Channelling the Boy Scout

At Citibank yesterday, I saw an older woman descend from a Retirement Home van. She worked her way around the van, holding onto it, while the driver sat in her seat. Realizing that the older woman needed to negotiation quite the distance to the door of the bank with nothing to hold onto, I offered her my arm and escorted her in.

She smiled at me, and thanked me. I made her promise that she would not tell my wife, because I didn't want my wife getting jealous that I was with so pretty a woman. She said that it was good if my wife heard, because then it would reinforce that I am an attractive man. I told her that what I didn't need was for some friend to drive by, see this beautiful woman on my arm, tell my wife, and then I would be in big trouble. I dropped her off at the bank counter.

Finishing my banking, I walked through the front doors, and spied the van sitting there, driver still looking uninterested. That woman would have to walk all by herself back to the van, I realized. I reentered the building, kept my back to her while she did her banking (lest she think that I was out to take her money). When she finished and I heard her zip up her purse, I turned around, and offered my arm.

She told me that people just didn't do this anymore.

I told her that I did it because it was the nice thing to do, because I hope that when she needs it, someone would help my mother into the bank, and because - while I hope to live plenty long - if I predecease my wife, I hope some nice person helps her around too.

I felt like a boy scout. More, I felt like the blessing of this sabbatical was that I could take the time to see more people in need, and slow down enough to help them.