The Kindness Of Strangers

Each morning as I make my way to Radio City for another morning broadcast, I am accompanied by passing vehicles, the occasional dog bark, and…that’s about it. Sometimes a jogger or dog-walker will greet me and I will croak out a “Good morning.” But mostly it’s just me and what Paul Harvey referred to as “the pre-dawn dark.”

So today, when a young lady was walking several paces ahead of me, it stood out as unusual. It was even more unusual when she stopped, crouched down on the side of the road and began rifling through a handbag. When I got closer she asked if I had a cell phone. I called a number for her and let her chat with someone.

She was seeking a ride somewhere, a situation I am intimately familiar with. She was cold and she seemed to be fighting back tears. So I suggested that she come in the radio station and warm up while she tried finding a lift. She came back with me to the studio, and sat on the floor as I did the morning show. I got her a drink of water, and–because it’s Flush-the-Format Friday–I played a song she wanted to hear.

Every once in a while she would call, or be called, on her cell (she was able to charge it in the studio). As the morning rolled on we talked about music; she told me about her kids, and her knock-kneed German grandfather. We talked about restaurants that are no longer around, and other things. Eventually she got her ride. I got her first name which I will keep to myself.

So why am I telling you about this? Well, it’s never happened to me in 21 years of walking to work, for one thing. But really, I was just glad to be able to repay a tiny fraction of the kindnesses that have been shown me by strangers over my 47 years.

In the summer of 2013 I tripped over a bench and broke my face. Okay, maybe I didn’t break it, but I definitely landed on it. In addition to breaking my glasses, I got a black eye, a fat lip, a bruised nose, several cuts and a goose egg on my forehead that…wait, let me check….yep. Still there. Anyway, this happened in view of…and this is not an exaggeration…several hundred people. One person out of several hundred exclaimed “Oh my God!” and came to my aid…making sure I was okay(ish) before running to fetch first aid. One out of several hundred.

There are other examples…an elderly couple buying me food at Joe’s Pizza the night my Mom forgot to pick me up there after school. (It only happened once!) Strangers giving me rides into work on the chilliest of Nebraska mornings (I know you shouldn’t take rides from strangers but when it’s -23 you tend to be more adventurous). And that’s not counting the jillions of kindnesses paid me by my work family, my friends, and the Wentworth tribe. Especially in the first half of this year.

So it was nice to be a helper. As Mr. Rogers says, you can always find a helper…and if you can’t, that means it’s your turn.