Friday morning, L and I went to Borders book store to purchase a guide book and a road atlas for our trip to Santa Cruz. Only two people with a direction sense of our caliber would need multiple books and maps to visit a place an hour and a half away, but such is our level of preparedness. Or something. ;)
Books — and the latest issue of Elle — in tow, we squoze into the car between our tents and sleeping bags, and headed through the parking lot. At the edge of the lot, where it T's into the road, was an elderly man, standing and staring.
"What's that guy doing?" asked L.
"I think he might be homeless and/or crazy," I replied. And either because, or in spite of me thinking he was homeless and/or crazy, I made eye contact and waved.
The little old man started to walk toward me. He was tiny. Each frail little step took a while, shuffling his tweed trousers and matching suit jacket over a button-down shirt my way, bit by bit. I rolled the window down.
"Are you going to Safeway?" he asked. "That's where I meant to go, but we got mixed up."
"The one in Strawberry Village? No, I'm actually going the other way."
"Okay," he said, stepping back from the car.
"Sorry..."
He shuffled back to the sidewalk, to obviously wait for someone else to flag down. Someone else to give the poor old man a ride.
In Marin? Yeah, right. It was going to be a long wait.
I got out of the car and approached him. "Sir? I can give you a ride, it's not far."
"Are you sure?"
"Totally."
"It's not the Safeway in Strawberry, it's... it's the one..."
**HONK HONK!**
I looked up to see a stereotypical 'bored Marin housewife' in a shiny new SUV, bearing down on us, angrily desperate to enter the parking lot RIGHT NOW and at THIS VERY ENTRANCE. I pointed down the road, where, 100 yards further, was another entrance. She made wild hand gestures and angry glares, but I ignored her and turned back to the old man.
"It's the one... over by..."
"Oh! I know which one you mean! It's totally on the way. Hop in." I opened the door for him and started to escort him into my car.
**HONK HONK!!** More wild hand gestures.
"Go around!" I mouthed at the impatient lady behind the wheel. I was relatively sure that the books she wanted to buy would still be there, regardless of which entrance she used, but she seemed just as sure that they'd sprout wings and fly off to hell at any second. With the final gestures of her visible tantrum, she hit the gas and floored it to the next entrance.
The little old man slid in, and I drove him to Safeway. He thanked me gratefully, and off we all went. L and I got back on the main road to the freeway, and she said to me, "Wow, you're nice. I never would have picked him up."
Sometimes I start to lose my faith in humanity. Sometimes it seems like people would rather pay someone — a trendy non-profit, a government, a church — to be charitable or neighborly FOR them, instead of just being charitable and neighborly themselves. They don't want to get their hands dirty. They don't want their shopping routine disrupted.
L and I got to Santa Cruz maybe 5 minutes later than we would have.
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2 comments:
As technology makes our lives easier, it also creates a psychological barrier of insulation between human beings. We are used to being shut away in our own private worlds with our collection of friends and our collection of activities, and we don't want others to disrupt our flow, which is unfortunate. We all want to be nice to each other, but sometimes we forget that being nice, being charitable, being kind is something you have to do while looking another human being in the eye. It doesn't matter how you vote if you're not prepared to look an old man in the eye and lend a helping hand.
hahah! Way to go! I have to admit, if I was alone or with the kids, I probably wouldn't have helped like that. But there are times when you know it's better to help than to hope someone else will. You have a way with story-telling! :)
--shari
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