delivery menu).

Now I was home – sort of. A cane and shoulder bag took up one arm. Assuming one heavy bag at a time I would need to make four trips to get my groceries in the door. Then unpack and put away at least the frozen and cold items. What had I been thinking? I could not catch my breath…

“Miss”, I heard her calling. “Just wait right there. “We will be right over.”  

I had never seen her before. A tall slender woman with a little girl was getting out of her car a few doors away. She hurried over and smiling, took two of the bags and began to walk up the path. “Wait,” I yelled. “You don’t have to do that. I can manage!” 

She laughed.

“Stubborn. Just like my mother. I want to do it.” 

With the grace and speed of an Olympic athlete she was up and back for the second load, instructing the little girl to carry a bottle of soda that was falling out of the bag.

“Give me your key so we can put the bags in the kitchen.”

I froze. She laughed.        

I reached for my keys and took out my wallet.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said. “This is such a blessing! And I don’t even know your name!”

“Gwen,” she said. “And this is my daughter, Jeannie.”  

“I’m Carole,” I said. “I think you must be an angel.”

She grabbed my hand as I began reaching for a five-dollar bill. “Now, don’t ruin it,” she said. “Pay it forward somehow.”   

She turned, took her daughter by the hand, waved and was off.   

A few days later I was standing in the waiting room of my cardiologist, having had yet another conference regarding test results and tests yet to be taken. It is always a frightening experience.

He is a kind man but does not have much of a sense of humor. I always try to lighten the visits with a bit of laughter. And he has a hard time understanding that I am a Solo Ager, always asking who is with me and who helps me at home.

When I tell him there is no one he looks at me with disbelief and drops the conversation. I am a visitor from another planet! It is frustrating.

I called the taxi company and was told it would be about a half hour until they could pick me up. It would be a very long 30 minutes.

I looked around for a seat that was not surrounded by other people. I was not in the mood for small talk or jokes about heart attacks.

A middle-aged woman with an older woman I supposed was her mother smiled and approached me.

“Are you ready to go home,” she asked. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

I told her I was waiting for my cab.

“Oh no! You can’t be doing that! I know you want to get home! Come with us. I can drive you home and you can keep us company.” 

I was stunned.

“Where do you live?” I asked.

She told me the name of her town. It was at least half an hour in the other direction.

“That is so far away from you. I can’t inconvenience you that way. But thank you so much for the offer.” 

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “We want to do this. Come on. My car is right out front”. She gently took my arm while her mother smiled.  

Her name was Sarah and her mother was Marion. Mom was 98 and still lived in her own home. Her daughters lived nearby and stopped in every day. All three of them were nurses! 

We talked nonstop on the way. Travel, favorite TV shows and movies, music. It was as if we had known each other for a long time. When we stopped in front of the apartment, I invited them in but they said another time…had to make dinner.

I offered them money for gas but was refused. They said they had enjoyed our time together.

And that was more than enough.  

And then there is Carl – the taxi driver (not the mean one I mentioned earlier). I try to use senior transportation as often as possible as it only costs $4. But the last stop is at 2:30 and specialists don’t worry about time! And it takes months to get an appointment!

Carl loves to chat and makes doctor visits easier. We have gotten to know a lot about each other during our half hour or longer trips. He had a heart attack six months ago. And he knows the cost of driving to all my visits is very expensive and draining my savings.  

“Carole,” he said a few weeks ago, “It must be emptying your wallet to keep paying the taxi costs.” 

I was surprised and a bit embarrassed. It was.  

“Well,” he said, “I have a proposition, if you don’t mind. I have a granddaughter who has some trouble reading. I know you were an English teacher. If you could help her twice a week for an hour virtually, I could just charge you $4 per ride.”

That was a huge savings!  I said yes. And I really enjoy working with her!

I could go on and on about the acts of kindness I experience every day.

The young neighbor I hardly ever see who stopped by to tell me to put my trash out by the door and he would take it down to the bin for me.      

The mailman who delivers my mail to the door so I don’t have to walk downstairs to get it.

The lady with the world’s cutest little dog who stops for a short visit often so we can talk and Lovebug can play with him (they love one another).

The Chinese food delivery person who always puts a little extra something delicious in the bag.

The maintenance man who stops by to make sure everything is working OK.

The x-ray techs at the hospital who always get a little step stool for me because I am too short to climb up on the bed.

People who see me struggling and offer to help – take my arm for balance or just get me to a chair and sit with me for a bit.

And people I don’t know who just smile and say hello.

I could go on.

I remember the famous line from the Tennessee Williams play, “A Streetcar Named Desire” — “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

I do. And I am sure many other people do too.

KINDNESS!  It is NOT DEAD!  It suffers from a lack of publicity. It is not exciting. You can’t take horrifying pictures of it. It doesn’t make your blood boil or make you feel like you need to buy a gun. It doesn’t sell!! 

Instead it makes life worth living. And isn’t that worth celebrating?