Giving back: S'no big deal

We are finishing up a weather event. S’no big deal. It’s January. It’s Massachusetts. Plus, it’ll be nice in a few days. There’s a reason Mark Twain wrote “If you don’t like the weather now in New England, just wait a few minutes.” 

We’ve had snow the last eighteen hours, and temps aren’t likely to get above the single digits today. Heck, with the wind chill factor, we’ll be lucky to get out of the double digits. Below zero I mean. I’m already looking forward to Monday, when we’re predicted to hit the plus-thirties, which always feel summery in January, though downright polar when we get that low in September.

Due to the weather, I had yesterday and today off. Like most of my colleagues, I was thrilled, but not because I could sleep in, or clean the house or maybe get an extra workout in at the gym before the heavy precipitation hit.  Yesterday I needed to do the single sibling shuffle. In other words, I had to drive my elderly loved ones all over tarnation. 

Before the work cancelation phone call, I was worried about how things would transpire if I wasn’t available to help. I was worried that I might have to call in sick, which is never a fun thing to do the first day back from vacation.    

  

The one who isn’t supposed to drive had two medical appointments, and was planning to get a ride from an equally elderly friend. The one who CAN drive was having minor outpatient surgery after which there was a possibility she wouldn’t be able to drive. She was, of course, planning to drive herself both ways.  

Worst case me spent most of the hours before the cancelation announcement creating highly imaginative, remarkably specific scenarios on how all that would pan out, given the predicted nasty road conditions.

I read everyone’s joyous facebook reactions to the no school announcement and thought, “You have no idea.” 

I left the house at 9 a.m. yesterday, while the roads were only somewhat glassy and the snow was coming down in teaspoons rather than buckets, and returned back home a little colder but much calmer nine hours later. It helped that in between a couple of driving sessions I managed to get in a fifty-minute gym workout.  Boston’s just four months away, after all. I’ve got to stay strong. 

At our high school reunion in November, a few of us were talking about the challenges we face, being the only siblings around for our precious elders. We talked about bitterness, anger, cynicism, and how sometimes we feel abandoned by the others who should be available but who aren’t, for reasons both within and outside (or so they say) their control. 

I was remembering that conversation with my high school friends as I drove around yesterday. I thought about how important it is to give folks the benefit of the doubt too. Then I remembered something that happened just the night before. 

Wednesday evening, just before the storm hit, I drove my daughter back to her apartment in Boston.  We were unloading bundles from the back of the car when a guy about my age came up to us. He wore a plaid coat and underneath a black sweatshirt with a hood. His blue jeans were faded and his work boots scuffed. He wished us a Happy New Year and we wished him the same. He asked if we needed help and I said that no, we were fine. I rearranged the bags I was carrying and began shutting the trunk. 

Before I could stop him, he grabbed the heavy garbage bag full of clothes from my right hand and began following my daughter down the street. I joined him, and thanked him for his help. I said he’d made my day. He replied that people like me made HIS day. He said what a blessing it was for him to help others. What a great way to start the new year.  What a blessing, he said again. 

For a few seconds, I marveled at the kindness of strangers. 

We stopped in front of my daughter’s apartment house and I thanked him again. He smiled at me and moved in close. I backed away and my daughter opened the front door quickly and began tugging at my arm. He pulled the remains of a joint from his jacket pocket and asked if I had a few bucks to help him out a bit. He wiggled the joint. I didn’t answer right away. He said he was homeless and had spent the previous night sleeping under a bridge.  

I backed toward the door and stammered of course. I was thinking two things. Neither had anything to do with the word blessing. One was get in the house fast. The other: If he was working in a hotel or at an airport, I’d give him something for carrying that bag. Fair’s fair.  I gave him a dollar, then I slammed the door shut. 

Here’s my latest take on those of us who stick around. We who get the late night phone calls first, call 911, fluff up pillows, chauffeur to appointments, wait in doctors' offices, listen, ask, reassure.  We have this in common: We want to think the best of others. 

This too: We’re grateful. Sure, there’s the bad stuff that scrapes up your insides. But that’s nothing compared to that other rawness, that pure joy we get from being there. It’s a blessing.

  

Now to get the car shoveled out and warmed up. Just one errand today. S'no big deal.