Kindness: A Dropped Glove

It's been bitterly cold here this past week. Like, in the teens and twenties with negative wind chills. Accordingly, people have piled on the layers, the scarves, the hats, the gloves...the gloves. There are hundreds, thousands of single gloves and mittens all over the city, all separated from their other half (see my other blog). There was a close call on the bus the other day.

I use my commute time to read. A lot. I'm usually totally zoned out until I look up and am surprised to see that we're at my stop. Such was the case last week. I was on the second leg of my commute home after a long day at work. The bus had just pulled up at the station, and I was lucky enough to grab a single seat. I was back into my tome, Vanity Fair, an 800-page serial collection that my book club decided to read (we were on a literature kick and may have been overly ambitious in our epic selection).

So I was getting back to it, trying to pay close attention to all the crazy characters and events in the book, trying to keep everything straight and keep up with the story, when a cute family got on the bus. Two little kids with their mom, and, by little I don't mean baby-young, but elementary-aged kids that were just super-petite, small. Cute stuff. They sat in the double-row across from me, tired after, presumably, a day at school and an after-school program. Shortly thereafter, a woman took the seat in front of me. All this I was vaguely aware of out of the corner of my eye as the other eye continued to read. As the woman got settled, I saw something flash by. maybe drop. But maybe it was just her arm, going up and down, adjusting her hat. So I kept on reading.

Nothing happened for a little while. I kept reading. Slowly, quietly, the little girl from across the row got up. In her slightly-too-big pink coat, she walked up to the woman and tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me," she said and, pointing to the ground beside her, "your glove." Hardly even a sentence. But, out of all the people sitting around the woman on the bus, the little girl was the only one who bothered to say something to her. To help her stay warm. To make sure that her gloves were not half-a-pair, but a full one.

It was almost a tan leather glove entry for my other blog. But with the help of a soft little voice, it wasn't.

Kindness: A Blind Man

There's a homeless man that hangs out near the subway stop near my office. He sits inside, by the window with his cart of who-knows-what. Sometimes he eats Little Debbie honey buns. Sometimes he has a cellphone plugged in, recharging. Sometimes he's asleep. He's often asleep. He doesn't really talk to anyone.

He seems to be losing his sight. He has a cane - like a old man cane with the curved top. But it's also white and red - like a blind man's cane.

One day last week I noticed he was missing. His cart was there, but he wasn't. Strange. So I continued on my way to the train - down the escalators, down the steps. I was reading my book, waiting on the outbound platform as the inbound train pulled into the station. After it pulled away, I heard tapping. I looked up and there he was. Scanning his way down the platform.

Maybe he'd ridden the train somewhere. Or maybe he'd just been sitting on a bench and decided to get up as the train left. Either way, he was on the move now. Slowly making his way toward the middle of the platform. He kept banging his cane against the tiled wall of the station, feeling his way along.

One of the (scarce) subway station workers walked up to him. Talked to him. Presumably asked him where he was trying to go. He said the elevator. So she took his arm, lead him up the handicapped ramp and pushed the up button on the elevator. She left him there as the doors opened. He made his way cautiously in after the ping of the elevator's arrival. As the doors slowly closed, I wondered how he'd figure out what buttons to push once inside. Since the blindness seemed to be more recent than not, I was pretty sure he didn't know braille. But I guess he figured it out and made it upstairs to be reunited with his cart.

Now, maybe subway workers are required to help handicapped people, whether they ask for aid or not. But, in my experience, they don't, or I don't see it. Unless it's grudgingly, and I mean sighing and muttering, helping a wheelchair onto the bus/train.
So, I'm calling this one an act of kindness. Even is it's expected.

Kindness: Standing up for Tourists

Last week, I was taking the T into town. To work. The second stop on the trip is at a museum. There's not a whole lot else at that stop, so when people get on or off the subway there, they're usually tourists.

That morning, two people got on from that stop, a middle-aged mom and her teenage daughter. The train was kind of full, but not packed. The mom found a single seat in the front of the car, and the daughter stood up near the middle.

A woman, probably mid-twenties, was sitting by herself in a double-seater row. She noticed the two get on. She saw them separate on the train. She stood up and offered the two seats to the tourists. They declined, but she insisted. Which in itself was super-nice because it's not as if the teenager and mom were incapable of sitting apart or standing. They finally, graciously accepted the seats.

They pulled out a map and were looking over it. They seemed to have a rough idea of where they were going and how to get there. The woman who vacated her seat stepped over to help them again. The T, especially the green line, is a little tricky as it goes west. So she helped them plan their trip. To get where they wanted to go.

Just a little morning kindness to start the day.

Kindness: At the Subway Station

Every morning you commute into work in one way or another. Maybe you drive your car, maybe you ride your bike or maybe you take public transit. And there are those people you always see - the couple that runs up to the bus stop with just seconds to spare; the familiar black Volvo that pulls into the parking deck the same time as you; the tall, jolly-looking guy that gets on the same subway car every morning.

Before I got married, I lived near a major subway stop. Down in the station, there are the usual gate agents and ticket machines. But are were also a small scarf stand, a magazine / newspaper stand and a man selling the charity newspapers (here, we call them Spare Change).

As you take the towering escalators downstairs, you can see the Spare Change guy, Harold, at the bottom, smiling, quietly peddling his livelihood. He’s homeless and trying to work for what little money the job can provide him. This Christmas, a few people who regularly ride the commuter rail at that station started talking. They decided to pool some money as a gift for Harold. They got their co-riders in on it. And they were able to give him about $300. He was so surprised and incredibly grateful for the generous gift. He was able to buy a new winter coat, which is great because it’s been an extra-cold winter so far. It’s amazing what people can do when they get together with kindness in their hearts.

Another kind act at the station came from Al, the newspaper salesman. He sells papers and such to the commuters as they rush by in the mornings. The Haitian earthquake this week was an awful event for an already-destitute nation. So Al decided to take up a collection; he put out a jar to help with the relief effort that’s just now beginning. Kindness initiated by one man a world away from the heat and destruction, up in the snowy calm of New England.

*note: These two guys’ stories are not first-hand, but were relayed to me by a co-worker this morning.

Kindness: Strollers + Buses

It's actually one of the things I run into more often than
other things. Kindness things, that is. It's something that's necessitated by living in the city and relying on public transportation. It's one of the things I loathe to have to deal with, which is why I don't plan to have kids in the city.

Daily, I see women on the T, both buses and subways. These women, maybe mothers, maybe nannies, are wrestling with baby carriages - highly accessorized strollers, fancy prams, technically advanced push chairs. Some buses and T-cars are easier to negotiate than others. Their floors are only a small step up from the ground; some of the buses even 'kneel.' Then there are the other, older bus and T-cars, the ones that are high-up, that are tall. There are three or four steps you have to ascend in order to get to the seating. This is fine, if you're young, healthy, unencumbered. But if you are older, have a disability or have a bunch of bags, you're gonna have a challenge. That goes for ladies with strollers, too.

I can only imagine that their hearts drop slightly when an older bus pulls up to the bus stop. They know what they're in for. They're gonna have to tote the stroller up the stairs - the narrow, tall stairs. And I'm willing to bet that the stroller isn't the lightest thing in the world, especially with a kid, the giant diaper bag and everything else on board.

The other day, I caught the bus home after work. There was a large group of people waiting, including a mom with a carriage. One of the guys waiting in line tried to help her take it up the front steps, but they couldn't make it up the narrow pathway, so then they had to go to the back door. Later, when she got to her stop, the same guy jumped up to help her get off the bus, too. It was so nice of the guy to not just help the woman once, but twice. To take the initiative and help make her life easier.

Kindness: Bend the Rules

A week or so ago, I made some really excellent after-Christmas sale purchases at an outlet mall south of here. I wanted some jeans and a few other things. And I needed a basic, white, long-sleeved t-shirt. I usually get a new one every year (to wear under sweaters and such) and see no need to pay full price for something so basic. So I found one on sale.

I wore it once. I washed it. I took it out of the dryer. With a large wad of white thread. The entire hem had come out of the back. I thought about trying to re-hem it. But I haven't learned how to do that yet on knits. It would never look the same. So I decided to try to take it back.

I went down to the mall on my lunch break. I walked up to the store counter and showed the sales associate the damage. She looked up the shirt in the computer, planning to give me credit to re-purchase at a later time (they were out of stock). But it wouldn’t come up; the computer couldn’t find it. Then she looked harder at the tag and spotted something. She realized it was from an outlet, not a main store. Now, I wasn’t sure about the return policy for outlet v/s regular store, but I thought it was worth a shot. Especially since the outlet was an hour away and who knew when I would be there next. Within the 30-day window? Unlikely.

While she was sorrowfully telling be that they cannot accept outlet returns at that store, the computer kicked in. It recognized the shirt. It pulled up the info on it, price and all. And with that, she must have thought, “why not?” and decided to do the return anyway. Which was really awesome of her. She totally didn’t have to do that. I didn’t feel bad since it was exactly the white t-shirt they sell in the stores, just sent to the outlet. Saved me a t-shirt and a car trip. I was very thankful for her unexpected kindness.

Kindness: Food for Homeless. Rejected.

On Friday night, Husband and I went out to dinner at a smokey-pit barbecue place. We waited a while and then stuffed our faces with tasty food. They even threw in a free appetizer. Because of the serving sizes, the pre-meal cornbread, the free app, we had leftovers. Mostly meat - ribs, sausage, pulled pork - and a dollop of potato salad.

It was snowing and we took the T as close as we could to our house. And then set off to walk 15 more minutes. Near the subway exit, we came across a homeless man, sitting on a crate, bundled up in the shelter of a storefront overhang. Husband and I looked at each other, and he approached the man. Asked him if he wanted some leftovers. Still warm. Very tasty. He politely declined, saying he was fine. Strange, but maybe he had just eaten at the soup kitchen and was hunkered down for the night. We walked on.

In the same block we came to another homeless person; a woman asking for spare change. We offered her the food. She asked what it was. We said mostly meat, ribs. She shook her head and said she was French Canadian. Not sure how that had anything to do with not wanting the food. Then she amended it to say she was a vegetarian. Well, that makes more sense. But she still wanted spare change for a sandwich. Not sure you could get a very filling sandwich with no meat. So we walked on.

Maybe we should have given her money anyway, but her answers seemed to signal that maybe it wasn't going to go toward food anyway. Possibly, but we thought no.

Sometimes kindness isn't always gladly accepted.

Kindness: Bone Marrow Registry

About a year and a half ago, the wife of a friend of a friend got leukemia.

In college, I was friends with the husband. Not super-close, but we ran in the same circle since he was good friends with my best friend. He married the wife in the spring I think, and by late summer, they had a diagnosis. She'd been tired and lost weight. But they thought it was due to the wedding planning and stress etc. But it wasn't. It was cancer. She's doing well now. Not sure what the treatment was in general, but she's on long-term medication that's keeping it in remission.

Now, I'm not sure I actually met her, well, maybe once. But she was the wife of a friend of a friend. And she was my age. And she was a newlywed. And I was engaged. And it just put things in perspective a little bit. It's not that I thought I was invincible; far from it. But you don't really think about getting cancer at our age. Old person cancer, Yes. Childhood cancer, Yes. Early twenties newlywed cancer, No. You just don't think about it; I don't think about it at least. So it was something that made an impact on me.

When I heard about what happened, I wished there was something I could do. But there wasn't really much to be done - pray. But I also did a little research. And looked into getting on the bone marrow donor registry. I did some reading, but things looked complicated and time-consuming should I be chosen to donate. So it went to the back-burner.

More recently, I was talking to a new friend who is a nurse in an oncology department at one of the hospitals in town. I'm not sure how we got on the topic, but she and her husband were new members on the bone marrow registry. So I asked her some questions about donating. Apparently, it's not as time consuming and difficult to donate as I thought. So it went back into my consideration set.

Last Friday, I walked through the mall downstairs on the way to my office (my office tower entrance is inside the mall - between Arden B and Levenger). In the central court of the mall was an empty kiosk. No one was there, but there were signs for bone marrow donation registry sign-up. I made a mental note to come back by at lunch. Which I did. There was a lady in a blue wig trying in vain to stop passers-by and get them to sign up for the registry. As I made a beeline for the desk, they seemed a little surprised. I'm not sure how effective the blue wig had been. I filled out a form. I did a quick cheek swab and put it in an envelope. I signed on the dotted line. And I registered to donate bone marrow. So if someone needs me to, I can save their life.

I was really excited. Probably because it had been on my radar for quite some time. So when I got back to the office, I sent my friend in HR an email about it. Telling him that a group was set up in the mall registering people. That in Massachusetts your health insurance has to cover the lab costs to get you onto the registry (scan your DNA I guess). So it's free, painless and only takes a few minutes. And I asked him to send out an agency email. Which he did. And several people wrote back really positive responses about registering.

One of my cube-mates went down into the mall later that afternoon to run some errands. She went by the registry to see about signing up. But there was a wait. So many people were down there, she'd have to wait a little bit. Now, I'm not sure that it was people from my office. But it was packed none-the-less.

So, maybe not a direct kindness. One that may come to fruition. Should I get a call and get asked to save a life.

Kindness: Take the newbie out for lunch

This week, I ran into a girl I go to church with. She was at my office. Which was weird because she didn't work here. Until Monday apparently. When she started her new job, unbeknown to me.

I ran into her randomly as she was getting the grand tour of our agency. On a floor that I don't frequent but happened to be having lunch on that day with some friends. I espied her across the room, which was a little hard. She was a little blurry. I need new contacts.

After saying "hi" and "gimme a call later" I got to thinking. We need to catch up. I hadn't talked to her in some time, obviously, since I didn't even know she had interviewed here. But even past that, I thought about how tough / exciting / crappy / fun / nerve-wracking it is to start a new job. About how that first day is always overwhelming.

At my office, we have orientation on the first day which lasts until after lunch, which is nice. Takes up time; gets you acquainted with things. But again, overwhelming. After they drop you off at your desk, you're not quite sure what to do with yourself. Some people may stop by to say hello. Your new boss might come by. But you're probably left on your own. Because everyone is busy with their work. Everyone is overloaded because there was a hole in the team (that you just filled) that they've been covering for for weeks, months. They're too busy to tell you what to do, show you how things work, distribute some of their work to you. So you sit. And organize your desk drawer. Hang up a telephone list. Look through your new-hire binder. And not help out one bit. Not because you don't want to, but because you have no idea what to do or who to ask. And everyone is busy. This might go on for that one afternoon, several days or the whole week. No telling.

And then there is the issue of friends. If you're lucky, maybe you know one or two people. Or maybe you know nobody except the people you interviewed with for 15 minutes which amounts to not much. And maybe, while you like your immediate co-workers, everyone is much older than you (or younger) and you don't have much in common. Which brings about another newbie issue of lunch. Do you eat at your desk? Do you grab something and come back? Do you eat alone in the nearest Subway? It's a toughie.

Which is why I asked her to lunch. Something I think every new kid would enjoy. To get away from the empty, desolate desk for a while and meet someone new. I'm not saying you have to pay for lunch. Just give a little time. Make a little effort. Make a connection. Maybe you have a lot in common or maybe it's a one-time thing. This one was easy, since we already knew each other. But if you don't know the person, especially if you don't know them, it could brighten their day. It's something nice, something kind in a newbie's first week.

Kindness: Helping an old person cross the road.

The case that set this project in motion was rather cliché, but no matter.

This day happened to be the first big snowfall of the season; I was eating a cozy brunch with Husband and Friends at a restaurant in the neighborhood. An older man walked by the window on our side of the street, and I thought, "that must be tough, walking with a cane on slippery, snowy sidewalks." I guess he turned around at some point, since I later noticed him across the street, walking in the other direction.

At first he was walking on the sidewalk. But then he decided to take on the road. (Note to southerners - sometimes you walk on the side of the road during snow because it's clearer than the actual sidewalk.) He progressed slowly up the block. Eventually he stopped. Maybe to catch his breath. Maybe to take in the scenery. Maybe to cross the road. Or so thought a college-age girl walking up the sidewalk near him.

She passed him, and then she turned back. She spoke to him. He made some motions. Toward the corner of the street. She then shifted her shopping bag to her left arm and took his arm with her right. She peeped around parked cars to look up and down the street. She held her hand out to slow an oncoming car and they began to slowly make their way across the snowy street. One step at a time. One moment of kindness at a time. Until they reached the other side and made their way up the sidewalk.

Up to the corner where I lost sight of them.

The Idea

So, I was eating brunch with my husband and friends at a neighborhood restaurant a week or so before Christmas when I spied something out the window. Something kind of amazing in a not-so-everyday sort of way. It was something that you'd think would be more common. Something that you like to believe is out there. Something that should be running rampant in daily life, but can be somewhat elusive. Or, at the very least, horribly overlooked. Unnoticed.

Kindness.

Just kindness.

So, I want to document it. Kindness, I mean. Look for it. Notice it. Participate in it. It's not a look at how nice I am sort of thing. It's a do-the-right-thing thing, the kind thing, and see what happens. I was thinking about doing something of note every day myself, but decided that's too forced, too contrived. So, it'll just be what I see others do. What kindnesses come spontaneously into my life. Others' lives. Maybe it'll inspire people to live a considered day, week, life.