This
Ain't No Walnut Grove
By
Erin Pickett
Coming from a rather
tough, emotionally-withdrawn family, I grew up not expecting a whole lot in the
way of kindnesses from relatives, and certainly never from strangers. “It’s a
dog-eat-dog world” was a credo that stuck with me even through my hippie-esque
teen years when I thought an exuberant and optimistic loving of the world would
make a difference… I could love the world, but I knew enough through bitter
experience not to expect the world to love me back in return.
And I’m not such a blind
pessimist, I would argue. Rather, a fairly sharp-sighted realist. Why, just
today I had to battle my way through two lanes of bumper-to-bumper beltway
traffic to simply take an exit ramp. Why ever do people speed up from behind
when it’s clear you want to get over? Yesterday it was the wary eye of the
fellow-shopper who made it to the check-out at the same time I did, whom I
quickly deferred to so as not to risk coming to blows. The days before
that…well, it was Christmas shopping season, and I don’t think I have to paint
any pictures for you, gentle readers. I did most of my shopping online,
ho-ho-ho.
And we can’t blame it all
on the season, it’s not just the holiday frenzy, the
good-will-towards-men-gone-awry. The professional set has had the humanity
slowly sucked out of it, and being a layperson there’s as great a need to
protect myself from the professionals as it is to rely on them for care. During
one recent doctor’s visit, I had both technician and doctor separately
half-attend to me as I mentioned a fairly crucial bit of information: “I’m
pregnant with twins.” I could have said “I have a green elephant in my shorts”
and it would have met with the same “um-hum” monotone before I repeated myself
forcefully enough to break through the professional barrier of
non-attentiveness. “O, what? Twins?” um-hum.
I watch Little House
on the Prairie reruns, and frankly, this ain’t no Walnut Grove. However we
might collectively strive to be like Dr. Baker, Ma and Pa and Mary, and emulate
the characteristics of patience, goodwill, kindness, modesty, helpfulness, etc.;
I find more and more we’re all turning into Harriet Olsens: short tempered,
short sighted, selfish, preoccupied, and yes, a little bitter and sour in turns.
But, against this
backdrop of blackness, how much brighter do the rarer good deeds and kindnesses
shine? Like a perfect diamond on velvet, one total stranger met through a
community bulletin board has offered to lend me a pair of wrist splints to deal
with the pregnancy related carpal tunnel syndrome I complained about one night.
In fact, she offered to drop them at my door. Like a single ray of sunlight
piercing through the blanket of an afternoon’s cloud-covered sky, my
sister-in-law calls to check up on my health, and even though she’s 15 weeks
worth of pregnancy discomfort ahead of me offers to be available for any chores
I might need doing. Like a candle in the darkness, the holding open of a door
for me, or the holding up of an elevator as I waddle up, or the offer to let me
ahead in line when I have only one item as opposed to ten: these kindnesses,
once taken for granted as polite society’s due, shine all the brighter for being
so rare, so isolated, in these days.
We could speculate on
what the world would be like if we were all a little more aware of others, or
were less pre-occupied, or more understanding, or less impatient, but
speculation is the job of those minds greater than mine. As for me, I will not
despair of the world, for there’s no point in that either. Instead I will
continue to treasure the blessings as they come, and be thankful for the hope
and joy that they provide.
Monthly December © 2005 Erin Pickett and
Kentlands Dot Us®