Good people are still out there
by GLENETTA SHUEY
Some days you see and read about people being cruel to their fellow man. Reasons vary from greed to sheer meanness. I have witnessed enough of that myself to know that sometimes there is no reasonable explanation. On the other hand, I also have been privileged to see people do wonderful deeds simply because.
There are still good people out there. When my grandson was just a little over two years old, we were on the way to his weekly therapy session in Lake Charles. An 18-wheeler’s rig belt broke and snapped into my vehicle’s window, inches from Chase’s face and the glass fractured, spilling all over him. He yelped, but never cried. I pulled over just yards away from the 210 Loop with traffic racing by us. I was able to get Chase out of the car – unbelievably – without a scratch. I held him on the side of the road on a windy and chilly day for 20 minutes before someone finally stopped to help us. This man was on his way to a job, but took the time out to help us. He cleared the seat of all glass, including Chase’s car seat, and then taped cardboard to the window opening so that we could drive to therapy. He refused to take any money. I asked for his business card so I could send him a gift card later. A good samaritan in the flesh.
Recently, this same grandson and I were sent on a mission by his mom to find a bat and helmet for summer little league baseball. First, let me make it crystal clear that I have no sons; therefore, my knowledge about sports paraphernalia is rudimentary at best. That didn’t stop this granny though. We took ourselves to Academy and began the hunt for the requested items.
Chase is now eight and a lefty. We are barely in the store, and he finds a helmet and tries it on. I ask, with no clue as to what the answer should be: “Does it fit ok?” Duh. Chase looks at me as if I had grown horns or something. “What?” was his rebuttal. “I guess so, Granny,” he says with a hint of annoyance. I figure: one down and one to go. Somehow, I knew the bat was going to be a more difficult quest. There literally were dozens upon dozens. Every size, every price (ridiculous prices), and every weight. Weight – who knew? After walking around with Chase exclaiming, “Granny, I like blue. We’ll get a blue one,” I had enough. I spy this athletic young man with a pretty wife and a new baby in tow. I have been told by my family that I don’t know a stranger, so I plunge in. “Sir, I need help.” (I realized later how that could have been interpreted, but I digress.) I go on to explain my predicament to this kind gentleman.
First, he checks out the helmet we selected and, lo and behold, it was an acceptable choice. Then he dives into the bat maze. He also measures Chase’s arm length and explores other requirements for Chase’s particular needs. I apologized to his wife for taking up their time, and she, too, is kind and gracious. He finds three suitable bats and allows Chase to choose one. He chooses the blue. I couldn’t thank this young man enough for taking so much time out of his afternoon with his wife and baby to help a stranger. He was humbled by my overly passionate gratitude. Chase beamed and thanked him also. A simple thing to this young man, but an act of kindness to me.
Most importantly, he helped my grandson, who means the world to me. He didn’t have to go that “extra mile”; he could have just pointed out some bats and told me to check that section. But he didn’t. He did much more than that. He gave this lady a reason to believe in people again, a reason to say that there are still some good people out there.
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