WordPress Weekly Challenge: Honey versus Vinegar

Small moments of kindness peek through our everyday lives, from your neighbors’ “Good morning!” to a surprise “I’ll take care of that for you” at the office. This week, we want you to explore what that kindness means to you, and share it with others.

Kindness has many faces and of course you can always say it with flowers if someone has helped you or saved an embarrassing situation, but it does not often happen that you are at the receiving end of the flowers. I was active many years in the voluntarily first aid group in our village. We were not asked to be kind, it was our duty to be kind. If you saw an accident happen you helped. Kindness means to me that someone has helped without asking them to help. It is a rare occurrence everyone is busy with their own life and affairs but it happens now and again and your faith in the human race is perhaps restored, be it in a small dimension.

It was a day sometime in late spring. The sun appeared now and again and temperatures climbed a little: definitely too warm for the winter jacket. I decided to rethink my dress organisation. It was not cold enough for jeans with a handy zipped up pocket containing the purse with credit cards and money and second pocket containing the keys. I decided on a lightweight jacket and trousers. I did not have my special thief-proof pockets, but I had a pocket in the jacket big enough to contain everything, so I thought.

My husband and I arrived at the supermarket, parked the car and travelled on the escalator to the first floor where the hunting could begin. It was the usual shopping expedition for food and other sundries. We arrived at the cash desk and I put my hand in the pocket of the jacket to take out my purse. Huh! no purse. I looked in the other pocket as in such situations you try everything but no purse. It was no longer there – how embarrassing: Mr. Swiss (husband) to the rescue. He produced his credit card and we escaped with the shopping.

I was naturally quite disturbed. It was clear that I had lost my purse. It had fallen out of the pocket in the jacket, which was not as safe and sure as the blue jeans zipped up pockets. Oh dear and what to do. There is a general counter in the supermarket for queries, so I looked in and asked if anyone had surrendered a purse.

“What is in the purse?” asked the lady at the desk.

I listed the various credit cards and money which was not so much. “My name is on the credit card” I said and gave the lady my name.

She opened a drawer and there was my purse, complete with everything.

“A lady found it.”

“Do you have her name, address or telephone no?”

“Yes“

I still had my mobile phone, which was in the other pocket in the jacket – still.

I now had my purse and cards and sat on a bench and dialled the lady’s number that had found it.

She told me that it was not the first, but about the third time she had found a purse with money and returned it. No-one had ever bothered to thank her for finding it and this was the first time. I sensed from her voice that she was probably about my golden oldie age. She was so happy that someone had taken the trouble to thank her. I was, of course, overjoyed to have all my possessions again.

It was only a month before when I had boarded the train to the airport and in the crush when boarding the train, that a thief and put his hand in my bag and stolen my purse, this time containing my Swiss identity card, credit cards and money. I was stranded at the next station, luckily with my mobile telephone and could stop all my cards by phone and inform Mr. Swiss what had happened. I did not even have the money for a return ticket. Mr. Swiss paid it at our local station and they told the next station to give me the ticket. This is actually the reason why I began to put all my valuables in a sealed up pocket and no longer a handbag, but this was only possible in Winter. And now my purse had again disappeared, but this time I was lucky.

I finished my conversation with the finder of my purse, thanked her again. She was so happy that someone had at last acknowledged her help.

Before I left for home I bought a box of chocolates known as Merci. I find them the best way to thank someone for their help. The lady called me at home the next day and was almost in tears. She thanked me for the chocolates and said it was the first time ever that someone had acknowledged her help and that there were still some good people in the world.

For me something natural, but probably not for all. 

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WordPress Daily Prompt: The Kindness of Strangers

When was the last time a stranger did something particularly kind, generous, or selfless for you? Tell us what happened!

What do these models of past Russian Presidents have to do with the theme of today’s prompt? It is due to the kindness of strangers that you remain on this blog, reading further, and not deciding to leave, thinking who is this crazy Angloswiss with models of Russian Presidents. We only know each other through blogs, through pingbacks (those that are not allergic to pingbacks) and meeting on the daily path of prompt, when it works.

First of all a little history to these little models of past Russian presidents: it was many moons ago when I decided to learn Russian. I was then at the interesting age - around fifty years old, when you know everything but no-one believes you. I was again one of the oldest in the language course. Some of the younger members were agile enough to risk a few months in Moscow learning the language where it was spoken and the acts of kindness were that they brought you a present. There is a souvenir in Russia known as “Babushka Dolls” (Babushka = grandmother) with lots of little old ladies put inside each other, but as I was probably on the wrong side of 50 for such a gift, my friend brought me “President dolls”, which still possess a place of honour on my bookshelf. They can be screwed open in the middle and placed inside each other, Lenin being the smallest and Gorbatchov at that time the largest. I almost lived with them all, except for the two on the right, Lenin and Stalin. Lenin was the daddy of it all, the no. 1 communist leader (although he borrowed the idea from a guy known as Karl Marx) and Stalin died when I was ten years old, so I really only have a vague memory of his funeral on the TV.

I suppose there might be a more modern version today, showing Mr. Vladimir Putin as the daddy of them all, so if he is not stabbed, shot or poisoned, he will still be the No. 1 of the President dolls.

So now I have been able to show the photo of my little souvenir brought from Russia as a gift of kindness, and you may now relax, having got it all behind you.

Unfortunately during my life of toil, blog and unexpected happenings I cannot remember one physical case of a stranger being particularly kind, generous or selfless. Do I have a “Beware of the Dog” sign hovering over my head? Are there two long corner teeth resembling fangs and dripping blood? Perhaps it is the general unfriendly aura that surrounds me when I walk through the streets pushing people out of my way.

I remember once, a few years ago, on a working day when I paid a visit to my physiotherapy bloke. I believe I was recovering from my broken arm and he was manipulating it back to the normal arm world. On my way to the station after the visit I had to cross the road and there was an open manhole cover: before you grip the sides of your office chair and clutch the keyboard in fright, no I did not fall down the manhole. I am very careful with manhole covers. Unfortunately I was so careful that I did not notice the two cables leading into the manhole and yes, I tripped over them. No problem, I suppose I did resemble a nun giving her vows as she lays prostrate on the church floor, but this was the pavement, and I was not praying, just cursing under my breath and checking what was broken.

Luckily nothing was broken and yes, no-one bothered to help. It resembled one of those film scenes, where the victim is beaten and left lying on the ground, and the crowds ignore him and walk past. I believe it was a Lino Ventura film where it happened, but so long ago that the grey cells of the brain that are never renewed when they die, took the memory with them. Anyhow to continue, there I was the star of a gangster movie and ignored.

I pulled myself together and discovered that my two legs were still functioning so I stood. My jacket had a black stain from the ground and I believe there were a few other marks on my face and body. Where did I fall? Just a few steps from the entrance to my doctor. This was perfect, so I dragged myself into the practice and arrived at the desk. The nurse threw a glance in my direction, and immediately called the doctor. No words were really exchanged. Within a few minutes I was lying horizontally on the bed and being examined. I was cleaned up, the cuts and bruises doctored and released with the warning to take the day off and not return to work, which I did not intend. I walked limped to the railway station, which was luckily just around the corner, and arrived home. I called the office to say I had an accident and would remain at home for the day. Through my history of accidents that just happen most of the time, my boss told me to take it easy and only to return to the office when I feel OK. I have a certain reputation for falling down in the wrong places.

So there we are. Sorry no stories of Swiss heroism, William Tell similar occasions and if he had to shoot the apple off my head he would probably have shot through the head and not the apple, the story of my life. So thank you blogger colleagues for your visits to admire my gifted writings, and I will see you all on the flip side on the grid, if it is working. That would be another story, but as I have not yet received an apology, explanation or acknowledgement of my complaint from WordPress, I will be patient. I realise they have such a stress, especially after the great new look.

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WordPress Daily Prompt: Moment of Kindness

Describe a moment of kindness, between you and someone else — loved one or complete stranger.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us KINDNESS.

The day of our Autumn fair
There was hustle and bustle
A temporary building site
Tents were constructed to hold the exhibits
The trees were not forgotten
Money was spent to protect them
With a red plastic coat
To ensure they survived the to and fro
Thank you our town

An underground train in the Paris Metro system
On the way, my path crossed that of a young lady
Dressed in the clothes of her country
She was not French
She was squatting on cushions
A little boy lying next to her, sleeping
She stretched her hand out
Begging for what I could spare
She was not alone, but I could not give to all
My last day in Paris, a purse full of change
Worthless in my own country where beggars are rare
Something we would think twice about
Perhaps someone might see me!
This was Paris, a town for all, wealthy or poor
So I gave all my change
She took my hand in hers and bowed her head
Her Merci’s were many
I felt guilty for my life that had everything and more