Finding kindness

Just a moment ago, I deleted a comment I had made on a childhood friend’s post with photos showing she at a recent DJT rally. My comment was a single key stroke – the emoji of vomiting. Later, during my shower, I reconsidered my needlessly confrontational comment. What was the point? Was I going to suddenly make this person see the absolutely hideous person DJT is because of my perspective?

Not likely.

As I toweled off, I decided to delete the comment and, had there been any response to it, apologize for posting it. Putting more anger and shouting into the world doesn’t really serve anyone, does it?

I thought about how, when I had arrived in Rome’s Termini station from Florence, I needed to purchase a ticket for the Metro to get to where I was staying for the next few nights. Encountering a single automated machine (forgetting that there are more machines a bit closer to the Tracks), I decided to queue up for the window and instead purchase my ticket from the man at the ticket window.

There were two groups in front of me and my wait for assistance was about 4 minutes. When it was my turn, I made my request and offered a €50 note to pay for my €1.50 Metro ticket. With great impatience, he told me he didn’t have change and waved me off. I reached for my Amex card, the only one I had available at the moment, but noticed the sign which seemed to indicate the Amex was not accepted. I sighed and made my way to the machine.

After a short wait, I approached the automated ticket machine prepared with credit card in hand, and began my transaction. I changed the language to English, selected the ticket I wanted and inserted my card into the slot.

Nothing.

I went through the process a second time paying closer attention to the screens. Still no tickets.

I tried to tap my card a few times. The result remained the same – no ticket.

A nearby couple saw the predicament I was in and suggested I go to the window. I explained the cash situation. They approached the machine and went through the steps of the purchasing process again and communicated to me that the problem was not of my making. There was something going on with the machine.

I tucked my credit card away, shaking my head and already trying to develop a new plan of attack, when the couple spoke briefly to one another and then addressed me: “We’re going to just buy you a ticket. Wait one minute.” Then they proceeded to do just that.

I offered them the £.50 coin I had and they declined with smiles. They just wanted to help me, to offer me kindness.

A few nights later, I was in Naples, wandering around the narrow streets as dusk began to fall. The “streets” of Naples are stone, encroached upon on both sides from hanging laundry and buildings. There are more steps than you could ever imagine.

I noticed a woman with a stroller at the top of a staircase connecting two streets. She looked tired and a bit reluctant to take on the steps. I walked past her, before turning around and smiling at her. I gestured to her, offering my willingness to help her down the steps with here toddler.

She hesitated.

I recognized her response. I know that feeling – admitting that you’d appreciate help isn’t easy. I smiled again and she nodded, allowing me to take the bottom part of the stroller. We carefully made our way to the bottom of the steps where she thanked me profusely with numerous “Grazies.”

I thought about the book I had read earlier in the month, It Ends With Us, and a particular passage in which the female protagonist second guesses whether her partner’s hand was raised in anger or assistance. I realized, not for the first time, that extending a hand to greet or aid another person is a far better urge to cultivate than offering a slap or shove. I need to work harder to nurture that impulse.