To the Gentleman who talked to my daughter at the Rib Crib:
Thank you.
I know my children are cute, but I often forget how cute until someone else tells me. When my daughter sat down next to you on the bench where patrons wait for tables, I honestly thought she’d get in your way. I was moving in to make sure she didn’t bother you and I quickly realized that wouldn’t be necessary. Instead, you turned to her and spoke to her like she was a grown up, and I don’t know if you noticed, but she loves being talked to like a grown up.
Thank you.
In today’s world, there’s nothing simpler while waiting for a table than to pull out a cell phone and hop on Facebook or Twitter, or send a text to a friend. You showed my daughter that it’s okay to meet new people, to joke with strangers as long as mom and dad are around, or to pass the time without a screen in your face. You held her attention by telling her stories and asking her questions about her favorite subject—her—and she giggled as she had to practically yell her answers back to you.
Thank you.
Because in a world where it’s hard to trust new people, you showed us that there are still those out there who aren’t evil. You complimented her purse and her blond hair. Your wife asked how our youngest child got his red hair, and my wife explained that it came from my side of the family. Truth be told, we adopted our children, and they don’t take anything from our genes. We didn’t want to bother you with that, besides, they aren’t adopted to us, they’re our kids.
Thank you.
Because I heard you tell her that I was a gentleman. All I did was get up when a woman walked in with a walker, and I really hope that anyone would have done the same. It’s nice to be recognized for our actions once in a while though, and I want my daughter to look up to me, and I think what you told her will carry a lot of weight. Sometimes she needs to hear a stranger say her old man is all right.
Thank you.
Because you married a woman just as nice as you are. Because she asked us questions, told us how cute our kids are, and was just an all-around pleasant person to talk to. I’d love to hear the story about how you two met, and how you fell in love. I’m sure that she was attracted to your kindness and to your toughness. I’d like to know how many years you’ve had together. What you’ve been through. How many kids you have. I hope you two have many more years of visiting Rib Crib.
Thank you.
Because, somehow, we left the restaurant at the same time and you asked me, “Where’s my little girl?” And then you stood and held the door open for my daughter and told her goodbye. You showed her you’re a gentleman yourself, and you’re also another person who was kind to her. If you knew the life she came from, you’d know how much that means to her.
Thank you.
Because on the way to the truck, my daughter looked at me and laughed, and talked about how you were from Boston, and how you kept saying your “cah was in the pahking lot.” She said you told her your wife fought in the Civil War, and she thought that was hilarious. She said you were funny, and nice, and all the things young people are looking for in older people.
So thank you, gentleman we met while waiting for a table at Rib Crib. I didn’t get your name, I don’t know where you live, and I wish I had a little more time to talk to you. Maybe one day I’ll see you again and I’ll get to thank you personally. Maybe I won’t. And just in case I don’t, I want the world to know how much your small gesture of kindness meant to me, the father of the little girl whose heart you won.
Thank you.
Hi there. My name is Travis, and I run this blog. We’ve probably met before, you know, at that convention that one time in Querqe.
You get it?
I’ve been gone a while, so I’m making jokes.
Please don’t leave yet, I swear I have a legit blog going on here. But real quick, let me get you up to speed. We’ve had the kids about 2 months now, and things are going great. We love them, they’ve adjusted rather quickly, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. I figure you guys are going to want a picture, so here you go:
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| This isn’t them, obvs. You have to wait 4 more months for that. However, they are every bit as cute as this. |
At this point I probably have one or two people still actually reading this. Lauren and Mandy, thanks, and keep going.
Today at work I helped my department head move from an office in one town to one a couple of towns over. She had accumulated quite a bit of stuff in her office, and we loaded a some of it into a couple of trucks and headed out. When we got to our destination, I started unloading the trucks. There were quite a few heavy items, and I’m notorious for being a “fewer trips is better” guy, so I tend to overexert myself on lifting, carrying, pulling, etc.
I love to watch people. Before you get that crawling feeling at the base of your spine, know that I prefer to watch them fully clothed. I think people are, among many other things, fascinating, and I love observing their individual behaviors. I discovered Chat Roulette a few weeks ago, and I honestly had a blast observing the 3 people on there who didn’t have their penises out. Fortunately, this morning provided me with an opportunity to observe some people who were fully clothed and all too helpful.
When I walked up to the entrance the first time with a heavy load in my arms, I was trying to figure out how to open the door, and a gentleman of about 45 walked up and opened it for me. I told him thank you, and continued on. A few minutes later, I walked to the door with another heavy load, and a pregnant woman jumped out of her seat and ran to open up the door. Smiling, I thanked her, and continued on my way.
I had one major load left, and as I was carrying it to the door I realized that I was going to be able to open the door on my own this time. However, just through the door, I spotted something that absolutely thrilled my heart. A handicapped African American lady of about 60 struggled to her feet, grabbed her cane, and walked over to the door to open it for me. We kind of opened it together, and I walked through, thanking her politely.
Three trips to the door, three people being kind. The office I was at is an Unemployment Office. It is the place people go when they’ve lost their job, they are looking for a job, or are just generally down on their luck. People usually aren’t in good moods at the Unemployment Office. They aren’t kind, they aren’t thinking of anything but their situation, and they are usually stressed out and dealing with wounded pride. I’ve been in the office, I know how it feels, and I can’t say I blame anyone for feeling like that.
However, three people – two of them in “conditions” – went out of their way today to commit a simple act of kindness that reminded me of why I love the human race. The fact that people are basically good. We may not all believe in the same God, we may not all be having a great day, but deep down there is a good person in all of us. A person who loves their fellow man, who wants to help out when they can, and who knows what the right thing is and tries to do it most times. I’m not saying we’re all perfect, and I’m not saying even the kindest person is going to grab every opportunity that comes their way. As much as I say I hate people, I still believe in the basic good.
To the three people that helped me today: You inspire me, and you give me hope for us humans. May we all learn to be so considerate.
Thank you.