The Kindness of Strangers
And the butterfly effect.
Anyone who has a teenager, or who has ever been one, will know that shit happens. A lot. In spite of the reminders, and the prompts (which used to be called “warnings”) there is often a snowball effect to the dumb crap they do.
This week’s episode of Dumb Crap involved my 15-year-old son getting yet another flat tire on his bike. Like so many living in Central California, we have not been used to the deluge of rainfall this season and the resulting detritus. Like nails. Two flats in two months. Of course we now had a time crunch with his school and soccer schedule so instead of him dealing with it when he had the chance, it now fell on us.
As I was going downtown anyway, my husband loaded the giant electronic behemoth into my SUV and off I went. Seemed easy enough, until I got there and couldn’t get it out. It was wedged. I mean really wedged. The guys who work there were helping other customers and kindly told me they would come out when they got a chance, but I am not the sit around and wait kind of person, not in the “I like to do things myself way”, but more in the “I am just really impatient way”-so I started to unload it myself. Can you see where this is going?
I have always prided myself on my strength, but at almost 56 years old, I discovered I might need to up my resistance training.
Just as I was convinced it would be jammed in there until I returned my lease in 3 years, and I had uttered every cuss word I had learned since being in utero, I heard a gentle voice behind me.
“Do you need some help?” an angel-man on a bike asked.
The polite, stand on ceremony me would have thanked him, and told him that no, I am sure I can get it out or they will come help me or some other nonsense that further disconnects us from humanity. But instead I blurted,
“YES! Thank you so much!!!!!”
And so it began.
Twenty-five minutes of this lovely, kind stranger figuring out ways to de-wedge this twisted mass of metal. He let air out of the front tire (never would have thought of that). He finally took the front tire off (never would have known how to do that). And almost thirty minutes later the bike was out. It was too heavy for me to lift into the store (having a back tire that was completely flat) so he even helped me (meaning, he did it for me) carry it into the store.
Just then I noticed the bike he was on was a bit worse for wear. And it was pulling a small trolley of his things. While he was still in the store, I went and got some cash out of my wallet and when he came out I asked if it would be alright that if that as a thank you, I bought him dinner. He told me that I didn’t have to, and he was happy to help. This was the minute. The minute we synced. The minute I realized what we so often miss in day to day life.
Connecting.
All of us here together just trying to figure it out.
I told him that he helped me when I really needed it and it meant more to me than just getting the bike out of my car. It had been a rough week, I had just lost someone close to me, so I was especially thankful for the kindness. I shared with him that in our society I don’t think we help each other enough and when we do, it should be acknowledged. And this is what he told me.
“Thanks. That will actually help me a lot. I just got out of jail last week and I am homeless.” We talked for about an hour. I learned his story. Which wasn’t a nice one, but in spite of it, he had more hope and kindness in his eyes than his life would have predicted.
When the conversation was winding down, I held out my hand and said, “I’m Deann. I hope things get better for you soon. You really deserve it.” Something in me knew not to press it further. My inclination being to always try to “fix things” for people; one of the many reasons I couldn’t stay a therapist, which involves giving people space to find answers on their own.
“I am K.D. It’s nice to meet you,” he shared as he shook my offered hand and cycled away.
The rest of the day, K.D. and his kindness stayed with me, haunting me as a reminder of how we often unknowingly look the other way. The fire on the news isn’t close to our town. The low-income housing crisis can surely be fixed. My car is a hybrid, that is better than nothing, right?
This isn’t an anecdote about how I ended up getting him a home and a job. Although I wish it was. It is about the kindness of strangers. An old-fashioned expression that needs to be recycled. These random acts of kindness permeate our souls. They make us better people.
Holding open the door when someone’s hands are full, or even when they’re not. Paying for a stranger’s parking in the car behind you.
Or even helping a middle-aged woman get a bike out of her car.
