In 2000, I was very scared, as I had a serious, chronic health condition and none of my local docs seemed able to help me–each made me worse. I finally flew thousands of miles away to get evaluated. The medical center and specialist there were so caring and nurturing, I have maintained a relationship with them for the past 16 years. Recently, my specialist indicated he was retiring “soon,” so I started hunting around for a new specialist and ended up having about a dozen medical appointments with a whole bunch of docs over a few months.
My favorite specialist told me to come back to see him and had me very thoroughly evaluated and answered all my questions and promised to find me a replacement specialist. I will always be grateful for the care and nurturing I received from him, which has enabled me to live a full and active life and create a nonprofit organization to help others with chronic health issues.
Even very small things can make others really happy. I remember going to Starbucks once, and they were having a buy 1 get one free special, so I got 2. I handed one to a lady in the parking lot, and she just lit up.
This thread reminded me of a friend who passed away several years ago. Every Friday on her way to work, she went through the drive-through at Dunkin Donuts and paid for the order from the car behind her. She made it a point to never look in the rear view mirror to see the expression of the driver behind her.
These are wonderful instances of how we have touched another, indeed, @hayden.
@raclut, I know so well the special attachment you have spoken of with your neighbor and her family. My children have also been deeply impacted by a young couple and their small children, so much so that one of the young children played a central part in my daughter’s college essay.
I know your former neighbor, the mom, will think of you often, and maybe even share stories of you, her friend and neighbor, with all the new friends she makes.
I like to think that what is most true when we have deeply given, or shared, or touched and been touched, are the sentiments expressed in this line from the film version of Indian in the Cupboard: “When I leave you, I take you.”
A few years ago I was at a fast food stand at an airport. The person behind me was a soldier and I turned to him and asked if he was just coming home. He said he was. I smiled and thanked him for his service. When I got up to order I told the cashier that I wanted to pay for the soldier behind me. He was grateful and tried to demur, but I insisted. The person in front of me overheard that and insisted on paying for MY meal! The cashier in turn gave us both a service discount! Good feelings all around.
Over 40 years ago I was interviewing a college applicant who wanted to be a physicist. During our 45 minute meeting, the young man noticed the complete Ricard Feynman lectures, still in their crystal wrapping paper. He said nothing about them. One could see the candy in his eyes.
These books had recently been given to me by a friend. At the end of our interview I asked if he had ever read the lectures. He said no, but that he planned on doing so. I handed him the set, and explained that they had been on my shelf for over a year and that they were likely not to be read on my schedule. This young man was into his physics.
Six or seven years later the books arrived in my mailbox with a thank you note from a new physics instructor with his freshly minted PhD. I was picking up my mail on my last day in town and leaving the university in search of a higher income.
This remembrance still picks me up on a bad day and reminds me that I gave up the most rewarding job I ever had for more money. Evidently money is not the full story.
Donating blood is something that I have done over the years just because I am able to do it. I am proud that I have raised 5 regular blood donors. S17 is already a gallon donor. It’s not a thing that gets you personal thanks and you never know who benefits from it, but it makes me feel good and my children feel the same way. H can’t donate as he takes blood thinners, but he has told the kids often how proud he is that they donate.
H and I have taken in several young men, friends of our sons’, over the years. One lived on our couch for a year after his aunt and uncle threw him out the day after HS graduation. He was living in an SRO and my 2 middle sons told us about it. H visited and felt that the boy’s roommate was essentially a pedophile and he took the boy’s stuff out and brought him home that day. Where it benefited us was that, prior to this, my two youngest sons had a horrible relationship. This young man really took to my youngest, who reminded him of his own little brother who lived in another state. When my older son would bully the youngest, this boy intervened in ways that H and I could not to talk to the older boy about the relationship with a sibling and the like. It really helped S17’s self-esteem to see that an older kid liked him for who he is and was willing to stand up for him. It has helped make S17 what they call “an upstander,” someone who is willing to stand up for the rights of others. Sometimes, you never know the outcome of a single act when you undertake it.
I wish we could give blood but none of us can as we all gave chronic health conditions which trouble our providers and they don’t want us to do anything that could in any way weaken our somewhat fragile health. My brother and his family are regular blood donors.
It’s great that taking in that bonus son helped your entire family, especially your sons.
I started a nonprofit because I was so devastated to be diagnosed with a serious progressive condition and get no support or good info. I wanted to provide the support I felt was lacking statewide. The org has been around for over a decade now. I’ve met tons of people through it and learned a great deal. We have touched many lives.
I housed a foreign student and drove her to work, a lab job. She was happy to have a free place to stay and a ride in the morning. I was happy to spend time with someone so smart and energetic and open to learning new things. It was a delight to meet her a the end of the day and hear what she had seen and done and learned. We were from very different backgrounds and that made it more interesting. Her reactions surprised me. I also got a glimpse into her life as a young woman and heard about family, boys, clothes, all the other things on her mind.
I think I mentioned this one once before, but last fall, on my way to visit the two college kiddos one weekend, I stopped for gas. The woman in front of me was asking the clerk if he knew someone who could drive 10 miles up the road (turned out closer to 15) and help her disabled mother change a flat tire. I volunteered, went up and changed the tire. We had a nice conversation; she is a retired social worker from the Colville tribe, spent her life helping troubled kids.
After finishing, she got out her wallet and tried to pay me. I told her, “I’m not the one who needs a new tire.” I like to think that if you are good to people the gods of partial credit will reward you with other good people.
Our home seems to be where people run to. A friend of my son, age 12 at the time, ran away one Saturday night from his divorced mother’s home. Long LONG story but the second time he ran I had to call the police. (He was returned to his mother’s house by LAPD the first time). The mother came up to our door with a friend and were banging…it was horrible. I called Mr. Ellebud and a friend (who got to my house in three minutes)…I sent my girls upstairs and told them to stay together and lock their door. In the end the boy was removed from his mother.
My uncle, who used to be truly wealthy bet it all and lost. He lived with us 3 years. My daughter’s best friend (male) has lived with us for quite a while. They are co producers on several projects. No…they aren’t together. And yes, you all will be invited for a viewing party here…Chez Ellebud.
Several years ago as our family was traveling in a relatively poor country in Asia we visited a small reptile zoo and were approached by a teenaged boy carrying a guitar. He asked (in broken English) if any of us knew how to tune a guitar. My son is an accomplished classical guitarist and quickly tuned the guitar and they took turns playing. Unfortunately the guitar was missing a string or two, but that didn’t get in the way of them having a good time.
Unbeknownst to me, DW asked the boy for his mailing address. When we returned to the U.S. she bought a set of strings and mailed it to him with a short note. Several weeks later we received a very gracious thank you letter (letter, not note) in surprisingly decent English explaining how thankful and happy he was.
It was a wake up call to our entire family to learn how a simple act of kindness could affect someone so powerfully.
My relative was dismayed to learn that the local oyster industry was badly harmed by an oil spill but couldn’t get a bank loan to replenish their stock so they could stay in business. She and her spouse loaned them the money that she was sure they’d recover from the company that spilled the oil, saving the oyster company (they repaid her every penny when they recovered as predicted). We visited her and purchased some of the sweetest oysters ever at that farm.
I love the story about the guitar–music surely is a universal language and I’m sure that memory will live on in all your lives.
I was saddened to be told by the bone marrow registry that they couldn’t leave me on the donor list because of my chronic health issues–not sure whether for my protection or the potential recipients or both.
I had returned to grad school about 10 years ago in the Boston area. One day after classes were over, I was heading to my car when I was approached by a middle-aged couple that was clearly lost and distraught. They were looking for Kendall square in Cambridge and given that it was about a mile away, I offered to drive them.
I learned during the drive that they were from Vermont, and had driven down to Boston in preparation for an overseas flight. They just heard the shocking news that their young daughter in Switzerland had a stroke, and were in Boston a day early to get passports before flying the next day. They had taken a cab from the passport office to Kendall square but couldn’t find their car.
Well, their car wasn’t in Kendall square. After driving for an hour, we found it miles away in Boston, in Kenmore Square. These poor people had understandably got confused on this most horrible of days. They were so grateful they invited me to Vermont, and the husband gave me his card. I replied back saying this is your time, and to call me afterwards if they wanted too. They never did, and I didn’t want to intrude regarding their daughter’s health.
S2, unbeknownst to me, signed up to be a bone marrow donor while he was still off at school. He was contacted as a potential match earlier this summer, did the additional testing and passed that part of the evaluation, too. He was on call for the donation at any time. A few weeks later, he got an email saying that the doctors had decided not to proceed with the procedure. No specifics, but it was pretty easy to read between the lines. S2 mourned like it was a family member. Whatever else he accomplishes in life, he is an upstander. I am beyond proud.
We have lovely neighbor – a gentleman who was born in the house he still lives in – he was probably in his early 60s when we move in 20+ years ago. He never married but his sister who is a nun came by and they often had dinner together. They are both absolutely lovely but most people ignored them because they were not entrenched in the local schools and other typical activities of homeowners in town.
We had them for dinner, they were always wonderful to our kids – in short they are friends and neighbors. It came out quickly that the gentleman is a huge Notre Dame fan from his childhood (although he attended a different college). He seemed to know everything, especially about the old teams. My H who is a ND alum so they often discussed the state of the team. So when my H got tickets to a Notre Dame game at the Meadowlands and I had no particular interest in going, I suggested he invite our neighbor. Well, he was excited beyond words to see the team he so loved play in person.
A few days later, I saw his sister and she said he couldn’t stop talking about the game and what a thrill it was. I asked what her brother would think if he could actually go to go out to Notre Dame for a game. Her response was “it is more than he could hope for in life”. So we sprung into action. I mean if we could make a wonderful man’s “more than I can hope for in life” come true, it felt like we should do it. So the next year we got tickets for a game in South Bend and airplane tickets for him and my H. We went over and asked what he was doing on (whatever the date was) and when he replied that he would probably be watching Notre Dame play, we gave him the tickets and asked if he would like to see the game at ND Stadium – his eyes welled up almost immediately. My H went out with him, they stayed with a friend of my H and it was a wonderful experience for all. (PS My H took him back a second time as well). Now well into his 80’s and recovering from heart surgery, he recently told me that the trips to ND were among happiest things he has experienced in his life.
Speaking of donating things - I was considering growing out my hair and donating it. I looked around a bit online and it was dismaying. Sorry, being more than 5% gray excludes you but apparently, the vast amount of donated hair does not get used to make wigs for people who have lost their hair anyway. It is usually sold, for about $3/ponytail!
However, you can donate any quantity of any type of hair, animal fur, feathers etc., to be used for cleaning up oil and other toxic spills. So, I might still do that and not worry about the gray or about the length or anything. I have very thick hair - might as well put it to use! I’m going to tell my haircutter too because they can use all the scraps.
Also, at the post office today I was behind this young man who got a phone call. He was trying to send an overnight envelope and wasn’t sure he had enough money and to make things worse, his car had been impounded for camera tickets he had never gotten in the mail since he had recently moved. He was still in pretty good spirits but it’s just one of those awful situations where your bill gets higher and higher each day and you don’t know how you’re going to pay if off. And sure enough, he didn’t have enough cash for the overnight envelope.
Luckily, I found him in the parking lot and offered him some money for his package. He tried to refuse but I insisted. It was surprisingly emotional for me because I have been in dire situations like that in the past and I remember well how bad it feels, even though it was such a long time ago. I found myself fighting tears but at least he got his envelope sent.