human kindness

"No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted." -Aesop

I've been taking the bus to/from my Friday morning class. I'm not a huge fan of the smell, the sometimes unpleasant people, and the constant jerk of the brakes as the bus driver careens through traffic, but I tolerate these things in order to:
a) avoid parking in the nightmare that is the PSU campus on weekdays,
b) avoid using up precious gas,
c) read those articles I was supposed to have done for class, and
d) you know, help the environment and all that earth-y, Portland hippie stuff.

There are rules on the bus to follow, like giving up your seat to elderly or disabled riders. Then there are unwritten rules, which are surprisingly instinctual, even if you've never ridden before. Stuff like being careful not to sit on something gross, or to make eye contact with anyone, or to talk with anyone no matter how nice they may seem. Also, you best have your fare ready when you board the bus, because the other riders will NOT HAVE IT when you stand there digging out that odd nickel at the bottom of your purse. They just won't, so be prepared.

I'm actually lucky to live pretty far from campus, because it also means that there is always a seat available for me. This morning, I had my earphones in so I didn't notice we'd been stopped at one stop for quite awhile. When I finally did look up, I saw the entire crowd of riders staring at a diminutive homeless man with a long, straggly, white-ish beard. He was holding a baggy of pennies and nickels. Slowly, he fed the change into the meter and it was soon evident that he would not have enough. The bus was silent- it was not the usual, huffy sounds that people reserve for those people who didn't plan ahead- but an awkward silence that people reserve for guiltily contemplating what to do.

In the lull, a short, Hispanic teen appeared at the meter and dumped in a handful of change. We all seemed to draw a sigh of relief collectively. Disheveled, confused, and unaware of what had just occurred, the man took a seat at the front of the bus. We watched the teen make his way back to the center of the bus to stand in front of an older, African American woman. He said loudly, "Thank you for the change, ma'am." He clearly wanted credit to go to this woman, who looked as though she had very little to give away herself. She waved her hand dismissively and looked down, refusing to accept thanks.

My eyes filled with tears; I heard people all around me choking up, as well. There was a distinct sense of community, all of us joined for a moment of appreciation. Not one of us had even considered extending kindness, but this woman had shown it generously and without hesitation. As riders exited the bus, they stopped to whisper a thank you or offer a dollar, but she continued to wave it all away. As I exited, I made eye contact with her and we nodded.

She reminded us all of what humans can be at their best.