The Generosity of Strangers

[Kiltedfirepiper]

a few months ago I took my daughter to a little breakfast joint in town so my wife could meet with a speech theripist for our son ( the Doc doesnt think he's progressing fast enough ) well we were eating breakfast at the "bar" seating and a gentleman sitting next to us asked if I was a Firefighter ( I was wearing my union t-shirt at the time) I said yes and he asked if I was involved with any of the area wildfires in recent years. I was, and we discussed some of the problems with said fires. well little girl needed to use the bathroom, I excused us and took her in to go. when I came out he was walking out the door, I noticed he left his jacket and cought up with him and made sure he got it.

I noticed the waitress' were watching him go, then they said "ok he's gone" and came over and told me he paid for our breakfast, and to say thank you for your service.

13 years, and even after 9-11 thats never happened to me before.

anytime I see someone in uniform, particularly military, if I can I will pay their tab if I can afford it. it was nice to have someone do the same for me lol

KFP

[piperdbh]

Yesterday evening I was at the frienldy neighborhood Wal_Mart store, where an enderly gentleman was loading his purchases into his vehicle. A younger man came up to him and told him that he (the older man) had left a bag at the check-out register, and that the cashier was holding it for the older man. As the older gentleman was processing this, I stood back and watched, just to see what happened. He then caught what the younger man was saying, and headed back inside to get his cookies.
I couldn't help thinking about this thread, and how the younger could have easily picked up the bag from inside the store, promising to give it to the older man, but instead keeping it for himself. But he didn't. He looked around in a fairly large parking lot and found the older man, who appreciated the "heads up" about his forgotten purchases.

[Galician]

Nearly thirty years ago, I had the chance to visit Hungary, my grandparent's homeland, which was then behind the Iron Curtain. Due to a last minute change of itinerary, I wound up arriving in the evening, only to find that the goverment exchange office (the only legimate means of exchanging currency) was closed.

Not speaking the language, I had no idea of how to get to where I was going. Speaking some German, I asked a man who was passing if he could direct me. Luckily, German tourism made that language common enough to the locals that he too spoke a little. He took me to a bus which he said would take me to my destination. Not having been able to exchange my money for the local currency, he gave me some to board the bus.

While riding on it, I realized that I had no idea of where to get off, so I showed the address to some of the people around me. A whole round of jabbering started, I can only guess that the people were arguing about the best way to direct me. Shortly after that, everybody gestured for me to get off the bus.

When I did that, I again had no idea of what to do. I stopped a young couple passing me and showed them the address. They directed me to the metro station there. I again had to indicate that I had none of their money. I still remember how the young wife immediately reached into her purse and gave me a few coins which would allow me to enter the metro.

There were still more adventures in arriving at my destination, but I share this to show the impact this kind of generosity had on me. The amounts they shared might not have been large, but their willingness to share has always stayed with me.

[WClarkB]

Goes to show:
"for some have entertained angels unaware"

[BroosterB1]

This is a great place for this post. 500 wow.

When I was twenty working on the two one, I was working construction in California. I had a particularly difficult contract to do, and was feeling rather lost and forgotten. I had a really rough day at work, a worse night by myself, and went to work the next morning rather early. I was on the job site before the rest of the team showed up, and watched the sunrise over the "Greater Conjo Valley", when it hit me. I could be doing this same thing, older more bent over, with bad knees and back in thirty years! the thought was more than sobering, it was down right scary!

That's when it really hit me. All of the Bozos (the word we used for the guys who called the shots) had a degree of one type or another. I was smart, but they had the piece of paper. Till then I had though of school more of a nuisance than anything else. For the first time it was an advantage.

The more I thought about it, the more it p'd me off. Then the foreman showed up. I told him my solution to the problem we had. All we needed was the right tool, which happened to be a crane. I was told not only no, but H no, and get back up there and figure a way to fix the problem cheap. Not fix it right, but cheap. I lost it.

12 hour later I was headed east on I-10 in my 1963 F-250 Mexican red metallic truck with Pink Floyd "Welcome to the Machine" pumping out of the 8-track. I might be broke, but I was smiling. Just west of Mesa I decided I needed to see a friend in Las Cruces. So instead of heading north to Albuquerque, I headed south and east.

Now one thing I could count on Old Red, was loaded like a mule she got 10 miles to the gallon, and loaded light she got 10 miles to the gallon. I had left California on emotion, on on planning, and the miles ate into my small stash of cash. I was fine, until Wilcox.

Old Red choked and shuttered and said "we're sucking fumes", I had just enough momentum to glide into a small truck stop / café dinner. I reached into the glove box stash to find nada, nothing, no bucks, no dinero. I felt that kick in the gut that said "boy are we sc**wd". I just sat there, numb. 9:10 in the morning Wilcox Arizona, the end of July, this was not going to be fun.

Then I saw it. In the window of the dinner was a small hand written sign. Dishwasher needed. So, I screwed up the courage, stuffed the hair under the hat, and walked in. The waitress was Flo, or Jo, or Barb, too tight shirt, short skirt and dyed hair and thirty pounds and twenty years past smoking; but still pretty hot. "Whatcha want lover?" "Uh, the dishwasher position, you still need one?" "Oh, hon you gotta talk to Bob, sit a spell and I'll go get him." I don't know where she went but for dinner the size of half a dollar, I sure didn't see an office. I really don't remember if it was ten or fifteen minutes, but it seemed like forever. Then Bob walks through the kitchen doors.

Bob has had a hard life; written on his face by too many cigarettes, too much whiskey, worries that I had no clue about. A poster child for a heart attack, but to me, he looked like a new chance. "So, you need a job?" " Yes, Sir". "You ever work a restaurant" "Yes, Sir". "You wanna show me?" "Yes sir, you bet".

I get up and let him show me into the kitchen, the breakfast dishes still sitting on the side board from an earlier rush. The flat top was greasy, needed to be cleaned and the stove had at least a pot of beans all over the burners. Bob tossed me an apron, said "I gotta do my books, see what you can do in here". I think he might have had a bemused smile, but was trying to hide it. I looked at the clock five till ten.

By ten thirty, I had the dishes squared away. By ten fifty the flat top was looking usable, and by 11:10 the stove was passable. I checked the selves, the reefer, and the prep table; stocked the bread bin with white and whole wheat for the toaster, topped off the fryer, and stocked the roll away with patties and cheese for burgers. 11:25 no cook. Flo rolls up sticks the ticket on the wheel and says "order!". No, cook. No Bob. I reach up and look at the ticket 1 PMlt ff s w 1000. Patty Melt, French fries, salad with 1000 Island. And we're off.

Time in the kitchen is quantum, it flows of it's own accord. When the "rush" hits it goes both ways at once. You are working at a tremendous pace, multi-tasking: cooking, frying, toasting, spreading, creating, all while keeping the orders straight, in the right order and each table or booth coming together, all at the same time. Hamburger, Patty melt, Tuna Melt, Cheeseburger, fried Fish, club sandwich hold the cheese, open face, bowl a soup, Hamburger, Grilled cheese and on and on and on. Till it stops. then is over, and you can hear the buzzing of the flies and the wop wap wop wap of the swamp cooler, the dripping of the faucet and the ticking of the clock. 2:15.

I pulled a coke, had a smoke, then headed back in to do what I had been hired for, the dishes, except this time I had till 4:45 to clean, stock and prepare for the dinner rush. I guess I could sleep in the bed of the truck tonight, tomorrow maybe find a place to get a shower. But for now, well for now, I was needed. Then I saw Bob.

He wasn't exactly grinning, but I could tell he was happy. Maybe a little nip early in the day to ease the pain, but I could tell he was happy. "Cook didn't show, so I covered for him" "Thanks, place looks good. You've done this before". "Yeah, I like to cook". "New Mexico, Huh?" "Yes, Sir" "Albuquerque or Cruces?" "I'm from Albuquerque, but a friend goes to state in Cruces, wanted to see him, check out the school".

"Truck's got a Lock-box, you need better locks, you gotta have over a grand in tools in there" "Yes, sir just too busy to get that done" "Man's never to busy to take care of his tools, take care your tools, they take care of you". "Yes, Sir, I'll remember that. "Tell you what, go ahead and finish out, see me out front when you get done".

Wonderful, great, all I needed was a hundred bucks, week's worth of work, and I could be down the road, now? I'd been fired before, but for what? What did I do? I mumbled and grumbled through the next forty five minutes; finished up took the apron off, and headed out front. Bob had a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face.

"Way I see it, you kinda saved my butt. So, you start at 9:30, you work till 4:15 means I owe you for 7 hours. Round here the girls get to keep the tips so, I need to pay you what $3.50 an hour? So, here's twenty five, no taxes. Oh and I noticed that truck of yours, got no gas. So I pulled her around and topped her off. Rains coming in from the west, you leave now you'll hit Cruses by ten, maybe eleven. Your a good man, hard worker, I'd be proud to have you here, but you need to see your buddy, decide what you what to do. If you ever need a job, you got one here. Now get" Bob offered me his hand, I shook it, looked him in the eye and thanked him.

I headed out to Old Red. Not only had Bob, topped the tank, but he'd washed her as well. There was a new Zippy lube sticker on the windshield, and an envelope taped to the staring wheel. The envelope just said "Brooster".

Inside was a letter, very simple and to the point, written in the hand of a man who might not have made it our of the ninth grade. "It just said "Thought you might need some help, when you can, don't pay me back give it to the next guy" Bob. Inside the letter was 15 brand new twenty dollar bills. Twelve of which were used to pay my admission fee to New Mexico State University.

Several years ago I went back to see if I could find Bob. The road had been widened. The Truck station and Dinner were long gone. I asked, nobody could remember what happened to Bob or Flo, or the cook who never showed up.

[PiobBear]

I had piped a wedding and reception, when an elderly woman with a heavy accent came up to me, and in tears related the following story.

In 1939 she and her family fled Poland ahead of the blitzkreig, and as a frightened girl of 14 she and her family were resettled in Glasgow, arriving with literally nothing but the shirts on their backs, and speaking not a single word of English. Despite being foreigners in a strange land where they didn't understand the language or customs, and despite all of the wartime shortages and rationing, the Glaswegians made them welcome and freely shared all that they had with them.
Her mother had instructed her repeatedly throughout her life that she was to tell this story to her daughters, and her daughters to their daughters, in order that all future generations of their family will always remember of the debt of gratitude which they owe to the hospitality and generosity of the people of Scotland.