Three young students, probably aged 13 or 14, came and stood by my table. I figured they were waiting for me or someone else to leave so they could sit.
Wrong.
I looked up and the shortest of the trio smiled awkwardly.
“Hi,” she said. “I know we’re interrupting your lunch … but we’re conducting a survey.”
“About what?”
“About teenagers in society.”
Which seemed a little broad in scope. So I prodded further. “And what exactly about that are you surveying?”
“We are doing a study on whether teenagers today show kindness to others. So we want to know your views and whether you have witnessed any kind acts.”
This recent weather calls to mind a trip years ago, when the family and I were scheduled on a flight out of Newark to Washington, DC.
That day, it rained. And rained. And rained some more. Some might say the rain was mild compared to what’s happening now, but the impact was no less dramatic.
The Airport was chaos; all flights were cancelled, passengers were frazzled and staff were overwhelmed. We were presented with the option of staying somewhere – no guarantees of a room anywhere – overnight and hopefully get a flight out the next morning, or taking the train.
We chose the train. There was a mad dash to get to the station where, by some miracle, there were five seats left on the train leaving in 17 minutes.
The train arrived and we boarded, after some fumbling with the luggage, with no idea where these miraculous five seats were. We eventually found two seats in one carriage, with one seat in another. The problem was, the two seats were single ones.
Ordinarily, The Man and I would have had no problems sitting separately. But a three-hour journey with a six-year-old? Separated from either parent? With one parent in another carriage? Not an ideal situation.
I plonked The Munchkin into the nearest vacant seat, and prepared to ask if anyone minded swapping seats, beginning with the occupant of The Munchkin’s companion seat. Then the train started moving. And I heard a voice.
“Need a seat together, do you?”
Well, yes please, but who spoke? Several rows down, a gloved hand waved. And a tall man heaved himself out of his seat.
“Well, come on, then. Come sit here so I can go sit over there.”
So the seat swap took place and The Munchkin and I sat together all the way to Union Station.
I will forever be thankful to this complete stranger who made all the difference on this journey. I thanked him then, and I’ll say “thank you” again now.
Many, many moons ago, The Tiny Tot was presented with a 12-in-1 type of baby’s toy. You know, the type where you slot shapes, bang at 5 musical slats, twirl coloured balls, and count wooden beads? The toy was meant to be educational, stimulating, challenging and all things good for the baby’s cognitive development, coordination and such.
The Tiny Tot was having none of it. He went for the box.
He sat in the box, made appropriate noises and said it was car. He swiped his spoon alongside it and said it was a boat. He held a kitchen towel roll core in front of it and said it was a tank. He beat it with his spoon and said it was a drum.
He put the box on its side, climbed in and said it was his house. He put it upside down, sat before it and said he was at school.
He put the box on Grandpa’s back and said Grandpa was a turtle.
The toy sat neglected in the corner.
And The Tiny Tot’s parents learnt to see the world through eyes that saw out of the box.
Some years ago, I sustained an injury that required walking temporarily with a cane for balance and support. With my usual impeccable sense of timing, I was booked on a cruise that would be sailing during this recovery period.
I had two obvious choices – cancel or proceed with cane. The family (and the doctor) felt a cruise was leisurely enough for me to manage, provided I was careful during embarking and disembarking. So off we went.
My movements were slower than I would have liked and stairs were unfriendly obstacle courses, but the relaxed atmosphere made mobility less of an issue than I had feared. Until the buffet line.
I don’t remember how I ended up separated from the family but there I stood before the row of serving dishes, wondering how I would hold onto my cane, my plate and dish my food.
“Did you want the chicken or the beef?”
Young Lady Passenger spoke from behind me, smiling cheerfully. “Chicken? If you pass me your plate, I’ll get it for you.”
I remember staring at her, startled into silence. She must have thought I was really, really slow. Which I was, obviously, in more ways than one.
“What else, Auntie? You want veggies? Pasta?”
I protested that I could manage and that she should get her own food but, nope. She heaped my plate, and then left the line to carry the plate all the way to my seat.
I have never forgotten that act of kindness and unselfishness. If you happen to be reading this, know that I remain extremely humbled and grateful. Thank you.
I came across this Reading Corner at the airport, of all places.
Intrigued, I wanted to inspect the titles and savour this joyful moment of discovering such a corner in an airport. First, however, I wanted to take a photo to prove I wasn’t hallucinating.
But as I lifted my camera, a little poppet galloped towards the shelves, shrieking, “Book! Book!”
I paused. A Reading Corner in a public space with books and a poppet excited by books?
Life had more surprises for me. The father grabbed the poppet. “Meimei, wait. Let the auntie take her photo first.”
It really was too much. I snapped the photo, thanked the father, waved at the poppet and retreated.
Inspecting book titles can wait. Celebrating this little vignette cannot. I am warmed by a father’s kind understanding and gracious patience, and a tiny child’s enthusiasm for books. And by the use of potential retail space for encouraging reading.
Dad:Â Â Â An outfit we wear when we pretend to be somebody else.
Son:Â Â Â Like at Halloween?
Dad:Â Â Â Yes.
Son:Â Â Â Like Superman?
Dad:Â Â Â Yes.
Son:Â Â Â Which is his costume? The cape clothes or the ordinary clothes?
Dad:Â Â Â The cape clothes. He only wears that when he needs to rescue somebody. The rest of the time he’s in ordinary clothes, like us.
Son:Â Â Â But doesn’t he wear cape clothes all the time? Cos when he changes, he doesn’t have a bag. So they must be under the ordinary clothes.
Dad:Â Â Â Okaa-aay. You have a point.
Son:Â Â Â So his ordinary clothes are his costume, right? To hide the fact he’s Superman? He’s pretending to be ordinary?
Dad:Â Â Â Well, yes. He probably doesn’t want everyone to know who he really is.
Son:Â Â Â Why? He’s a good guy, right? Why does a Superhero want to pretend to be ordinary?
Dad:Â Â Â So that he can do his job better. And be among the people he can help.
Son:Â Â Â So when you go to work in your suit, are you pretending to be somebody else? Cos you said you like your shorts.
Dad:Â Â Â That’s my office attire. It’s like your school uniform – you need to wear a certain set of clothes at a certain time so people know who you are. That’s not pretending.
Son:Â Â Â Huh. So, what about a birthday suit? Is that a costume too?
1kindness2day 
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