A woman approached us as we walked along the sidewalk in the hospital corridor near my home.
“May I ask you a question?” she asked.

“Sure.”
“Is it okay if I approach your dog?”
“Of course.” She walked up to Jaxon and kneeled down to pet him.
“Oh, I so needed a mini Schnauzer ‘fix’ this morning. We don’t live here and our dog is back home. I miss her so.” She looked up at me. “My husband is in the Intensive Care Unit.”

“Oh, dear. Covid?” I asked.
“No, he had a heart attack. And, last night they had to take him back into surgery where he then suffered a second heart attack.”
“Oh, I am so sorry.” I put myself in her place, thinking of being in a city far from home with a husband in the ICU. Tears spontaneously streaked down my face. “I cry easily,” I apologized.

She nodded as if she understood. All the while, she is petting Jaxon, who acted perfectly content to soak up as many pets as possible. After standing up, she went on to say, “We have had four mini Schnauzers over the years. Our current dog is fifteen years old. It was hard to leave her behind with someone.”

“Jaxon is older too. He’s twelve.”

“They are such a playful breed, aren’t they? Up until the very end, always wanting to run and play,” she said.

“This is our first Schnauzer, but I’m not surprised. He generally has boundless energy.”

“All four of ours lived to around fourteen and a half to fifteen years. Two of them had dementia.”

“Really?”

“Yes, one of them would tilt sideways now and then. The other one ran in circles over and over and over, and became so thin we had to put her down. They were memorable pets.” She paused. “You have no idea how you and Jaxon have lifted my spirits this morning. I so needed this.”

I offered her a hug and she also began to cry. “Whenever someone hugs me, I cry. Hugs are such an unexpected kindness. My name is Kathleen, by the way.”
“I’m Vicki.”
We talked about mini Schnauzers a few minutes longer.
“Well, I best get on to the hospital. Thank you again for giving me this gift. It will sustain me as I face the day.”

We parted ways. What are the chances my dog and I would be walking down that particular sidewalk at the same moment Kathleen intersected our path from the parking lot?

Her words about kindness caught me off guard. For me, hugging her seemed the natural response. I thought about it and realized we all left with a gift. My dog enjoyed the unexpected petting which, in turn, offered this stranger comfort and her perception of kindness allowed me to enjoy a warm and satisfied feeling in my heart. Serendipity at its finest. What better way to start the day?

Kindness. It is always the right choice.

People had begun wending their way toward a seat in the outdoor pavilion, the event nearly ready to commence. An elderly gentleman accompanied by his wife most likely wished himself home watching a baseball game on T.V.  I’d already listened to him insult her earlier in a condescending tone of voice when she asked him a question.  I watched out of the corner of my eye as he sat left of center in the third row. Chatting with others, he heard me mention my home town.

“You’re from there? I lived in that town for a time. Used to go down to the Main Street Bar and talk to the bar patrons. They didn’t like me much,” he trailed off.

“Oh?” I turned my attention toward him.

“Yeah, I used to tell ‘em that the government made a mistake. They shoulda given their whole godforsaken eastern part of the state to the Injuns,” he guffawed.

This statement shouted wrong to me on so many levels. I stared at him, speechless, wondering if I dare speak my mind. In the end, politeness reigned and we moved on. The conversation continues to haunt me, though, because it encompasses a reprehensible thought process increasingly prevalent in our new world of lies, fake news and trolls.

Honestly, I really never thought about attacking him physically or verbally. I did wish for the ability to show him a different way of thinking, however. Seemingly set in his ways and beliefs, I doubted anything I might say would impact eighty years of indoctrination to another mindset.

Before “white men” came west, indigenous people lived and died, traveling through the land, realizing they could no more own the land than they could own the sun or moon. How on earth did white men decide they owned the land and force the indigenous people, living there long before the white person, onto reservations? Secondly, forced to live in specified places during that time in our history, why weren’t they given the best land?  This older man’s audacity to suggest the government should have given them the so-called “worst” land on which to live infuriates me.

Has mankind (notice I did not say womankind) ever had the decency to see beyond the end of their own bulbous nose? By all accounts, we’ve become even more intolerant in the past couple of years. Empathy and kindness appear to be endangered traits. Is it possible to stop this downward slide into a country fueled primarily by anger, negativity and hate? I sure hope so. My call to action: Starting this moment, consider if, in your world, you practice kindness and empathy. I choose to believe it’s contagious.