A few weeks ago Kate, a nearby neighbor, posted the following poem on the pedestal in her front yard. Kate regularly posts poems and I look forward to reading them on my daily walks. "Small Kindnesses," the title, is an appropriate intention, or if you prefer the term "resolution," for 2022.
Small
Kindnesses
By Danusha
Laméris
I’ve been
thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”
As 2022 unfolds may we exchange small kindnesses like the ones I recently experienced. Kindness will help as cope with life's uncertainties which now are heightened because of the Omicron COVID variant.
One afternoon, early in December, as I was on my daily walk, about a half block from home, a young boy no older than seven and full of joy came
skipping out of his house. He quickly and nimbly crossed his front yard and skipped, at a fast pace, across the street
to meet me. He warmly greeted me and asked “ Do you want a card from
the Kind Kids Club?”
Of course I accepted. He said "thank you" and skipped
across the street, returning home as fast as he had arrived in front of me. I had no time to ask his name. I continued my walk and opened the
envelope. I laughed as I read the note while feeling joy. I especially liked his "You are looking good" statement. Thank you, young spirit of kindness.
June, a neighbor near Prospect Gardens, is another spirit of kindness. Prospect Gardens, as frequent blog readers know, has two elderberry shrubs and two cherry trees. June picked this last summer's crop of elderberries and cherries, and made jams.
I was on a walk through Prospect Gardens when I met June and her neighbors, Patricia and Jim. I patiently waited as June and Jim finished their discussion. After a warm exchange of greetings, June said that she saved jams for me and this would be a good time for her to get them. Jim and I chatted as June went home to fetch the goodies.
Thank you, June. The elderberry and cherry jams are delicious on toast and with yogurt. Drizzling either one on waffles and ice cream are next on my list. Choosing one or both will be a delight.
Before June arrived with the jams, Patricia came out of the house for her daily walk along the bike path. She asked Jim to take a picture of us and he obliged before returning home. I usually wear a mask during winter while walking because it keeps my face warm.
Over the years, Patricia and Jim have extended many acts of kindness to me, their neighbors and family members. I met Patricia shortly after the bike path opened in 2001. She was on the path in front of the tall pine trees, expressing her concerns about the pines' survival.
Our greetings and chats are small kindnesses that connect us. Jim's stories and quips are often humorous. His story telling reminds me of comedians from the early days of television. Patricia reminds me of a passionate social commentator, a gentle critic, and an activist. She is also a determined walker. You will find Patricia striding down the path even during these cold winter days.
Holiday seasons offer opportunities for kindness. Laura, a long time Prospect Garden volunteer, gave us this magnificent amaryllis which bloomed for several weeks. Peg, another neighbor and friend, also gave us an amaryllis, along with tasty molasses ginger cookies. Thanks, Laura and Peg.
Laura "babysat" my bonsai when Ann and I visited Emily in Oakland, California from December 13th to the 20th. Laura reported that the bonsai was a well behaved plant.
The last time, because of the pandemic, we saw Emily in person was before Thanksgiving 2019. We were cautious during our visit: eating at outside restaurants and ordering a lot of take out. We enjoyed a park along the San Francisco Bay in Berkeley, the UC Berkeley Botanical Gardens, and a walk through an upscale Berkeley neighborhood near Emily's apartment.
Emily and I binged watched the nine part Netflix series, Wanda Vision and several episodes of
The School of Chocolate . Follow the link for information about this competitive show, which has some similarities to the popular Great British Bakeoff.
The medium is chocolate and creations are not chocolate cakes, bonbons, or brownies. During an episode teams competed creating, from scratch, chocolate sculptures that had to be at least five feet tall. One team's sculpture had a base depicting a sea filled with plastic waste and topped with a dolphin. The dolphin fell off just before chef Amaury Guichon, the internet famous chocolate sculpturist, and show's star, began judging the creations.
The collapsing dolphin added suspense. Yet what was is noteworthy is how Chef Amaury Guiechon gave feedback wrapped in kindness. For example, he praised the quality of the base rather than focusing on the fallen dolphin. His teaching style was a combination of kindness and criticism, all within the context of a learning experience.
One of our few indoor events was a visit to the UC Berkeley Art Museum. The featured exhibit was "
New Time: Art and Feminisms in the 21st Century." Here's a picture of one of the art pieces entitled
"Breaking the Prairie" by Koak, a 95 X 68 in. linen mounted panel of oil, acrylic, pigment, chalk and graphite. This was just one of the artist' s several large panels depicting feminism on display. See
the Museum's web site for pictures of the featured art and information about the exhibit.
On our return trip I and other travelers extended a small, yet important, act of kindness to a young man. English was his second language. He was just behind Ann and I in a very long security line. He stepped forward, showed me his ticket and pointed to the time when his plane was boarding. He was rightfully concerned about missing his plane. He asked if he could please move ahead and I agreed. Other passengers also allowed him to move forward. He made it closer to the front of the line.
While traveling I wore this Airgami mask which meets all N95 standards. It's made in the United States, reusable and comes with directions for cleaning. Our trip to San Francisco included a three hour lay over in Minneapolis. Ann and I were masked the entire day. As you can see the mask has a unique origami like design: pricey and worth it because of comfort and breathability. Plus it's unique.
Those who volunteered throughout the 2021 Prospect Gardens season extended kindness and generosity to me and their neighbors. A special thank you to approximately 40 individuals,
counting my wife Ann and I, for volunteering throughout the 2021 season. Altogether we logged 340 hours. That’s about 42 eight hour days
of interpersonal connections, kindness, fun, and preservation of a site that helps reduce
runoff while providing shelter for birds, insects, pollinators, and small
animals.
Here's four recent Prospect Garden winter scenes along with quotations about kindness for your reflection.
“Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little
bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.” —Desmond Tutu.
“Human kindness has never weakened the stamina or softened
the fiber of a free people.” —Franklin D. Roosevelt.
“Kindness is the only service that will stand the storm of
life and not wash out. It will wear well and will be remembered long after the
prism of politeness or the complexion of courtesy has faded away.” —Abraham Lincoln.
“My wish for you is that you continue. Continue to be who
and how you are, to astonish a mean world with your acts of kindness. Continue
to allow humor to lighten the burden of your tender heart.” —Maya Angelou.
I close with this 2020 poem received in this year's Holiday card from the poet Sandy. She is a neighbor, friend, and collaborator on neighborhood projects.
First Full Snow of Winter
How it softens everything it falls on:
the slender stalks that bend
under its wet weight, then lean
into each other to become shelter
for sparrows, a slight lattice
for the plump mourning dove,
that silly surveyor of our world,
obvious thief of spilled seed.
And the new stillness after,
when snow covers everything
we call it blanketing
so even the energetic finches
and juncoes stay quiet,
show excitement only
in flutters, hops the way
they take their fill
swiftly
to the closest branch,
set off snow-spill
in December air.
The poem was inside this Holiday card and with Sandy's hand written note:
" Sending Fall Harvest cheer to get you through another tough winter of masking et. al ________.
Happy Holidays"
I share Sandy's kindness with you in the spirit of spreading "Fall Harvest cheer." May "Fall Harvest cheer", along with kindness, infuse your life as 2022 unfolds. May it be so.
