Kindness Is Out There

I got lucky this week. I’m on vacation with my son up in north Wisconsin. It’s our annual canoe trip and we’ve had rain and T-storms every day. I could bitch and moan, at 82 I don’t know how many more years I can or should be out there paddling challenging whitewater, after all, I’ve had a good run of more than 50 years on and in the water. Luckily he has a place we now use instead of pitching a tent in a wilderness campsite.

So instead of getting wet dumping in a river I was getting wet getting drenched in the rain when I went out for a long walk. This morning it was overcast and I set off up the county road to a dead end cross-road leading to a couple of farms. I wanted to see if there were any changes over the past year. The cross road had no outlet and was one way to get away from traffic and still be on a paved road.

Along the way I met and said hello to a young man pushing a baby buggy. His young son was peddling a bike  on one side. We exchanged greetings and I mentioned this was my annual walk. I pointed SW and explained that my son had a place back there about a mile away. I walked on. After a dozen steps, it started to rain lightly. I was a mile from home and decided to continue as planned until the paved road ran out. I passed a double-wide trailer home with a trampoline and other kid stuff in the yard. I wondered if that was where he lived. The rain started coming down heavy. I’m stubborn and I wasn’t going to be any drier by shortening my walk by ten minutes.  

I stopped where the road dropped, looking ahead to where it changed to dirt and gravel at the bottom. Time to head home. I thought about the man and his kids. The side road was straight and I looked to see if they were still walking. Not a sign so I assumed if they didn’t live in that double-wide they lived in one or the other of the homes along the road. Just as I passed the double-wide the door opened and the young man stepped out. “Hi. I’d be happy to give you a ride home.”

He made my day. He had at least two small kids and who knows if there weren’t more inside, food on the stove, and projects to do. I was a stranger in old clothes that were already wet. And here was someone willing to stop everything to do an act of random kindness! I lit up inside and sincerely thanked him, saying that it wasn’t necessary. I was floating on his goodwill!

The smells off the rain-laded air were delightful. Even the earthy aromas coming from the cows across a couple of fields where they patiently huddled together in the downpour was refreshing – barn smells can be perfume to a big city boy. I continued on to the county road and now made sure to step off to the side when oncoming traffic approached. I watched the water run in streams down the crushed stone shoulders off the macadam. The wild flowers, grasses – there were no weeds, weeds are what you don’t want or decide “don’t fit.” With kindness everything seems to be in harmony – it seemed as if all greens were wearing drops of glory, the same glory that was dripping from the brim of my duckbill and soaking through my shirt and pants.

It continued raining all the way home and I laughingly told my son about my encounter and the kindness that was offered by a stranger. And, no I wasn’t singing in the rain but inside I felt I was still hearing a choir of angels!

Bottom line – kindness is out there. Random. People care, they really do. If we slow down and give life a chance we may pass kindness on a walk, perhaps pushing a baby buggy!

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Ken was a Professor of Mathematics, a ceramicist, a welder, and an IBMer until downsized in 2000. He taught yoga until COVID-19 decided otherwise. He continues writing, living with his wife and beagle in Shorewood, Wisconsin. He enjoys chamber music and mysteries. He’s a homebrewer and runs whitewater rivers. Ken is a writer and his literary works can be found at https://www.kmkbooks.com/

He welcomes feedback on his articles and can be reached at havokjournal@havokmedia.com.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.