Kit and I just got back from our trip to NE Texas. One of my favorite small towns is Paris, Texas. This trip was special. Here's a copy of the letter I just sent to the editor of the local newspaper:

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I’m a lucky guy. Each year, I get to travel on business to Paris. Paris, Texas, that is........

As we walked into the restaurant, I noticed the couple sitting in quiet conversation as they finished their meal. He had a western shirt and the hands of a man who worked the soil. She wore the modest headcovering of the Mennonite Brethren. Kit and I took the table next to them, and they smiled a welcome.

Kit is my middle son. He was born with Down Syndrome, does not have the ability of speech, and is now almost blind. He is my constant companion, my friend, the light and joy of my life. Most of what I know about courage, compassion and unconditional love, I’ve learned from him. I am always amazed by the way he seems to touch the lives of strangers during our daily journeys. I’ve often said that people look into the mirror of his face and see there, something they like most about themselves.

As we walked along the buffet line, I filled his plate with his favorites and then sat, visiting with the young waitress for a moment. That’s when something happened that had never happened to us before. The couple we first noticed got up to leave and the gentleman hesitated a moment behind Kit’s chair. Placing his large and rough hand on my son’s shoulder, he quietly said something about what a fine boy this was, then quickly laid something on the table beside his plate.

I reached over and picked up the folded twenty-dollar bill, but before I could say anything, the man had vanished through the door. I thought to run after him, to thank him, but immediately I realized that he had carefully planned his exit, to preserve his sense of anonymity. As I sat there, holding the money he had left, I thought of what I would have said to him, and what he would have said to me. I imagined that he would have told me it was not that large a gift, and that no thanks were necessary. He would have said that it was just something he wanted to do - no big deal, just a way to share the blessings in his own life.

When I had finished my meal, I sat holding the twenty dollar bill, and thought about how I might thank the man who had so quietly shared a part of his life, his toil, with us. Suddenly I realized a plan that I thought he would approve of. I called the manager over to our table and told him of the stranger’s gift. I placed the twenty in his hand, and told him that if he had anyone on his staff that he knew was having a hard time right now, to pass it along to them. In a few minutes a young waitress came to thank us for the gift. I told her the story of the man who left it, and told her that it carried the requirement for her to likewise share something with another. She nodded her understanding, and I knew the gift had become two.

Before we left, the manager returned to the table, and handed me two free meal tickets for our next trip. The gift had become three. Returning to our motel, I though of the lady who worked the desk on the night shift. She always remembered us from year to year, always greeted us with a smile and always made sure we had a ground-floor room so Kit wouldn’t have to deal with stairs. She was surprised when I gave her the meal tickets, and then told me about her grandkids and her dreams for them. The stranger’s gift had become four.

In a time of national debate, when we struggle with the complex issues of how we view the world, how we view our neighbors, how we view ourselves, it is incredible to realize that across our nation the one thing that continues to unite us is our willingness to reach across our differences and embrace one another. How encouraging it is, that one simple act of thoughtfulness could in a matter of minutes affect so many people. I like to think that the stranger’s gift is still moving about, touching people, teaching us about ourselves, giving us renewed hope for the future. And perhaps it is, as I pass his story along to you.

-- Lon (lgal@exp.net), October 18, 2004

Answers

bump to new answers (for J, who's too lazy to look on the main page)

-- lon (lgal@exp.net), October 18, 2004.

Lon, that's fabulous!

Have you ever read the book "Pay it Forward"? I understand they made a movie of it, but I don't know how well they did it. The book was terrific, and you'd enjoy it - it's a story of a boy who started a movement (like yours) of passing a kindness onward.

A foundation of people who have used the inspiration of the book to pay forward in real life has a website: http://www.payitforwardmovement.org/

Thanks for sharing your story with us!

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), October 19, 2004.

Hey, how come I get all this abuse? I look at the main page. Sometimes. I mean, I looked last year. Whaddaya want?

Neat anecdote, Lon.

But (you knew it, right), it leads me to some possibly off-the- subject (and maybe controversial) thoughts.

I haven't seen "Pay It Forward" or read the book, but heard about the premise. It's cool when good deeds lead to chain reactions and multiply. However, a former neighbor used to do good deeds in hopes that they would return to him if he ever had trouble. He seemed to view it someting like an insurance premium.

It's neat to see a good thing snowball, but if you count on it, it becomes tainted with self-interest. And we sometimes overlook that these things go on through the unexpected generosity of people who might not have done it if they'd known what was in store. (The guy who gave you the money might not have done it if he'd known he wasn't buying you and Kit a little more comfort. The cafe guy might not have given you the meal tickets if he'd know you were going to give them to someone else, etc.)

In the case of the twenty in question, if Lon had bought booze with it and beat Kit when drunk, would it negate the blessing inherent in the giver's intent? Likewise if Lon's gift had, in turn, been improperly appreciated by the next recipient.

I'm reminded of some scriptures. One has to do with the Lord saying in the afterlife "well done" to some and "depart...for I never knew you" to others. Both groups had apparently done similar good deeds. The true servants were not even aware they'd done them ("When did we see you (naked, hungry, etc.)?"). They simply acted out of changed natures and hearts to which such actions are hardly noticeable. The other points out that "one plants, another waters, but God gives the increase" (all paraphrased). Sometimes we plant. Sometimes water. But we shouldn't take anything for granted beyond what our own heart dictates. It's strange. Good deeds are their own rewards, which sounds cliche-ish, but is what I'm getting at. Even good deeds, when undoubtedly beneficial to those who receive them, are no benefit at all to the giver if his motive is other than simply to do it.

Another couple of scriptures come to mind and relate to the responsibilities of the giver. "Cast not your pearls before swine," and "if you wish a man Godspeed, you partake in his mission" (both of these also possibly paraphrased--my memory ain't what it used to be). The former has kept me in times past from giving bums money on the street (though I have bought a few meals), the latter from contributing to unknown causes or those I do not wish to be responsible for helping. (By the way, those MacDonald's coupon books with 5 one-dollar coupons are good for the glove box. I'm told Mac won't redeem them straight up for money, just make change to the nearest dollar.) We are encouraged to be discerning as well as generous.

I'm also reminded of another quote from a friend of mine: "At j is a killjoy. He overthainks everthin."--Redneck

-- J (jsnider@hal-pc.org), October 21, 2004.

J, you remind me of one of my favorite scriptures (paraphrased) "no good deed goes unpunished". And you know good and well, when I get tanked and beat up on the skunk,I always use my own money. Except in Christmas season, when I usually grab a handfull of change outta those kettles the santa guys have at the mall.

-- stillwaitingformylottorewardLon (lgal@exp.net), October 21, 2004.

Lovely letter, Lon.

-- helen (mule@waits.for.more), October 23, 2004.

Hmm. Been gone awhile an jest catchin up an i meediatly stumble on 2 o helens trashmouth comints inna row. Looks ta me like we autent be shocked at what shes crankin out but dowtful bout whether its her aytall or some preetender. I once had a feller tell thuh awfulest lies bout me an thuh werst part wuz that some o my frens acshooly believed em. They wuz tryin ta make scuses for me. That hurt. They shooda noed bettern that. Dont we no helen bettern that? Then thers thuh possibility she got inta that hooch her hubby hid in thuh mule barn but i dont put no stock in that neither. My bet is somebodys beesmirchin her.

-- Redneck (Redneck@helenblushesyew.no), October 28, 2004.

Well, I for one, haven't been smerchin' her! And it's probably about my turn, too!

Good to see you back RN, where ya been? And when you gonna come get those rusty pocketknives you left over here? The catfish are runnin' with the new rain, and I'm brewin' up a fresh batch of stink bait in the back room down at Loretta's Curl Up 'N Die. It smells so bad in there, anyhow, they ain't even noticed the bait. I just hope Loretta don't give that old bat, Gertrude Gilbeaux another mud facial and mistake it fer the mud. Although, I did always say that Gertie's face could make the fish go belly-up and raise the dead from the deep!

-- Lon Frankenstien (evil@the.bayou), October 28, 2004.

You don't have to worry Redneck. I can't for the life of me imagine an FRLian mistaking that post for the real Helen. I guess some youngster just had too much time on their hands. I hope it hasn't upset Helen though.

-- Carol (c@oz.com), October 29, 2004.

Upset Helen?!!!!!! (snarf)

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There once was a woman named Helen,

Who couldn't talk, 'cept to be yellin'

Her language 'twas said,

Would embarass the dead;

The words she would udder,

Should never come from a mudder;

The phrases, oh, my!

Birds would fall from the sky;

As calm as could be's,

She's blast leaves from the trees,

And you know, it be FACTS that I'm tellin'!

-- Lon Frankenstien (evil@the.bayou), October 29, 2004.

Sorry it took so long to delete that. No, it wasn't helen - the IP addresses are quite different.

-- Just being (helpful@FRL.admin), October 31, 2004.

Egad ... what happened?? Is this why Lon won't speak to me...?

-- helen (egad@egad.egad), November 01, 2004.

Lon--Get tanked and beat up on the skunk? Hey, I'm smarter than that. You don't dare lay a finger on the skunk. He's got more friends than Gump's got money. Helen--I used to be the guy that didn't worry about getting fired (right up until the time they fired me!). One time I came back from a week-long business trip to find everybody back at the office mopping their brows about the bullet they'd dodged over being canned in my absence. I didn't know what they were talking about. The point is that ignorance really can be bliss. Enjoy. Oh, and you probably ought to stay clear of Ol' Lon for awhile. Sounds like he's got smirchin on the brain. Might be a good idea to keep the mule in the barn, too.

-- J (jsnider@hal-pc.org), November 01, 2004.

Gah, That made my eyes water, Lon. :)

-- kritter (k@a.n), November 10, 2004.