2 comments/ 2925 views/ 0 favorites Kindness Ch. 02 By: memorable_event Kindness -- Chapter 2 In the last chapter, I asked for readers to send examples of folks who showed them unconditional kindness. As we all know, there are millions of people who work very hard on behalf of others everyday. But then there are those totally unexpected moments, some might call them "random acts of kindness," that happen. These acts show the basic goodness of people, their thoughtfulness that turns into action, and the brotherly love that is not often discussed here or anywhere. Today there are three stories that readers have shared with us. The first story is from Franklinws. Kindness Ch. 03 As noted in the first two chapters, people surprise us many times with unexpected kindness. Although there is plenty of evidence on nightly news that all is not well in the world and that people will rob, cheat and murder you at the drop of a hat, there are also the unseen, unreported thousands of examples where the opposite happens daily. Today, we have three stories from three different readers that I want to share. ReiDeBastos sent this one: One evening when my first wife and I were in our early thirties, we took our three children (ages 5, 7 and 8 years old) out to a local restaurant for dinner. We usually did this a couple of times every month, to various restaurants. I have always been very big on manners (something my mother had instilled in me from a young age), and had passed that tradition down to our kids. They were so unfailingly polite that my wife's family sometimes referred to them as "The Please-and-Thank-You Kids." They knew very well how to behave in a restaurant and waiters and waitresses were often surprised at our kids thanking them when they brought the meal, or filled a glass. Whenever we were at a restaurant and another child behaved badly (yelling, or running between the tables), our three kids would watch that child, with their jaws dropped in disbelief. That evening, the five of us visited and enjoyed our meal. When we were done, I asked the waiter for the bill, but he told me that our bill had already been paid. When I asked who had paid it, he said that it had been paid by the couple who had sat at the table next to ours. They had already left. Uncomfortable with what felt like charity, I hurried out to the lobby of the restaurant in hopes of finding the couple and returning their money. I looked around trying to spot the couple, but frankly, I hadn't paid much attention to what they looked like. Just then, an elderly couple approached me. They told me that they had already been outside the restaurant, but had seen me evidently trying to find them, and had come back in to speak with me. The man first confirmed that they had been the ones who had paid our bill. I thanked them, but when I reached for my wallet to repay them, he stopped me and said something like this: "Frankly, when I saw the hostess seat your family at the table next to ours, I almost asked that my wife and I be moved to a different table, where our meal would not be interrupted by three noisy children." Then he continued, "But we decided to wait for the noise to start before asking to be moved, and we were absolutely amazed at how quiet and well-behaved your children were! It was so pleasant to watch and hear, and we felt so badly for having pre-judged your family, that we decided to pay for your meal." I thanked them, but tried to get them to accept reimbursement, which they politely but firmly declined. My wife and were not poor at the time, and could have easily afforded the meal, but I'll never forget how proud of my children that couple's act of kindness made me. In the couple of decades since then, whenever I am in a restaurant, I have tried to keep an eye out for a young family with well-behaved children seated nearby, so that I can pay their bill, thus paying forward that "elderly" couple's kindness so many years ago; but, sadly, I have yet to spot such a family. Maybe some day! This next story comes from Bob, another reader. Sometimes our child does the kind act. As a kid, my parents raised us pretty much the same way as described by Memorable Event: our clothes weren't the most stylish, but good; toys were not the most lavish, but nice. And we were proud of them! We learned the hard way when we were stubborn-headed about some things through the use of a good hand, belt, or switch (and it better be a good one!). I love my parents for what they done and have tried to do the same with my kids; so far, so good. My story: We were in a local department store when one of my children found a wallet on the floor. Curious to see what would happen, I watched. He opened it up, looked at the driver's license and peeked around to see if he could spot the owner; he didn't. He asked me what to do and I told him let's take it to customer service. They indeed found the owner later on, but I was a proud dad knowing he did the right thing. This next story comes from a reader who wishes to remain anonymous: I was on leave and returning to Memphis from Iraq to see my wife and two children after nearly a year. I'm career Army and had served for almost 18 years when this event happened a few years ago. My plane connections went through Atlanta, as almost all flights into and out of the Southern states seem to do. The Hartsfield-Jackson Airport USO always makes those of us in uniform feel very appreciated and welcomed; and this day was no exception. I had a couple of hours before my connecting flight to Memphis, so after visiting others in the USO room for a while, I headed down to a lobby restaurant. While standing in line, a man waiting behind me thanked me for serving our country and insisted on paying for my lunch. That was very nice and I appreciated it. We talked for a while and I couldn't help but notice an extremely attractive young lady in the next line. She glanced at me several times and smiled. I took the food tray and had a seat at an open table in front of the restaurant. In just a moment, the young lady walked to my table and asked if she could join me. I'm no fool so I insisted she have a seat. I have always been somewhat shy around beautiful women, so I became a bit nervous. Isn't it crazy that I can kill an enemy combatant without a second thought but a beautiful woman scares me? Thankfully, she carried the conversation and I soon relaxed. Turned out she was also on the way to Memphis but she kept the entire conversation focused on me and my family. She wanted to know how it felt to be going home after a year and what I missed the most while I was away. She wanted all the details on my children and my wife. She wanted to know about war and how it affected me and my buddies. After nearly an hour, about the only thing I knew about her was that she was from South Carolina, was drop-dead gorgeous with a personality to go with the looks. I did notice when she laid her boarding pass on the table that she was in seat 2C in business class. I was in seat 30 B, center seat in economy. We walked together through security and to the gate. She went directly to the gate customer service desk while I found a place to stand. All the seats were taken. She did find a seat near the gate door when a smart young man insisted she take his. I was surprised when the gate agent called my name and even more surprised when he gave me a new boarding pass. I was upgraded to business class and assigned to seat 2C. I immediately looked over to the young lady but she was in conversation with the young man. We boarded the plane and I waited impatiently for her to board so I could thank her for such a generous gift. She never boarded. At first, I thought I had just missed her; but, after we were in the air, I walked the length of the plane and couldn't find her. I was very confused and sorry to have never been able to express my appreciation. My lovely wife and children and both sets of our parents met my plane and we had a marvelous and loud reunion at the airport. It felt great to be home, for at least the next thirty days. That night, my wife and I were watching the 11:00 news and there was a report from St. Jude's Hospital about several special visitors who had come to see the young patients. Five of the Miss America contestants had visited there all afternoon. Imagine my shock when the young lady who gave me her seat turned out to be Miss South Carolina. She was interviewed and the reporter mentioned she had a problem getting there. She said she got bumped and had to go on a later flight, which made her an hour late to the hospital. I told my wife the full story and we both cheered for her during the contest later that month. It was not to be, however, but she will always be Miss America in my mind. I think you will agree with me that these are three excellent examples of unexpected kindness being shown to strangers. If you have a story that you could share, please send it to me through the feedback or contact link. I will include it in a future chapter. Also, please vote and comment on this chapter and the other two chapters if you would like to see more of these non-erotic but still "uplifting" postings. Please have a wonderful Christmas and New Year holiday season. GO AUBURN! Make it eight National Champs in a row for the Southeastern Conference! Kindness Ch. 04 This chapter contains two stories of a life-changing nature. In both, people stepped forward and gave of themselves to help strangers that really needed the help. As noted in the other three chapters, kindness is not rare, just under-reported. The purpose of this series is to let readers become writers and tell their stories of unexpected and unconditional kindness. I hope you enjoy and appreciate their efforts. * Of all the acts of kindness I have been fortunate enough to receive, the most dramatic by far happened in 2008-2009. In August of 2008, I experienced a massive stroke in the upper-rear area of the right side of my brain. The doctors told my wife that it was so massive that they were amazed that it had not killed me outright. I spent the following 6-8 weeks in a coma-like state (the doctors insisted that it wasn't a coma, but was merely a "deep sleep". Gee, ya think?) My wife Susan was, of course, beside herself with worry. We had only been married for a little more than a year, and she was not ready to become a widow. She posted about my condition on an online forum where I had been an active member for many years, and was quickly overwhelmed by the dozens and dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of posts of sympathy and concern. Among those posts were many offers of help, both financial and otherwise. While these were perhaps technically not strangers, I only knew them in the virtual world of the Internet, having met only a handful of them in real life at conventions put on by the organization behind the online forum. My wife posted the address where people could send non-monetary gifts and when I awoke from my "deep sleep", I was amazed to find my hospital room flooded with get-well cards, books, balloons and stuffed animals (but not flowers, which were not allowed in the ICU). I had no idea that I even knew that many people, let alone that many people who would be that concerned about my health! My mother and siblings were even more surprised than I, having only vague knowledge of my online friends. Those friends quickly grew impatient with my wife's reluctance to accept financial help with my rapidly mounting medical bills, and continued to post questions about how they could help us in that regard. While our medical insurance (through my wife's employer) was handling my hospital bills, Susan soon began to realize that there would be many long-term expenses related to my condition such as making our home "wheelchair-accessible." I was now a "left-side hemiplegic" - meaning that I had little if any control over the muscles in the left half of my body. The largest of these expenses was the purchase a wheelchair-accessible vehicle in which we could get to my many doctor and therapy appointments! Since I was now physically disabled (fortunately, my mental/cognitive abilities were still very much intact), my employer laid me off after I missed several months of work while in the hospital, and it was not clear whether or not I would be employable ever again. So, when one of the members of that online forum asked Susan's permission to set up a PayPal account where those who still wanted to contribute financially to my medical-related expenses could do so. Susan finally relented and gave her permission. She also made sure that I was comfortable with this, knowing that I might be hesitant to accept any form of "charity." She convinced me that it would be unkind to not let all of my online friends help in a more tangible way than just sending stuffed animals and get-well cards. The PayPal account was set up, and donations began to be accepted by the woman who was administering the account. Susan had learned that it would cost around $20,000 to modify a minivan to make it wheelchair accessible. She asked the woman administering the account how much had come in. We were stunned to learn that people had donated a little over $21,000! We gratefully accepted it, as there was no way we could have come up with that money otherwise. That is how, at the end of my eleven months of post-stroke hospital stay, I was able to drive my motorized wheelchair up the newly-installed ramp of our minivan, and Susan drove us home to our radically-changed life! And radically-changed it certainly was, but we have dealt with that change remarkably well, thanks in no small part due to the kindness of who-knows how many friends and strangers to whom we will remain forever grateful. It has been more than five years now since we got our modified minivan, and hardly a day goes by without our using it to go places I would not otherwise be able to go were it not for the kindness of strangers. This next story is an excerpt from a memoir being complied for the daughters of Celticdavinci. I had just been promoted to captain in the Air Force in June 1967 when I was asked if I would like to attend either pilot or navigator training. I looked at my shoulder and ascertained that it was wide enough to carry at least one star and probably four stars. Wings plus my Harvard degree would put me on the fast track to being a flag officer. Besides, I had been given meaningful work to do and still consider my six years on active duty as the best job I've ever had (other than husband, dad, and granddad). I was going "with the flow", keeping the world safe for democracy and pursuing my avocations of eradicating the twin curses of celibacy and virginity, smoking fine Maduro cigars, and drinking 12 year-old Irish Whiskey (which I still do). I was to report to primary pilot training on Monday, October 23rd at Moody AFB in Valdosta, GA. I fell asleep on a Sunday evening in the VOQ at Maxwell AFB, Montgomery, AL. I have no rational memory of the next 14 days. What I'm about to say has been reconstructed through both accident and medical reports. I was leaving the town of Sasser, Georgia, in my 1963 Cadillac convertible, 2nd in a line of 3 cars accelerating to the speed limit of 65 m.p.h. when a 62 year-old widow from Texas in a 1966 LTD 'ran a stop sign' at 65 m.p.h. and broad-sided the passenger side of my vehicle. My automobile's vector was altered and the Caddy stopped when it hit a mud bank head-on 37 feet from the point of impact. The medical report conjectures that I was "rendered unconscious by striking my head on the driver's window upon initial impact. The subsequent impact led to the driver, while restrained by a seat belt, jack-knifing around the steering wheel and striking the right side of his face on the dashboard. Both his hands went through the windshield." The report goes on to list the 8 fractures of my mandible; 4 fractures of my maxilla; the fracture to my right eye-socket; the fractures of 8 'meta-carpal flanges' (fingers, but not my thumbs); and 6 broken ribs. The jawbone was protruding through the skin. Back to the accident report: The two ladies in the other car fared worse. The driver was pinned in her car by the engine which fractured both legs. Her passenger was thrown from the right rear seat through the windshield and died on the road. The first people on the scene removed me from the Caddy and laid me on the ground. I was having severe problems breathing, described in the medical report as "stentorian". The first policeman (local) who arrived apparently removed my military ID, my Massachusetts driver's license, and my New York registration from my billfold and put them in my shirt pocket. He then put the wallet and my loose change into my briefcase. The second policeman, a GA state trooper, seeing the uniforms, thought I was a military courier and locked my briefcase in the Caddy's trunk. The next arrival of consequence was an Army corpsman, just back from a tour in Vietnam. He had reported to Ft. Benning and was on post-combat leave to visit his family. He stopped to see if he could help and performed triage. The other driver, incessantly screaming with fear and intense pain, was being helped. He knew the passenger was dead, but that I was in respiratory difficulty. He was evaluating me when I stopped breathing. To establish an airway, the corpsman performed an emergency tracheotomy with a rusty can opener and a ball point pen barrel. He hammered my sternum and my heart restarted. He stayed with me until the EMTs arrived. He briefed them about my condition and the action he had taken to restart my breathing. Then he left without revealing his identity. Talk about anonymous service! Was he an angel sent by God? Four months later, while dressed in the hospital-issue pajamas and bathrobe, I went to the cashier's office to pay my maid's fee. While I was standing in the inevitable line, a medic stopped, did a double-take, and then approached me. "Pardon me, by any chance, are you an Air Force Captain?" "Yes, I am." "Who was involved in an accident in Sasser, Georgia last October?" "Yes, I was." Glad you made it, sir!" "Thanks! And the medic walked away before I could read his nametag. I didn't understand the significance of this encounter until I read my medical records in October 1969. To this day, I don't know the identity of my roadside savior. Talk about "anonymous service!" * Thanks to these two readers who volunteered to write their stories of unconditional kindness shown to them. I'm sure there are many others out there that you can contribute. Please send your story to me by using the contact link or the feedback link. Happy New Year to everyone.