A friend from New York recently asked, “Do we even remember what kindness is?”
Our phone conversation was all over the ballpark, and we never got back to her question, but her remark kept bugging me, popping into my head at random times all week long. My friend’s work puts her in front of a screen for much of the day, and I suspect she also spends some time on social media.
I dropped Facebook long ago, but like her, I too sit in front of my laptop for hours every day, writing and browsing various sites for news of the world and ideas for my work. And it’s true, the headlines and commentators I read rarely display the milk of human kindness.
But what about the real world? The one made up of flesh-and-blood people rather than digital bells and whistles? Is kindness becoming extinct there as well?
After giving that thought some consideration, I decided to put on my pith helmet, metaphorically speaking of course, and go in search of that supposedly rare creature.
That trek quickly opened my eyes. I’m delighted to report that kindness is commonplace, alive, and well.
In the public library, I saw a homeschooling mom surrounded by a tribe of kids holding the heavy glass door open for an elderly gentleman who was carrying an armload of books.
In the coffee shop that I frequent is a young student who has made that place a sort of permanent study hall. He’s befriended the baristas, gives a smile to everyone who enters the cafe’s sitting area, and has on occasion offered his table—he likes the big one in the back of the room—to a family and moves his papers and books to a two-seater.
When I was making an appointment with a dermatologist, the receptionist kept calling me “Honey”—hey, I live in the South—and then she said, “Let me try and finagle for you for just a minute.” Finagle she did, for she set me up to see the doctor the following week rather than having to wait until May.
My daughter’s family was visiting for the weekend, and at one point, one of my granddaughters sat for half an hour reading to her 5-year-old brother. No one told her to do this, and I’m pretty sure Maggie’s not a fan of the Asterix books. No—this was, pure and simple, an act of kindness.
Everywhere I looked on this expedition, I also saw people practicing their manners, which is, after all, just another face of kindness. What are “please” and “thank you” if not tiny lightning bolts of goodwill?
So here’s my theory: kindness is all around us, but maybe we’ve forgotten to register it. Or maybe it’s so common we don’t even notice it. It’s like that sweat-stained, ragged ball cap some guy wears when he mows the lawn, so familiar to him that he doesn’t even feel it on his head.
Some people may disagree with that conclusion. Maybe they don’t see the world as a kind place at all. Maybe to them, it’s even a jungle, where the ruling creed is “stick it to others before they stick it to you.” They might despise that jungle law, but believe that to survive in the workplace and in the world, kindness is best left at home.
So here’s a suggestion, or if you prefer, an experiment you might attempt. Try bringing more kindness to work, to school, to the store or coffee shop, and even to your own home. Use those words “please” and “thank you.” Slip a buck into the barista’s tip jar. Compliment your fellow workers.
Then see what happens.
And when we are made kind, we also make the world a more civilized place.
