The Kindness of Strangers

And why it's sometimes okay to rely on them.

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When I was a child, we were all reminded repeatedly both at home and at school about the perils of speaking to strangers.

If we found ourselves in any kind of trouble we were instructed to look for a policeman right away and ask for help. This advice seems woefully dated now since there aren’t too many policemen casually stepping it out; however, I always remember a certain Public Health nurse (much more recently) addressing a few new mums — of which I was one — about this very thing.

She was an older nurse with steel grey hair styled like a Marine and small, bright blue eyes but it was her no-nonsense, straight-up sensibility that inspired confidence. This woman KNEW stuff.

I liked her at once.

And this is what she had to say.

“We’ve always been told to tell our children, not to speak to strangers,” she began. “And it’s not wrong to do this, of course it’s not. But you need to talk to your kids about specifics. Because if they somehow get separated from you, like at the mall, you’re going to want them to speak to a stranger. Remember: a cashier, a crossing guard, even an unfamiliar teacher. All strangers.”

I think we collectively gulped. She went on:

“What I always suggest and what I told my own kids, is that if they’re in trouble, look for a woman with a stroller. Someone’s mummy. If there’s no stroller, just find a woman. They’re the safest bet - always - and they’ll help your child get back to you.”

I never forgot this advice.

(ASIDE: Never ask a creepy clown for help!!! How is this even a thing? Gah!)

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Today I am thinking about strangers in the face of all that is happening around the world and frankly, lamenting the lack of old-fashioned gentleness with one another, which seems to be considered a quaint notion at best and a sign of outdated naïveté at worst. My partner and I often reflect on the reluctance of some people to even acknowledge our “good mornings” when we pass them on our walks. They will, sometimes, offer us the kind of facial expression usually associated with stepping in dog poo, a kind of exasperated “why are you even speaking to me” look.

Important Note to These People: we are not trying to have a beer with you later - it really is just about wishing you good morning.

Yet it’s important to keep trying and we will.

I’m also thinking about the many positive interactions that I myself have had with complete strangers and how they’ve impacted me.

Picture this. It’s about 10 am on a blustery workday and my shift begins at noon. I am heavily pregnant and have decided, unwisely, that I can do a big grocery shop before work even though it’s snowing sideways out there and my winter coat no longer fastens across my vast expanse of tummy.

I plod along the aisles of the store leisurely, getting what I need - which is a lot - but by the time I’m back outside, the weather has turned and there’s much snow on the ground. I can barely blink as the heavy flakes gather on my lashes (and finding my car in a parking lot is not a super power of mine anyway) but I gamely set off — that is, until the wheels on the cart seize up.

The parking lot is now covered with a very specific kind of snow: heavy, stiff and unyielding. I always think of it as peanut-butter cookie batter.

My cart is brimming with bags and produce, loaves of bread stacked upright but the wheels are now seemingly set in concrete. I push and hoist to no avail and finally go to the other end and try to lift. Nothing is happening. (And incidentally, this story takes place in that golden era before cell phones.) Tears begin to prickle in my eyes. My dome of stomach, now open to the elements is gathering an impressive fringe of snow.

Suddenly, as if in a film, I see in the distance the silhouette of a giant, beefy man — the kind I might be frightened of if I saw him on the street — running towards me in slow-motion. Without a word, he effortlessly lifts the end of the cart up and drags it to a spot where there is a bit of a clearing. Now weeping openly (I am, as I’ve said, heavily pregnant) I begin to shout my thanks against the wind, but he is already sprinting away, offering a thumbs up over his shoulder in recognition. What a guy.

This is the best that AI can do to create my situation!

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As I began writing today, I realized that there have been so many ‘kindnesses of strangers’ in my life that I could not write about them all.

I feel so fortunate.

And not in any hoping-for-karma way, but I too have also been that “stranger” myself on occasion. I once observed a toddler having a complete, full-on wobbler at the check out. People were openly staring and tut-tutting, sharing silent “I-wouldn’t-be-putting-up-with-THAT-nonsense” glances. I could see the mum was red-faced, close to tears as she wrestled money out of her purse.

Once I had quickly paid, I caught up with her and the still howling child at the door.

“I’m not a weirdo and I get this,” I offered with a knowing smile. “Maybe I can help you carry these back to your car?” At this point, she had her son snaked over her arm like a tire as he flailed and kicked but realistically, he probably just needed a snack. She nodded thankfully, biting her lip. We set off together and she finally got him settled in the car seat as I loaded the bags in the trunk. I heard the car door click shut and then she came back around and hugged me deeply, wordlessly.

I never saw her again but I felt that something important had just happened.

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Many years ago, I was traveling alone and was waiting at the airport for my connecting trans-Atlantic flight back home. I was young and did not have a credit card and since I reasoned that I’d be home the next morning, I had spent almost all of the money that I had left.

Which was enough for a cup of tea.

But lo, it came to pass that not only would there be a massive airline strike, but no vouchers, accommodation or apologies would be issued to passengers. (Not making this up, I’m looking at you British Airways in the Seventies!)

I was stranded at Heathrow airport for 2 days and 2 nights and slept on a cigarette-ash encrusted floor with an assortment of angry, cursing, belligerent strangers.

Photo by Isaac Struna on Unsplash

One of these strangers though (an especially nice one) began chatting to me. We passed the time amiably complaining and slowly revealing details about ourselves. She had the most amazing name - Dianna Dingle — and was a loud, outspoken Brit with a platinum-blonde spiral perm and a startling, throaty laugh. When she suggested that we might get a bite to eat at the restaurant though, I was too embarrassed to admit my lack of funds. I continuously made excuses, saying I wasn’t hungry. But as time went on, she must have realized that something was up and insisted that I eat and that it would be “on her.”

As time went on and I was scrounging my second meal from her, I had to explain. I tearfully confessed my situation and apologized profusely but she was endlessly gracious and even seemed relieved. “Not even a worry, just glad to have a mate to eat with. Oh my Gawd, you’re actually doing me a favour, my love!”

From then on, every time she treated me, she made a little excuse: “Happy Tuesday from me to you, pet!” as bacon and eggs appeared or “Cheers! We might even get out of this bleeding place tomorrow!” whilst ferrying a tray of gin and tonics to our little corner. She spoke openly and at length about her sex life too which made for interesting listening. I was very flattered to be her confidante and nodded in a worldly way while laughing nervously.

I will never forget this woman and her generous spirit and she was easily one of the best tempered people at that airport. When we parted ways, we hugged one another tightly and exchanged contact information but of course we would never meet again.

Isn’t there an old expression about people coming into your life for a reason, a season — or forever?

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I leave you with the most sensible thing I’ve heard all week via an ad for RuPaul’s Masterclass. I’ve listened to it a few times so hopefully getting it right but the message stopped me in my tracks.

“With all the darkness that’s going on in the world, you can look at the darkness. But don’t stare because it will make you crazy. 
The solution is to create [your own] magic, love, dancing, joy. ”

RuPaul

This week I am trying again not to stare.

Thank you so much for being here, friend.

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