Day 668: A very good samaritan

I saw this video on my friend’s amazing blog and it moved me to tears. What an inspiring everyday hero.

It made me wonder what I would have done in his situation… move away to avoid the responsibility? Be afraid to reach out to the person in need? At least try to help someone? What do you think you would do?

Day 667: Pianos are grand

“Play me a song, you’re the piano … lady.”

You may notice I skipped over Day 666 … sorry, creeped me out, lol.

I meant to post this last week but got sidetracked, so I apologize … I took this photo coming back from a work conference in Minneapolis. Now, I don’t have the kind of job where I get to go to many work conferences… in fact this was my first one. Ever. … and it all happened last minute, so I was a tad stressed out over the whole thing, to say the least.

Add to that, my ineptitude in booking my flights (which resulted in me almost not having a ticket home!) and the basic stress of going through airport security, and I was more than a little tense on my return trip. … In fact, I was fully prepared to kiss the ground when I landed back in Canada.

There was one glowing bright spot to the trip home, however. I came through the airport luggage x-ray contraption where your bags … and shoes … get scanned, and as I scrambled to zip up my suitcase, make sure I still had my passport, and put my sock feet into my boots, I heard the most beautiful music.

I stumbled into the open area and, like an angel greeting you at the Pearly Gates, a lovely lady sat at a grand piano playing a classical concerto. It was so peaceful and calming, I wanted to throw my arms around her.

I refrained however, and scrambled to find some change to leave in whatever tip receptacle  I could find. All I found, however, was a small sign explaining that she wasn’t a grand-piano-toting busker, but a volunteer.

So instead of rushing to my gate, I took a deep breath and waited until she was finished her piece. Then I walked over and thanked her and told her she played beautifully. Which she did.

Amazing what a little music at just the right time can do….

Day 665a: A sweet lesson on patience

Photo: Mine.

I’ve been wanting to share other people’s stories of giving (or receiving) acts of kindness and stumbled upon this beautiful story tonight and wanted to share it.

It’s a true story from a former taxi driver named Kent Nerburn (he explains its origins here). I hope it warms your heart as it did mine.

“We may not all live holy lives, but we live in a world alive with holy moments.” — Kent Nerburn

A sweet lesson on patience

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy’s life, a life for someone who wanted no boss. What I didn’t realize was that it was also a ministry.

Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, and made me laugh and weep. But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.

I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partyers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town.

When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation.

Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a minute”, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’

‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’

‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice. I

looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice..’The doctor says I don’t have very long.’

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. ‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired.Let’s go now’.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I

opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.

‘Nothing,’ I said

‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.

‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life.. I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.

What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

Day 665: There’s a rainbow always after the rain

I was wandering around the interweb, as we do, and I came across this lovely story of a random act of kindness on a Harry Potter fan Tumblr of all places (yes, I am wild about Harry). Since it was also rainy here today, I thought I’d share:

I’m knackered! Went to the city with my mother to do some thiiiiings and on the train home a random guy offered me an umbrella:

Random guy: Excuse me, would you like an umbrella?

Me: Um, ok?

Random guy: Yeah, I was giving them out to some homeless people and I still have two left, and it’s about to rain.

Me: Oh! Oh, thank you very much! *thinking* omg you perfect man let me love you.

I didn’t have a hood on my coat or anything so it really came in handy on the walk home, I’d be doubly exhausted and beaten up by the pounding sheets of rain and awful wind, damn you British weather.

And my good deed today? I took a minute to talk to the person who worked outside my office building on this cold, wet day, filling planters with flowers (pictured up top). I told her how beautiful they looked and complimented her on a job well done… maybe she would’ve preferred an umbrella.

p.s. Song for a rainy day (vid credit: crizamgb). Enjoy!

Day 664: Kodak moments

Source: ifoundyourcamera.net

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Have you ever lost your camera on vacation and thought all those memories were lost for good?

Not gonna lie to you, the odds are not in your favour. BUT I came across an amazing site that has reunited quite a few people with their lost cameras, memory cards and photos.

So I thought I’d take some time today and browse through the site to see if I recognized anyone. How cool would it be, I thought, if I spotted someone I know and was able to call them and say, “Hey, I found your lost honeymoon shots!” or “You can now relive that trip to Gananoque!”

Sadly, I did not recognize anyone. (Although the couple from McKinney, Texas, looked awfully familiar.)

But you might! At the very least, you get a vicarious trip around the world — Paris, Hawaii, even Toronto!

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Day 663: Rainy days and Mondays

Returning someone’s mis-delivered mail isn’t usually that challenging of a good deed … unless the person has a dog that barks like it’s about to jump out and have you for lunch (which has happened to me) … or unless, like today, it’s freezing and half-raining, half-snowing, and all-around miserable.

The mailbox is right across the street so I admit it momentarily flashed across my mind to simply write “Wrong Address” on the envelopes and toss them in.

But that seemed, well, wrong.

So I  braved the elements, set out down the street to find the number on the envelopes and deposited them in their mail slot.

I’m happy to report, no rabid dogs in sight… this time.

P.S. I found the lovely photo above here, along with this beautiful song, “Yesterday I Heard the Rain,” sung by Tony Bennett & Alejandro Sanz. Bet you were expecting this song. Enjoy!

Day 662: Money talks

My niece gave me the idea for today’s deed. She has two part-time jobs in addition to her full-time studies and both jobs involve working with cash and making change.

She told me that occasionally she’ll come across bills with writing on them. Sometimes someone’s name, or “Happy Birthday” or a random number and that they’re fun to find — like coming across a secret note or message.

So she wanted to “pay it forward” by writing a cheery message on random bills now and then and mixing them in with the rest of her bills. I love this idea and decided to “borrow” it.

I didn’t feel bold enough to write in pen, however, so I found a dark pencil (on the outside chance someone might object to scribbles on their cash) and jotted down the note you see in the picture above.

Then at church today, I put this $5 bill in the collection basket. My hope is that whoever volunteers to count the parish’s collection gets a smile out of finding it.

p.s. This video made my day. Enjoy!