Thursday, January 29, 2009

The Kindness

Growing up in the 60's, I remember how easy it was to trust complete strangers. We never locked our doors (or windows), hitchhikers were common place, and door to door salespeople - complete strangers! - entered our house without a second thought (and Carol Jean still has a set of World Book Encyclopedias to prove it.) And neighbors were neighborly back then - at least in our neighborhood they were. It wasn't without its drawbacks, mind you. If you liked even the least bit of privacy, you were out of luck.

At that time, Carol Jean was raising me on her own while most of her immediate family lived about eight hours away. We would make that trek a few times a year - mostly on holidays - and I always remember sitting in the backseat (no seatbelt back in those days) jumping up and down, asking "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" and then settling back down as day gave way to night - laying across the back seat, looking up at the stars through the rear window, feeling the steady vibrating hum of the tires just below me. I used to love falling asleep to that. And still do, when I can relax long enough to let go of being a backseat driver (doesn't happen too much, let me tell ya). But I'm getting off track here a bit.

Carol Jean always had a thing for truck drivers - not a "thing" thing, but a thing. They helped pass the time on those long drives. Most of the roads we traveled back then were two lanes, so there was lots of passing going on. She would pass a trucker, then he would pass her. Then she would pass him again, then he would pass her. And on it went for miles. On one particular night, she had "befriended" a particular truck driver via this passing game - and because she had something of a lead foot (and still does!) she must have left him in the dust hours into the drive. For some reason, she had to pull off on the side of the road - I can't exactly remember why - perhaps just to stretch or get me situated. Sure enough, the trucker she passed miles back came upon her stopped car - and instead of racing past, he slowed down his rig and pulled off the road to a complete stop - just to check on Carol Jean to make sure she was okay. (I suppose he noticed she had a youngin' in the back, too).

When the 70's came - they seemed to usher in a decade of "stranger fear." I remember hearing about razor blades in Halloween candy, and creepy strangers hanging out in play grounds, and abductions and hitchhikers being picked up and left for dead somewhere. And it hasn't let up. The fear we have of each other seems to be almost paralyzing at times.

Carol Jean called me tonight with a story. She was in her den watching television when the house suddenly felt cold. She soon figured out why when she got up and discovered that the door leading to her garage was open (as was the actual garage door). And, knowing what that meant, she got on her coat and boots and went out in search of her dog, Daisy Mae - a.k.a. the "she devil."

She started down the sidewalk and, sure enough, there was Daisy a few houses down having a chat with the dogs who resided there. As my mom went up their driveway, her feet gave way, and she slipped on the ice, fell flat on her back, and smacked her head down on the hard ice. She laid there - a bit dizzy - unable to get up. A neighbor boy saw her and came racing down on his motorized tractor. A man across the street who was picking the ice off his windshield also saw her and rushed over. Between the two of them, they picked her up. The ice man took her - in his car - to her house. And the young man hoisted Daisy onto his tractor and drove her home, too. They took my mom into her house, got her settled on the couch and made sure she hadn't broken any bones. Thankfully, she didn't. But she had a mighty big knot on the back of her head. Once they were sure she was okay, they left.

An hour later, the neighbor boy came back with a man my mom had never met - must have been his father. He came in and checked out my mom and asked her a battery of questions - was she nauseous? Did she have double vision? (He must have been an EMT, Carol Jean said.) He wanted to make sure she didn't need to go to the hospital.

Tonight, Carol Jean feels very lucky to live in a neighborhood of neighborly neighbors. And I am so glad that there are people watching over her when I cannot. This isn't the first time my mom has received the kindness of strangers - and she has extended the same in her life many times over. It just makes me realize that should I do a good deed for a stranger, it's not really for a stranger, it's for someone's mom or dad or brother or sister. And someone just like me will be happy that I was there.

1 comment:

Rochelle said...

What a great story. Your mom is so sweet too. I always remember her cheering her heart out at Zach and Ryan's soccer games.
I wish it could be like the 60's again. I am thankful that I have good neighbors too.