THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

I was visiting a wonderful blog tonight (what a surprise, right? ). It's name is onetallmomma@blogspot and she wrote about her recent experience of inviting two Morman boys to have dinner with her family. Boy, did that ever bring back a memory of a story. My grandmother used to do things like that, and more. Thought I'd share this with you.....So get a nice cup of tea or cocoa, sit back and come with me back to about 1943.....

My grandmother was the mother to many children; some hers and many not. She was the mother-hen of the neighborhood. All that I'm writing you about happened years and years before I was born -- but I love the story nonetheless. It was a time when people reached out to others...

My dad and his brothers were in the Army during WWII, and my grandmother missed them terribly.

This is the same grandmother I wrote about earlier. The one who wrote my dad a letter every single day while he was in training. She is the one who put the maple leaf in the envelope that I happened upon the other night. Yeah, that grandma.

Anyway....

Apparently one very cold winter night she was driving home and happened to drive (I figure on-purpose) by the campus of the college that was in town. It was dinnertime and cold outside. She saw a couple of fellows walking along, so she stopped her car and asked them if they'd had dinner. No, they hadn't. Would they like to get in the car and go with her to a lovely turkey dinner she had at home? Well, sure! So they piled into her car and away they went.

Imagine doing that today. Not.

After the feast, everyone sat around and visited long into the night. These two fellows were far away from home, probably months from being drafted and I'm sure they never forgot the lovely woman who scooped them up and fed them that night. My aunts still tell that story.

Another time my grandmother was at the bus station rather late one evening, having dropped off a cousin for a trip home. She stood in the small station, looking at the young woman at the end of the seating area and she wondered to herself why a young girl would be sitting alone in a bus station so late at night.

My grandma wasn't a person to just wonder and then walk away. She felt morally obligated to check out the situation. I wonder if I would have?

As it turned out, the young girl had run away from home and didn't have a clue where she was going. She'd landed in that bus station because that's as far as her money took her. No more money. No more bus ride. Now what?

Of course with the warmth of my grandmother's interest and I'm sure a gentle arm around her shoulders...this young woman broke down and told her story.

So, naturally, home she went with my grandmother.

They phoned the girl's parents, who were not the least bit interested in having the girl come back home again anytime soon!

So Susie stayed.

My grandmother put her upstairs in my dad's old room....enrolled her in high school so she could finish her senior year, helped her find a part-time job with a friend of my grandmother's and Susie stayed.

You can bet she told this story to her children. About the wonderful woman who took the time to care....

I think we've lost something in the intervening years, don't you? I'm certain of it.

But I like to find ways to spread a little kindness wherever I can. I don't think it would be wise or sane to do today what my grandmother did back then -- but I know there are still safe ways today to do kindness to others. Even when they don't know our names.

On the other hand, onetallmomma did exactly what my Meeme did back in 1943 and I think that's just about the nicest thing I've read in a long, long time. Be sure and visit her blog!

And thanks for dropping by my blog! Have just a super, restful weekend.