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A Small Act of Kindness
“Juan” was an exchange student at my high school. He was from the Amazon rainforest, in a small town a long way from nowhere. His father was a sort of chief of the locals, from a long line of kings or something, so Juan grew up with servants, living quite well considering the local standards.
This created problems for his American family. He had never cleaned up after himself and was offended when they suggested that he do so. He also had some trouble making friends, as he could seem arrogant and selfish, without really meaning to be. I think he tried, but moving from being royalty in a South American village to being just a regular high school kid in rural Ohio would not be so easy for a teenage boy. So, he struggled a bit. In fact, his adoptive family finally got frustrated with him and he had to find another family to stay with for the rest of the year. I couldn’t really blame them.
I don’t remember a lot about Juan but I remember that he was not super friendly and seemed somewhat aloof. I helped him a bit when he first arrived but after that, I recall only casual conversations. I was an athlete, he was not, and we had different circles of friends. After we graduated, he sort of faded from my memory, like many of my acquaintances from 25 years ago. Until something incredible happened.
I went to my 25th high school reunion on the second floor of the VFW. I was really busy with work at the time and didn’t feel like traveling back to Ohio, but I felt like I should go. I was standing there, trying to figure out how everyone had gotten so old, when all of sudden Juan comes running across the room and gives me a big hug, with tears in his eyes.
I said, “Holy cats! Juan, are you living in the States now?”
“No! I still live at home in Brazil!”
“Well, then, what are you doing in Ohio?”
Juan laughed and said, “I heard you were coming to this reunion! So, of course, I flew up to see you, my friend! It is so wonderful to see you in person, after all these years!”
I’m looking around, wondering what’s going on. One of my ex-girlfriends is across the room, and she hasn’t even come over to say hello yet. He is still hugging me. He finally lets go and says, “Could I take a picture with you? I have only one photograph of you – at Jessica’s house – do you remember? It is a small photo, but it’s in a lovely frame and is hung in a place of honor in my front foyer. Everyone that enters my home sees you, and I tell them of my good friend Dr. Bastiat! I would love to have a picture of the two of us together! Would you mind?”
“Um, sure, Juan. Um…” *click*
He emailed me a copy. I still have it somewhere. He looks ecstatic. I look bewildered.
We spoke for quite a while. It turns out that he had a rougher year in Ohio than I thought, and he felt very isolated, homesick, and sad for much of the year. But he said that I was always nice to him, and treated him well, inviting him to sit with me and my friends at the cafeteria or whatever. I really don’t remember any of this. Because, honestly, I don’t remember who I sat with at the cafeteria 25 years ago.
But Juan does.
You just never know. You never know if a small act of kindness might happen to find someone who is in a bad place at that moment. Perhaps that small act of kindness is not so small. To someone. It costs you nothing, but to that person, at that moment, it’s priceless.
Or, maybe it’s not. Maybe that small act of kindness is just that – a small act – not worthy of remembrance.
But you never know.
Juan really helped me that day. It’s hard to express how much I appreciate him taking the time and the money to fly across the world to teach me something that I should have already known, and I hope to never forget. He’ll never know how much I appreciate his small act of kindness.
If you would have told 18-year-old me that my soul would be touched so deeply by, well, by Juan, I would have laughed at you.
But you never know.
Thanks, Juan. I’ll never be able to repay you. But thanks.
Published in General
Thank you, @Doctor.
A helpful reminder about the importance of kind acts – even seemingly small ones. And also that we never really know what is going on inside people. Thank you for telling this story.
A great story. A great lesson.
I have a somewhat similar story. When I was a surgical resident at LA County hospital in the late 60s, there was a junior resident from Hong Kong. He was sort of an experiment by the chairman who was not fond of Chinese after serving in Burma in WWII. Anyway, Dominic was a nice kid but a bit of a klutz as a surgeon. I was in my fourth year so I was given him as a junior to see if I could make something of him. I took him through some cases, sewed up an esophagus he had poked a finger through and treated him fairly, I thought. The chief decided his experiment had failed and dropped Dominic after his first year. I learned he went on to another institution, finished his residency and returned to Hong Kong.
Twenty years later, some doctor friends of mine visited Hong Kong and somehow ran into Dominic. He learned where they practiced and wanted to know if they knew me. It turned out he thought I was the best surgeon, etc, etc. They also learned he was the most successful surgeon in Hong Kong. He took them to the Happy Valley racetrack to his box, etc. After I heard this, I was determined to visit but never made it.
I hope he is safe now.
There is a wonderful wisdom in every single word of this story.
Thank you.
You never know how far a little bit of kindness goes for a person who doesn’t get much! That’s a great story! I love it when I get hugs from grown young men, who then step back and remind me that I was their 4th grade teacher, and how much they loved my class!
There is a book on my Kindle which I have barely begun called Consequential Strangers: The Power of People who Don’t Seem to Matter …But really Do, by Melinda Blau and Karen L. Fingerman, PhD. Similar thesis, I think.
Thank you.
Outstanding. Thanks, Doc.
He’s in Brasil, but his name is Juan? Still, great little story, and thanks for sharing it.
My mom was a very kind person. When she died over 1000 people came to her funeral many I had not known. I heard many stories like Juan’s about my mom. I don’t think she knew the help she was to others. It was just natural.
No, I made it up to protect his privacy. I don’t know what a common name in Brazil is. Sorry about that.
Call him Gustavo, that works.
João
They even pronounce the V as we do.
Most excellent: thank you.
It reminds me of times in high school when I was surprised to learn a pretty girl even knew my name. Our expectations, self-appraisals, and distractions can blind us to others’ interests in us.
Once in college, something similar occurred but I discovered the girl’s infatuation only after it passed. Fortunate for her, but it didn’t seem fair to me!
Beautiful post, Doc!
It kind of sounds like a Jerry Seinfeld episode. He over stepped his friend level. :)
I’m curious if he learned how to behave better?
A few years ago, I encountered a grown woman who called me by name and told me how much she loved her sophomore English class & that I’d changed her life. I smiled, thanked her, and told her how happy I was for her.
I also could not remember her. Although, a few days later I did & remembered her as a student who could try my patience.
It’s humbling.
Truly, we rarely know how we touch others’ lives.
That seems to be a key – these people like your mom and like @drbastiat don’t think they’re doing anything special; they’re just being their normal selves. They have made small acts of kindness such a routine that they don’t think they’re doing anything special.
At the risk of doing remote armchair analysis, I suspect @drbastiat has only vague memories of his interactions with “Juan” because @drbastiat treated “Juan” much the same way he treated many other people.
Indeed
I’ve had too many meaningful encounters with strangers to even count.
Strangers that helped me with broken down cars, a woman who told me I had a beautiful family on one of my worst days ever.
And a recent favorite – a neighbor of my brother’s who asked if I was a younger sister? That guy will get remembered in my prayers til my dying day.
Seriously though, I’ve been the recipient of so many kindnesses I never miss a chance to help a stranger – or at a minimum tell them they look fabulous.
It must be a terrible thing to be born in a way that you can’t make connections to people. It’s funny Dr. Bastiat but your story reinforces my belief in the fallenness of people born a certain way.
One of the most fascinating posts on Ricochet was of a Jewish fellow who had read Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and became more convinced of the existence of G-d. Everything in Hitchhiker’s Guide was premised on the absurd atheism of the universe. After reading it, my fellow Ricochet member found atheism so ridiculous that it reaffirmed his faith.
In a similar fashion. I find the your story with Juan despairing.
My Mother and wife were both teachers. The theme of this story, I have witnessed frequently, with their former students. Their legacy is both broad and deep, spanning multiple decades. I always thank them for saying such words, and not being reticent.
I was a teacher as well, with many similar stories, both I have a favorite. I had a student in a high school math class. She was energetic, easily distracted and not at all interested in nuances of right triangles. Daily we would lock horns, sometimes, arguing about the stupidest things. Twenty-five years later, she was my waitress at a restaurant. I instantly recognized her, as she had made such an impression on me. She gave me a big hug and announced in a loud voice, that I was her favorite teacher. I was shocked. I reminded her of our conflicts. She laughed and said in light airy voice, “Oh, I know”. High school girls were always a mystery to me, both as high school student and as an instructor.
We were driving from Tucson to Pinetop a couple of months ago. It’s a long drive but we hadn’t been there and are still exploring Arizona. We were going up route 77 at a point where it goes through a canyon. I saw a rock in the road ahead but not in time to avoid it. It was only about 6 inches high but had a sharp top and it blew my tire. There was no shoulder but I pulled off as best I could still partly in the opposite lane. Several cars passed and two, including a sheriff, stopped long enough for me to ask if they could call 911 for us. My cellphone had no service. Nobody called that I know of. As we stood there, a big pickup truck pulled up and turned on yellow flashers. The driver got out, saw our problem, and backed his truck up to the rear of our car. He worked some levers and tow truck lifts came out of the rear of the truck.
He has a towing business in Pinetop and was on his way to Tucson with his wife as their daughter was about to have a baby. Part of the towing business is repossessing cars and that rig, I am told, is typical of that line of work. They loaded our rear tires on the forks and we, including my dog, got into the truck as they towed us 6 miles to a town with a gas station. There we were able to reach the auto club and eventually get the tire fixed. The tow truck man refused any payment and went on their way.
Ironically, on the way, about a 1/4 mile back down the road, we saw another car with three women who had hit the same little rock and had a blown tire. They were just far enough down the canyon that they had cellphone service and AAA got to them first. We all met at the gas station.
Was the little rock little enough to move?
‘Muricans. You gotta love ’em.
I’ve never seen a post with 59 Likes. Doc, you’re on a roll. Keep it up. I love to read both your screeds and your stories. I’m inspired. I want to go out and be nice to someone.
Go slow, though. You just jump into this whole “nice” thing willy-nilly, you’ll pull or sprain something.
I really don’t know. I didn’t know him that well in high school.
When I saw him at my reunion, we had a great time talking, but I don’t know what his life is like.
I hope my story didn’t make him sound like a jerk, because he’s not. He just had a real culture shock, on multiple levels, when he was 17 years old.
Lots of teenagers are self-absorbed. I certainly was. His was just exaggerated by his circumstances, I suppose. Nice guy, just in a difficult situation for him.
I think. Again, I don’t know him very well…