Kindness is needed

Random Acts of Kindness Blog Fest

 

Standing in a long queue at the pharmacy is always stressful.  It often seemed to Nancy as she needed medication for shingles and was at the end of an emotional tether, all the people ahead of her needed so much. 

Some needed translations into Spanish.  Some needed calls made to their doctors.  Some elderly people needed a multitude of help.

Source: COBRA Soft

Nancy needed to return home; shingles was eating up any energy she had.  But she would not give up her spot in the line, since she was the next person up, after a frail old woman finished talking with the pharmacy technician.  Nancy gritted her teeth, and then overheard the old woman speaking.

“That much?  It costs that much?”  She opened her wallet.  “I don’t have enough…I guess I will have to wait until next week to pick this prescription up…”

Source: bies

The technician explained to her that the doctor said she needed to start taking this prescription today.  The woman stepped away and said she would have to think about what she could give up today, so she could buy the medicine.

Nancy took her place in front of the technician.  Impulsively, Nancy leaned in and whispered, “How much does that woman need to pay for that prescription?”

The technician hesitated, but leaned forward and whispered, “About fifteen dollars.” 

Nancy checked her purse.  She had a five, three ones, and one twenty dollar bill.  She pulled out the twenty.  “Here…I’ll pay for her prescription, but you can’t tell her who gave the money.”

Surprised, the technician took the money.  As Nancy left the counter and walked through the store, she heard the elderly woman called over the speaker.  Then she heard the woman exclaim.  Relief was in her voice.

Nancy smiled.  She needed to hear that.

This is a true story.  I was there.  With my shingles.

 

Resilience, thy name is loquat.

 This is not our daughter's tree. But if it lives more decades, it could be.

 

Standing at the window, I had gazed out at the back lawn through a rare misty rain.  The neighbor’s liquid amber trees were budding out, even while a few stubborn dried leaves clung to the branches.  The daffodils were nearing then end of their glory, giving up the yellow gold that had bravely appeared when spring was just a vague hope.  There, at the back fence, stood the most resilient tree in this family’s fourteen years together: the loquat tree.

It had grown to nearly six feet, and the new growth will take it even higher.  That may not seem so spectacular, but one needs to know its humble beginnings and its near-death experiences to appreciate how amazing this tree is.

My daughter and her then-new husband had purchased the tree during the early weeks of their marriage.  They had planted it in the narrow backyard of their first house.  It was a healthy, well-established tree, and the leaves were lovely and green.  They loved it, but their black lab, Shelby, loved it even more.  That dog loved it so much, that in just a few weeks, she had chewed the tree down to within four inches of the ground.  After that, Shelby must have felt the tree was over and done with, and ignored it.

When they moved to a new house, my son-in-law dug up the tree, while my daughter scoffed, “Leave it!  That thing is dead and nothing will revive it.”  But, he re-planted it in a half-wine barrel in their new backyard, where the loquat must have felt safe enough to start growing a tentative trunk.  When it was about two feet tall, Shelby re-discovered it.  Same fate, poor tree.

Shelby went to dog heaven, and my son-in-law dug up the loquat tree.  He re-planted it on the sloping ground separating his house from the back neighbor’s house.  Nothing happened initially.  However, I was looking out the window, and saw a tree that I didn’t recognize.  “Oh, that’s the loquat tree that Shelby loved so much.”  I was astounded. 

Nature is resilient.  People are resilient.  We see it all over the world.  I saw it in the backyard, through a rare misty rain.

 

 This is a post from 2013... At that time, I waxed loquaciously in my writing. Now, I am pithy and in a short story feeling. Less words is more? As my hands hurt and my head is reluctant much of the time.

Black is the color of my true love's hair

The only live performance of her singing is from 1959. It was grainy and difficult to follow.      

                                                     

Joan Baez has had an amazing career.  Her voice—that incredible soprano voice—rang out as a voice of our generation.  There are too many roads to take down this topic, the wide genre of her songs.  Instead, the one song that rings clearest in my memory is “Black is the color…”

A question niggles in my brain:  What is it about the color black that pervades the design world?

Why are TV remotes black? Is it possible that Sony or RCA want us to lose the remotes in the dark recesses of sofa cushions knowing that the black remotes will remain hidden?

 

Why are many purse linings black, or nearly black?  Is it possible that, by making the linings dark, little items (nail clippers, lipstick, lip-gloss) will disappear, thus requiring further purchases?

 

Why do fancy dress events involve black/dark suits and dresses?  The ‘little black dress’: Why is it the important dress in the closet?  

For that matter, why do members of the Clergy wear black cassocks, black suits, black nun habits, etc.?  Why?  

In the beginning two questions, the color black perhaps denotes dignity and stylishness.  In the last question, maybe the color black indicates a desire to shed worldly attachments. Just guessing here...

Teenagers seem to go through an ‘all-black-Goth’ stage.  Black hair, black clothing, coal-black eye make-up—this is supposed to shout out to the world that they are individuals making a statement.  

Oddly, when they are all together, they appear to be wearing uniforms.

Spies, burglars, movie villains, and Harry Potter characters all are dressed in black.  The Adams family—stylish black clothing.  Matrix—really cool black clothing. 

Enough of this rant.

Anyway, enjoy this song.

I wrote this in 2013, and came across it recently. Why, I don't know. The underlined words are from Wednesday words challenge that I fitted into this homage to black, and to Joan Baez.