The Kindness of a Stranger
Over the past thirteen years, I have come to hate my commute from Columbia, Maryland to Dupont Circle, Washington, D.C. I drive Highway 95 South to Greenbelt and take the Metro from there. It takes nearly two hours each way, when everything runs right, which is seldom. Sometimes my fellow beings get on my nerves until I’d like to scream in their faces. Only, I know that I would get arrested and probably spend the night in jail. I don’t know why some of the people who scream in my ear don’t get arrested.
But sometimes people are unexpectedly kind and it’s rather shocking to encounter kindness on my commute. An incident this morning reminded me of how kind people sometimes are. I was reading a book on the train and nearly missed my change-of-trains from the Green Line to the Red Line at Fort Totten. I just made it out the door before it slammed shut. I was so elated at making it – then I saw that three or four people were looking at me through the window and pointing at the seat I had just left. Dismay flooded through me as I realized that my right hand held only the book. My tote bag was in my left hand and my purse should have been in my right. I’d left it on the train and the train was gone.
If you have ever lost your purse or your wallet, you know how I felt at that moment. What to do? It only took a moment to skim over my accusations of self-stupidity – the book wasn’t even that good – and assess the probability that one of those people who pointed out that I’d left my purse would turn it in at the next stop, Georgia Avenue -- Petworth. Sure enough, the attendant there had the purse. After we settled the question of identity, all of which evidence was in the purse, of course, he handed it over and I embraced it gladly, uttering copious thanks. I took the next train back to Fort Totten, changed trains successfully, and didn’t miss my stop at Dupont Circle.
Someone (for some reason, I am quite sure the kindness was the work of a young Black woman who was sitting by the window) took the time and trouble to scoop up my purse and take it up to the kiosk to the attendant. It wasn’t an arduous task but it was one more hassle in a stranger’s day that she didn’t have to undertake. After all, it was nothing to her if I lost my purse. She might quite justifiably have felt that if I couldn’t be bothered to hang onto my belongings, she was not obliged to pick up after me. I am grateful that she decided to give me a break this morning. I wish I knew her name and address so I could send her a thank you note, at least. As it is, all I can do is repeat her kindness when the opportunities arise.
But sometimes people are unexpectedly kind and it’s rather shocking to encounter kindness on my commute. An incident this morning reminded me of how kind people sometimes are. I was reading a book on the train and nearly missed my change-of-trains from the Green Line to the Red Line at Fort Totten. I just made it out the door before it slammed shut. I was so elated at making it – then I saw that three or four people were looking at me through the window and pointing at the seat I had just left. Dismay flooded through me as I realized that my right hand held only the book. My tote bag was in my left hand and my purse should have been in my right. I’d left it on the train and the train was gone.
If you have ever lost your purse or your wallet, you know how I felt at that moment. What to do? It only took a moment to skim over my accusations of self-stupidity – the book wasn’t even that good – and assess the probability that one of those people who pointed out that I’d left my purse would turn it in at the next stop, Georgia Avenue -- Petworth. Sure enough, the attendant there had the purse. After we settled the question of identity, all of which evidence was in the purse, of course, he handed it over and I embraced it gladly, uttering copious thanks. I took the next train back to Fort Totten, changed trains successfully, and didn’t miss my stop at Dupont Circle.
Someone (for some reason, I am quite sure the kindness was the work of a young Black woman who was sitting by the window) took the time and trouble to scoop up my purse and take it up to the kiosk to the attendant. It wasn’t an arduous task but it was one more hassle in a stranger’s day that she didn’t have to undertake. After all, it was nothing to her if I lost my purse. She might quite justifiably have felt that if I couldn’t be bothered to hang onto my belongings, she was not obliged to pick up after me. I am grateful that she decided to give me a break this morning. I wish I knew her name and address so I could send her a thank you note, at least. As it is, all I can do is repeat her kindness when the opportunities arise.
posted by Barbara J. Olexer @ 5:50 AM
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