It was months ago now, when I saw him standing there staring at the shelves holding ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard and the like. I remember thinking that he looked overwhelmed or confused. He was an older man, perhaps in his eighties. He was small in stature, slight build, and had a gentle demeanor. He was standing there with an intent focus.
He held no basket. He pushed no cart. I watched a moment as he seemed to be searching the shelves. "Excuse me, sir, you seem to be searching for something. I'm happy to help you if I can."
He looked up at me. "Well, I'm a looking for Bunker Hill hot dog sauce." He pointed to the condiments before us. "It ought to be right here with all that other stuff you put on a hot dog."
"Yes sir, that sure makes sense. Bunker Hill, that comes in a can, doesn't it? Maybe they keep it on the aisle with all the different kinds of soup. If you will wait right here, I'll go over there and look."
I set off pushing my cart to the aisle where I expected to find Bunker Hill hot dog sauce. Well, I looked on every shelf among every kind of soup and found no can with a Bunker Hill label. It took longer than I expected and when I rolled my cart back to where I had left him, he was no longer there.
I walked to the end of the aisle and then down the outside edge looking into every aisle as I passed. When I spotted him again, he was moving slowly down the cereal aisle. His gait was more a shuffle. I assumed he had given up on me and set off on his own wandering up and down each aisle. I rolled my cart down to where he was and told him Bunker Hill was not with the soup as I had thought it might be.
He said, "I don't know where to find it. But I know they got it because I've bought it here before."
"Yes sir, I guess I'm just looking in the wrong place," I said. If you will stay here with my cart, I'll find someone who will know."
I left him standing by my cart (hoping he would stay put) and set off to the front of the store. At one of the registers there was a man who appeared to be about my age. I told him about the older gentleman and his search and my unsuccessful attempt to locate the Bunker Hill hot dog sauce. This man walked with me to where I had left the older gentleman standing in the aisle.
The employee spoke with the gentleman and said, "I believe I know where that is. Let's walk this way." The older gentleman moved slowly; we adjusted our pace to his as we were guided to an aisle where several cans of Bunker Hill hot dog sauce waited. The older gentleman looked up, "I knew they had it here. Thank you, both. Thank you for your help." The employee smiled and said, "glad to help," and walked back to the front of the store.
I watched as the gentleman reached up and took one can. One. Then he moved slowly to the end of the aisle. I stood keeping an eye on him as he shuffled on to the checkout. That one can of Bunker Hill was the only item he purchased.
I stood off to the side a bit and watched as he shuffled out the door. Several stories danced through my head before I could move from that spot.
1.He and his wife had begun to prepare a supper of hot dogs and all the fixings when they realized they didn't have their favorite topping. He came to the store to bring it home in time for supper.
2. He had outlived his wife and now he cooks very little. Meals for one are not fun and he keeps them very simple. Hot dogs and Bunker Hill.
3. He is living on very limited funds; and at his age he doesn't see the point in having a stock of groceries in the cabinet. So he buys only what he needs for a day or two at a time.
I came back to the present moment and moved on down the aisle. After a few feet, I paused and turned around. I rolled my cart back to that spot and placed a can of Bunker Hill hot dog sauce in my cart. I don't know why, but I needed one. I thought of more stories, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had not introduced myself and I had not asked him his name. This realization saddened me.
I finished my shopping and headed to the checkout. The cashier began running my items through her scanner. The man who had helped me find Bunker Hill hot dog sauce came over to bag my groceries. He put a few things in the first bag and paused. He looked me in the eyes and said, "That was very kind, what you did for that man."
"He seemed overwhelmed," I said. "He knew what he wanted but just wasn't sure how to find it. I was happy to help him. And thank you, for helping me locate it for him. I thought it would have been with the soup."
"Well," he said. "I've worked here a long time, and I can tell you, it's rare to see anyone take the time you spent with that man to help a stranger anymore."
I nodded and said, "Isn't that sad? If you and I are lucky, and I hope we are, we will be that old man one day. When we are, and when we move more slowly through this world, I sure hope there will be a spirit of kindness alive in folks." He nodded and I pushed my groceries out to my car.
I left wondering about kindness and just how common it is. When I was young the practice of helping others was commonplace. In fact, it was modeled by adults and expected of us kids. In recent years I've heard some folks argue that kindness isn't enough, that we must move beyond, "just be kind." Well, yes, there is so much more to work toward. But if common kindness isn't common anymore, then we have a great deal of work to do, and that work begins at the baseline. We have to remember and teach others that each act of kindness is an acknowledgement of the basic human worth of another. When we pause our routine, step out of the flow of our thoughts to assist another we acknowledge the presence, the needs, the dignity, and the worth of another person.
Friends, it seems that we are moving away from the idea that kindness is strength. We seem to be losing the belief that being kind does not diminish us in anyway. Rather, it lifts us and those we assist. Somehow, we seem to be adopting an attitude of self before all else. Somehow it seems that we are becoming a people who believe that our values, our truths, are absolute and, therefore, values and truths of another person that do not align with ours makes them not only wrong, but also less than. The practice of othering has become more common than kindness. The idea that any difference in beliefs, mores, attitudes, politics, religion, origin, ethnicity, race, sexual orientation, or any number of identity markers makes a person automatically placed in a category of other. This distinction alone sets us up to act as if "otherizing" is normal, acceptable, even necessary.
Before we move further down that path let's pause and reflect on the importance of common kindness. Let us be reminded why, even a generation ago, common kindness was considered a positive marker of good character. Let us revisit how making kindness common again changes those who receive the kindness, and perhaps to a greater extent, it changes those who extend it.
Lester Laminack
October 1, 2024