South Central Good Deeds

How do actions impact young boys?

When we act in unexpected ways, what are the results?

I stood in line waiting for a tired-looking mom, appearing fresh off work with a cute 5-year-old squirmy son in tow, as she struggled to pay for a prescription. The boy fingered the candy displayed beside him as I glanced at my phone. We both pretended not to notice the trouble ahead but were aware.

Making a marginally funny face at the boy, he smiled tentatively.

Good, I thought, be careful with strangers.

Someone else joined the line as the cashier took another card and swiped it through the reader. “Nope — it’s not working. Do you have cash?” The customer shook her head.

“How much is it?” I asked quietly. The cashier answered.

“I can cover it.” I handed the mom a 50-dollar bill for a $20 purchase.

She looked a little concerned and began to object.

“You need the medicine. I’ve been in your shoes. Take it.”

Her son looked up at me and I felt a little self-conscious.

“Maybe you’ve been having a bad day. Now, you can say ‘It wasn’t all bad’.”

The cashier and mom shared an ‘is-this-for-real?’ look.

As the mom handed over the bill, the boy smiled and repeated “A bad day wasn’t all bad”.

I dropped my packages and let him help as his mom tried to give me the change.

Sounding overwhelmed and flustered, I told her to keep it, thinking she might need it more.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Sometimes moms send and receive telegraphed looks. She needed help right then, and I could. I wasn’t expecting anything, didn’t make a scene, and knew the desperation of being a young mom struggling to make things work.

They thanked me and left.

I was impressed the child hadn’t tried to get candy.

Relieved at being alone outside, I quickly drove off.

Years later I was one of the last to board a flight, struggling with a purse full of medications and an oxygen concentrator as I tried to recover from a botched back surgery.

“There’s nowhere to fit your purse once you stow the oxygen device under the seat in front of you — we’re full. I’ll hold it up here in first class.” said the flight attendant.

I shook my head, “I need my medicine and inhaler if anything goes wrong.”

An A-list actress looked up and asked where my seat was, then quickly switched places.

I recognized her despite the hat and glasses and wondered if she’d be swarmed with unwanted attention. But she was a pro at navigating these situations. With a wink, she assumed a persona I’d never have imagined and made her way back.

After the flight, I waited off to the side. She and another woman walked fast and appeared to be in deep conversation. Effective — most people wouldn’t intrude. With a quick glance, she noted the bills in my hand, quickly waved her hand, and said “Oh, no.”

She didn’t need my money. She was starring in films that broke box office records on a regular basis. But I’d never have guessed those things based on her presentation.

I quickly thanked her, only offering because it made me feel better.

The mother and son from so long ago have crept into my thoughts many times.

How did I make them feel? What did they think, and was it discussed? Had it made an impression on the boy? It’s easy to have an impact on a child when you act out of the ordinary. I’m pretty sure the mom didn’t feel slighted or indebted.

We all had different skin tones and didn’t sound alike.

People see what they want and expect. After years of being the “new kid in class,” my brothers and I became unnaturally good at fitting in anywhere, and nowhere. Social media algorithms classify me wrong all the time. It happens when you have wide interests and identify with lots of people.

Religion, politics, struggles, and successes don’t matter when we strip away the labels. We’re all people, just trying to make our way the best we can.

I’ve read do-gooders are actually selfish people who give to charity and help others for recognition, or to make themselves feel good.

Maybe.

A little kid was getting uncomfortable as his mom got more stressed.

I needed access to my purse on a crowded plane.

Fixing those small problems didn’t take a huge sacrifice. We didn’t survey each other to determine if beliefs, motives, or personal preferences were in alignment.

I’ll never be nominated for sainthood and I’m good with that. Yet, when I take stock in an “It’s a Wonderful Life” movie kind of way, I keep going back to the scene in the big pharmacy. Did I cross a line? Not do enough? Did it matter in the end?

I’ll never know.

Thanks for reading!

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