A Contagion of Kindness, Undeterred by Changing Times, Locale

When we moved to Ventura County from Atlanta four years ago, we wondered if our luck would hold. We have always been the recipients of the kindness of complete strangers. Somehow or other, a good Samaritan was there to step in whenever something terrible happened.

Yes, we know meanness is out there. Awhile back, CNN ran a special report showing how uncaring, rude and downright mean people treat each other these days. We focus on the guy who cuts us off on the freeway ramp, the checker at the supermarket who is so nasty or the one time out of 50 that our son leaves his bike unlocked and it’s gone when he gets back.

But then we think of the times when people have gone out of their way to be kind.

When we moved to Atlanta, our rental furniture was taken away just as our own furniture was delivered. The next day a woman from the rental agency called and said that they had found what looked like important papers in the top drawer of the dresser and wanted to mail them back to me. I remembered that was where I had put the contents of our safety deposit box, which included our will, the titles to the house and cars, birth certificates and our marriage license.

And when we lived in New York, my daughter-in-law, on her first visit to the city, left her pocketbook on the Long Island Railroad. It was mailed back to her in California with all of her money, except for the exact amount needed for the postage.

And then we moved to Southern California.

Somehow, on the way to the post office in Janss Mall to mail his income tax returns last April, my husband lost them. He spent two hours searching the mall.

When he returned home there was a message on the answering machine: “Just wanted to let you know I found your income tax returns and mailed them.” Dead silence for a moment and then, “You’re welcome.”

We were lost in Chinatown in Los Angeles and stopped to ask an elderly woman about which bus we should take back to our car. She helped us as best she could and, as we stood there still distressed, reached into her pocket to give us quarters for exact change for the fare.

*

And then there was the time we were on the Ventura Freeway heading north to San Francisco with just one set of car keys. We stopped to get gas and then couldn’t find those keys.

The man at the next pump watched the four of us circling our car, looking outside, inside and under it, and then he said to me, “If you’re looking for your car keys, they’re caught on the back of your sweater.”

My friend Joy, after we went to lunch and then spent a few hours at a museum in Santa Barbara, discovered that her wallet was missing. Back to the restaurant we went and, sure enough, someone had turned it in.

I went to visit a new friend in Thousand Oaks and somehow got turned around and missed her street. A woman came along in her car, and I asked her if she knew where Durham Street was.

She said, “No, but if you have your friend’s number, we’ll call her on my cell phone and get directions.” And that’s what we did.

Funniest of all, to me, was the woman who told me she was on line at a supermarket in Thousand Oaks when a woman in front of her looked in her shopping cart and said, “I forgot to get so many of the things you have in your wagon.”

And she said: “Oh, take what you need. I have time; I’ll just run back and get them all again.”

Perhaps, just like acts of meanness, good deeds are contagious.