Something I don
Walking down the street in Park Slope with Billy and the baby on Saturday night. Passing us, a middle-aged woman, short hair and glasses, crying, holding a slice of cake in a plastic container. Walking with her, a younger woman, smaller and dark haired, saying, Maam, I dont want to leave you like this. The younger woman clearly a stranger, having happened perhaps upon this crying woman? Or had she been witness to the scene that caused the tears? The scene that happened maybe just after she got the slice of cake? Was the slice of cake dessert taken to go after an abrupt and ugly ending to a dinner? And then when I looked back they were embracing, the older woman leaning heavily into the younger, the much smaller younger woman bearing up the weight and the grief of the stranger. The older woman weeping now, sobbing. And we walked on.
How often do you see that? A stranger reaching out to a stranger in that way? Not often enough. Im grateful to have seen it. I hope to remember it, next time I see someone alone, crying on the street.
And then theres the selfish bit. Writers are always being asked where we get our ideas. Well, heres one example. Somethings bound to grow from having been witness to that scene.
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A few years ago I was in California when my best friend’s mother died, not long after my own father’s death. I was at a trade show, which might be the most emotionally bankrupt place on earth and alone. I changed my flights to leave the earliest possible time the next morning and packed up my booth and then I had no idea what to do with myself. Hotel room?
At the time I was interested in collectible dolls and had made previously made plans to see a shop near the convention center. The owner I knew by name from a yahoo group, but had never met or emailed or spoken with.
I wandered into the store – I can’t imagine what I looked like, but the woman just adopted me. Called her husband, took me home with her, sat me by the pool with a margarita, took me to dinner with her kids. Showed me all her crazy collectibles and the way the flowering vines grew in her backyard and told me about the famous basketball player who’d bought a house for his mama around the corner.
It was one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me, given me a family to borrow so I didn’t have to go back to that hotel alone.
People can be astonishingly generous.
I really want to know about the cake.
Posted by: juno
The first day I ever tried to visit Montréal, there was a terrible blizzard that cropped up just before I got to the city, and my car flew off the road into a ditch. A fence stopped it from flipping over. I was absolutely in the middle of nowhere and could not see a thing for the snow. A man and his wife and daughter, who was my age, stopped and called the police for me, took me to their house, took care of getting my car extricated and to the body shop to strap it together, fed me lunch, and told me that if it turned out that the person I was visiting was not an okay person to visit, I could come back to them and stay the night.
People are amazing. If I can ever find these people again, I’d love for them to know: he was more than okay. I married him.
Posted by: Lee Ann
A few years ago I was in California when my best friend’s mother died, not long after my own father’s death. I was at a trade show, which might be the most emotionally bankrupt place on earth and alone. I changed my flights to leave the earliest possible time the next morning and packed up my booth and then I had no idea what to do with myself. Hotel room?
At the time I was interested in collectible dolls and had made previously made plans to see a shop near the convention center. The owner I knew by name from a yahoo group, but had never met or emailed or spoken with.
I wandered into the store – I can’t imagine what I looked like, but the woman just adopted me. Called her husband, took me home with her, sat me by the pool with a margarita, took me to dinner with her kids. Showed me all her crazy collectibles and the way the flowering vines grew in her backyard and told me about the famous basketball player who’d bought a house for his mama around the corner.
It was one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me, given me a family to borrow so I didn’t have to go back to that hotel alone.
People can be astonishingly generous.
I really want to know about the cake.
Posted by: juno
The first day I ever tried to visit Montréal, there was a terrible blizzard that cropped up just before I got to the city, and my car flew off the road into a ditch. A fence stopped it from flipping over. I was absolutely in the middle of nowhere and could not see a thing for the snow. A man and his wife and daughter, who was my age, stopped and called the police for me, took me to their house, took care of getting my car extricated and to the body shop to strap it together, fed me lunch, and told me that if it turned out that the person I was visiting was not an okay person to visit, I could come back to them and stay the night.
People are amazing. If I can ever find these people again, I’d love for them to know: he was more than okay. I married him.
Posted by: Lee Ann
i once boldly gave a crying girl on the train a package of kleenex. poor thing had nothing. she was so grateful. and there i was, in my new york world, i was totally going to just ignore her and give her her space. i’m glad i did something.
Posted by: gleek
What a sad, beautiful image.
When Noah was a newborn, we just couldn’t get the hang of nursing as he could not properly latch on. I felt like a total failure as a mother and spent the first week of his life in tears. I found a local La Leche League leader through their website and called her, weeping all the while. She came to my house, took Noah and me back to her place, she fixed me lunch and a protein shake, and then she put us in her spare bedroom so we would have a place to rest in between feedings. At her insistence, the baby and I spent the next couple of days hanging out in her house (we’re talking between 8-10 hours a day), and sure enough, both he and I got the hang of nursing after a bit of practice. Alma’s act of incredible kindness and generosity will likely always stay with me. Since that time I’ve helped a number of women through their own nursing issues and have always made myself available to new mothers who need a hand. Random acts of kindness are an amazing and inspiring thing.
Posted by: regina
I don’t know if this is a bit cold-blooded to say, but my first thought was, “That could be an interesting scene to write someday…” Damn writers.
I often see students crying on campus – it’s fairly common, actually. I never know what to do about it, either. I’m watching these strange half-child, half-adult beings navigate huge emotional traumas for the first time alone. While on their way out of a classroom. (Or to one.)
Posted by: Aura
Have you seen http://www.freehugscampaign.org . The story behind th campaign made me tear up.
Posted by: Robin
That’s what makes us writers, the ability to create a story from any scene, to give such things life. I often write short stories based on things I see on the subway, wondering what a person is reading and why they have that expression on their face, and then writing it, etc. etc.
Thanks for sharing the story. In the hustle and bustle of daily life, we often forget that those we pass by are people full of emotions, simply longing for someone to show they care.
Posted by: Anna
Something like that happened to me once when I was 16. My dad, sister, and I were in a vet’s ER, checking our cat in to put him to sleep. A woman was in hysterics in the waiting room, and I stopped and knelt next to her and put my arms around her. She put her head on my shoulder and started telling me about how she had been through so much in the past few years, and that dog was the only thing she still had and that it had been with her throughout all of it and she couldn’t bear to lose it. It was really sad. Later, my dad told me how proud of me he was for putting my own feelings aside for her, and I was indifferent to his praise because there wasn’t any other option. That was what she needed right then, and I was in the position to give it to her.
Posted by: rach
That just made me tear up. I hope that if I ever see someone crying that I 1) have the courage to offer help and 2) the person accepts my offer. That young woman was an angel.
Posted by: Angela
What a wonderful scene to witness! And I totally understand the urge to write from it.
Posted by: Sneaksleep
i once boldly gave a crying girl on the train a package of kleenex. poor thing had nothing. she was so grateful. and there i was, in my new york world, i was totally going to just ignore her and give her her space. i’m glad i did something.
Posted by: gleek
What a sad, beautiful image.
When Noah was a newborn, we just couldn’t get the hang of nursing as he could not properly latch on. I felt like a total failure as a mother and spent the first week of his life in tears. I found a local La Leche League leader through their website and called her, weeping all the while. She came to my house, took Noah and me back to her place, she fixed me lunch and a protein shake, and then she put us in her spare bedroom so we would have a place to rest in between feedings. At her insistence, the baby and I spent the next couple of days hanging out in her house (we’re talking between 8-10 hours a day), and sure enough, both he and I got the hang of nursing after a bit of practice. Alma’s act of incredible kindness and generosity will likely always stay with me. Since that time I’ve helped a number of women through their own nursing issues and have always made myself available to new mothers who need a hand. Random acts of kindness are an amazing and inspiring thing.
Posted by: regina
I don’t know if this is a bit cold-blooded to say, but my first thought was, “That could be an interesting scene to write someday…” Damn writers.
I often see students crying on campus – it’s fairly common, actually. I never know what to do about it, either. I’m watching these strange half-child, half-adult beings navigate huge emotional traumas for the first time alone. While on their way out of a classroom. (Or to one.)
Posted by: Aura
Have you seen http://www.freehugscampaign.org . The story behind th campaign made me tear up.
Posted by: Robin
That’s what makes us writers, the ability to create a story from any scene, to give such things life. I often write short stories based on things I see on the subway, wondering what a person is reading and why they have that expression on their face, and then writing it, etc. etc.
Thanks for sharing the story. In the hustle and bustle of daily life, we often forget that those we pass by are people full of emotions, simply longing for someone to show they care.
Posted by: Anna
Something like that happened to me once when I was 16. My dad, sister, and I were in a vet’s ER, checking our cat in to put him to sleep. A woman was in hysterics in the waiting room, and I stopped and knelt next to her and put my arms around her. She put her head on my shoulder and started telling me about how she had been through so much in the past few years, and that dog was the only thing she still had and that it had been with her throughout all of it and she couldn’t bear to lose it. It was really sad. Later, my dad told me how proud of me he was for putting my own feelings aside for her, and I was indifferent to his praise because there wasn’t any other option. That was what she needed right then, and I was in the position to give it to her.
Posted by: rach
That just made me tear up. I hope that if I ever see someone crying that I 1) have the courage to offer help and 2) the person accepts my offer. That young woman was an angel.
Posted by: Angela
What a wonderful scene to witness! And I totally understand the urge to write from it.
Posted by: Sneaksleep