Two weeks ago, I stayed a little too late at happy hour in Calgary, which was not even 9 o’clock. I am not just saying that in case my boss is reading this. It was really only about 8:30 in the evening. The problem was that when I was walking back from the restaurant to my hotel on the +15 (pronounced “plus fifteen”), the doors to the +15 tunnel that I needed to pass through were locked. The +15 is a series of skywalks that connect a good portion of the buildings in downtown Calgary. This meant that I had to go outside, and it was below zero outside and snowing. Being a Texan, I did not have the proper clothes for this weather. I was not too worried because it was only three blocks. Well only three blocks, until I missed the turn. Everything looked different in the snow fall. I was way off course, and I was cold, and I could not get my cell phone working to get me directions back to the hotel. I was also alone on the streets in a city, not the safest place to be. It is fair to say that something bad could have easily happened to me.
The first person that I asked for help practically ran away from me. The second person either did not speak English, or pretended to not speak English. The third person not only helped me, but walked me all the way back to my hotel to be sure I did not get lost again. She was nice. I said to her, “You helped me. Is there some way that I can help you?”
Her initial response was, “There is nothing I need. It feels good to be helpful.”
I pressed her, “Surely there is something I can do for you.”
She then admitted that she was living on the streets. She had friends that were going to let her with them for a couple of days, and it was about a ten-block walk where we were. I then looked at her closely. Her shoes and jacket were adequate, but she did not have a hat or gloves. Her two front teeth were missing. I think that people see her on the streets and think heroine addict. This is not the case. Heroine takes all of a person’s teeth, only her two front teeth were missing. The rest of her teeth were perfect and white for that matter. I suspect that someone knocked her front teeth out, which may explain how she wound up on the street. Her skin was clean, and her eyes were white and bright. If she is an addict of some kind, she is hiding it well. She was articulate and warm hearted.
I used to have a boss that said, we are all just three bad decisions away from being homeless, and I suspect that this woman would agree.
I asked her to wait for me in the hotel lobby. I went up to my room, and I got the brand-new hat and gloves that my sister had given me for Christmas, the little bit of cash that I had, and a big bag of snacks that I had gotten from the hotel for being a platinum member. I brought them to her.
I could tell she loved the hat and gloves. They were really nice, but I know my sister would rather someone that needed them every day have them.
I said to her, “Thank you for helping me, and thank you for letting me help you in return.”
Her words to me, “It is the feeling of someone looking me in the eye, acknowledging me, treating me like a human being that has truly helped me. Thank you.”
And she was on her way. A man observing the whole situation said to me, “Why did you do that? You realize that she will simply be broke again tomorrow, don’t you?”
I am not sure why I felt the need to explain myself to Uncle Scrooge, but I did.
When I was in college, my parents were in a bad financial situation. They lost our family home, and their debt was insurmountable. I never wanted to ask my parents for money. I worked to pay for school. I was far from bad off. I had a car, and I had a good job. I had nice things, all which my parents provided me through debt. Once I came to understand this, I did not want to ask them for money.
There were times when I would be out with friends, and I did not have spare cash for a beer or a bite to eat. I was not big on alcohol back then; it was just the social aspect of having something in my hand, not being the odd duck standing there awkwardly empty handed. There was a girl named Lisa that would always give me a drink or share her money so I could get something to eat. We were not close friends, really just acquaintances. We knew each other through our parents. I never asked her for anything. She offered, and she did so privately, never in front of anyone. It may seem trivial, but this made me feel good, it gave me a sense of social acceptance, and she inspired generosity in my heart. To this day, I think about her, and I pay it forward.
I explained this to Uncle Scrooge, and I could see a glimmer of light in his eye. He gave me a half smile and said it was an interesting story.
I haven’t spoken to Lisa in years aside from an occasional comment on Facebook. I think it is neat that our sons share the same first name. It has been more than two decades since I hung out with her, and I still think about her kindness towards me, and to this day that is what inspires me to help others. There is no question that a little kindness goes a long way.
Lisa – My parents adored you. I hope that this message finds you in good health and happy spirits. May God bless you, one of the kindness people that I have ever known in my life.