Though it happened over thirty years ago, I remember it
clear as yesterday. My wife and I were in Kyoto, at the end of our time and
money after ten months of travel. We patched together a modest lunch and found
a curb on a quiet street to sit and eat. Across the street, a woman was
sweeping in front of her house and when she saw us, started motioning to us
energetically. Was she telling us to get out? While we were puzzling over the
gesture, she went into her house. Again, we could only wonder. Was she calling
the police? Getting her sumo wrestler husband? She emerged again with something
in her hands, crossed the street and set down two little milk bottles filled
with green tea. She gestured for us to drink and then return the bottles when
we were done and re-crossed the street to continue sweeping.
Before this memorable trip around the world, we would have
been stunned. But by now, we had enough stories about such unexpected acts of
kindness to simply shrug our shoulders and think, “Here we go again. A woman
sees us eating lunch without something to drink and jumps to our rescue without
a moment’s hesitation. And we will probably remember this simple act for the
rest of our lives.”
And indeed, we did. I thought of it today eating another
round of inari sushi, soba noodles and mochi on a bench in Ueno Park. I didn’t
have anything to drink, so I looked around to see if this woman would appear.
Ha ha! Of course, one can never plan for such acts or expect them or wish for
them— they appear like a welcome breeze on a hot day, a spot of sun after much
rain, a shooting star across the night sky.
“Random acts of kindness,” like “it takes a whole village to
raise a child” and other such bumper sticker sayings, is a truth trampled to
death in cliché. Our muscular, practical and organized American way would have
us join the Random Acts Club, pay some dues, chat on the Website, buy the
spin-off products and log our daily acts on the giant thermometer of our
Million-Act goal. But even clichéd truths are still true.
So after thinking again of this woman, of her simple but
profound act of pouring some tea in a milk bottle and setting it at our feet, I
set off to a vending machine to get some green tea. Not quite the same, but it
still was refreshing.
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