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Pay It Forward

A long overdue thanks, to all of the people who helped me when I was alone.

By Whitney CarmanPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 9 min read
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I fell through the cracks. I was neglected by my family, the ones that were nearby, were a state away. They’ve always been better than me, according to them, but I’m okay with that. What I don’t understand is why all I can think of, is appreciation, and if I was born without a negative button? I ask myself; why was I so lucky to have so many memories of random acts of kindness?

The sad truth is, I was in many situations where I needed it. I had been left to the wolves of the world when I was 16. I lived in a microscopic town in Vermont, my mother was in Virginia, and my dad was in California, wasting his time with his future ex-girlfriend. The rest of my family was in upstate New York, but they are about as welcoming as the scorpion asking a frog for a ride across the river. My family had good intentions, somewhere in storage. Perhaps someday they'll dig them out and put them into action. Kindness and dumb luck are the reasons I survived; when people were kind to me, I didn't feel invisible. Their kindness gave me hope that some humans were actually good.

The first person I wish to thank is my high school principal. Thank you for trusting me, knowing I was doing my best, living alone, and for giving me the opportunity to show you. I remember that week in school like it was yesterday, but it's been 17 years since then. You were gone that week, and the rest of the faculty in charge were convinced I was bad. I was studying in the library when the Vice Principal, his assistance, the Attendance Officer and police officer removed me from my study booth and suspended me for the week. I honestly thought it was only the day, otherwise I would not have gone back to class the following morning, just to be kicked off campus for trespassing. I had to stand up for myself that day, I actually threw my winter gloves off, books down, and yelled at Mrs. G in the face for treating me unfairly. I used a few choice words for color and turned up the volume so she could hear me, the buildings on site had a resounding echo. You have heard everyone's story about that day, except mine. The fact that you never called me in to hear my side, spoke volumes of your trust in me. I was unaware what you had done for me, until after I graduated. You gave me immunity from all faculty, except you, and if I did do something that needed reprimand, only you were allowed to decide what that would be. I still haven't met anyone else who has ever been suspended for an entire week. This is one of my favorite stories to tell, because you gave me hope that some humans are actually good.

The second letter goes out to the families that put effort into making me feel like I belonged at their holidays. I know you all ran around, buying extra gifts, so I would have something under the tree. I know last minute you made a stocking, wrapping every little thing individually. I was actually very surprised to wake up to a cake and card on my sixteenth birthday, since my parents were not around. Thank you all for noticing I was alone, and for making sure that I wasn't. I was unofficially orphaned; but I didn't see it that way until recently. I prefer orphan to abandoned, because orphan makes me feel innocent, whereas abandoned makes me feel unworthy. Thank you for giving me hope, that some humans are actually good.

I want to thank a few people that I've grown up knowing, you might as well be family. I'll start with my annoying neighbor, Steve. You never stayed more than ten minutes, but you made me feel like I existed. Thank you, Bob. I have always been proud to call you my godfather, you are like a father to me, a more responsible, reliable, witty one. Thank you, Kim, also known as "Officer Friendly" for being a neighbor, and more. I owe the survival of my relationship with my father to you all. The fact that he left, and would come and go, staying gone for months at a time, then return home, as if it was normal, just to leave again, could have been very tragic for me. Whenever I talked to you all about him, you all would say "that's just Dennis". I'd hear stories of him disappearing and re-appearing as long as you'd known him. I felt a sadness, but you helped me understand, that even smart people do dumb things, repeatedly. Thank you for encouraging me to see him for who he is, and to love him anyways. Because of you, my dad and I have a great relationship today.

This thanks goes to the people who helped me and my piece of shit car. Thank you, Harold, for letting me use your autobody shop to change the bearings on my Mazda. and for waiting until I asked you for help with a bolt. We talked a lot about my dad, how odd he was, and the fact that you knew that, but liked him anyways, meant the world to me. Thank you, Mr. Church, the auto mechanic up the road. You helped me get my car back on the road when the repairs were more than I could manage. Specifically, thank you for insisting to come pick me up in the blizzard. You knew I had no ride, and ten miles in the snow would have been very difficult. I hadn't even gotten a mile, by the time you showed up.

Thank you, Leroy, the high school janitor. I have no idea how many times you had to jump the battery for me, the strange coincidence with you, was about 4 years after I graduated, I ended up moving to the islands right next to your brother. By the time I met your brother, you had passed away, so it was nice to share with him some of the fond memories of you helping me. Because of you, I always carried jumper cables in my car. Whenever I went to Sunset Drive-In Theater, I'd help as many people as I could get their car started, it surprises me how many boys didn't even know where their battery was.

Thank you, Less More. I know that isn't exactly your name, but I really thought it was for a while, and it suits my story. My alternator died a mile from home that day, you recognized me, because we were the only two people who ran the five-mile block. You ran past me that day, when my car died, you offered help, which I refused, but you said you'd check and see if I was still there when you were done, and I was. Thank you, for coming back, and insisting. That's the thing with orphans and help, they often refuse it. I learned not to rely on help, I just take care of everything myself, but it felt good, you broke into my hardened heart that day. Thank you for showing me that some people do what they say, maybe a broke heart isn't always a bad thing.

There are at least five more car stories, but I want to move on to a few of my more recent favorites. I want to say thank you to the guy at Subway. I don't know your name, but you obviously had been watching me dig through my car for quite a long time. I spent a long time scrounging for change under the car seats, in the trunk, under the mats, in the glove box, and wherever else might be hiding a nickel or dime. Thank you for watching me in comical desperation and buying me a sandwich.

My last story is recent, and it happened about 4 years after I moved to Los Angeles, California. This is one of the last places I expected something like this to happen, but the fact that it did, gave me hope. I have to set the stage a bit for this. I had just given birth to my second child; he was 3 days old. Their father was often busy, leaving me to do a lot of things on my own, which I was used to. There aren't very many places that offer healthy food and have a drive through, and I was not about to take a newborn and 19-month-old into a restaurant on my own. This was my first time leaving the house, my body was still healing too. I can't recall the reason I had to go out, whatever it was, it couldn't be avoided. Eating some satisfying and healthy dinner prepared by someone else, was exactly what I needed. I ordered a salad at the drive through of El Pollo Loco, as I began to pull past the ordering box, I realized I forgot my purse. I reversed and said I was sorry and had to cancel the order, at the same time, a man was walking up the drive through. He stopped and asked me what I ordered, and he gave me $20. I met him at the end after picking up my food, giving him his change. Our interaction was brief, but long enough to discover his wife had just had a baby a few days ago as well. Sir, I do not know your name, this happened 6 years ago now, but thank you for giving me hope that good humans exist, even in the city.

I know the last story doesn't seem grandiose enough to end on, but I had lived in LA for 4 years already. The city had been collecting its toll, its only acceptable currency was happiness. That man's gesture inspired me, I haven't forgotten, and that's why it's priceless. That is why random acts of kindness are the real fuel of humanity, they fuel hope. It felt like he saw me, understood me, and he didn't have to, which is why it meant so much.

Have you ever felt invisible? Have you ever felt like no one cared? This place is my default, luckily, I have found humans that I feel safe to be cared by. Let me repeat that: I feel safe to be cared for by humans that I know and love here, in the city. I trust that they will show up, I still do most everything on my own, the difference though; I don't feel like I have to.

The truth is you do not have to wait for moments like this to happen to you, you can be that person. What an honor! To be remembered that way, even if they don't know your name. You can be the person that helps an old woman read the fine print at the post office, when the tellers won't. You can be the person that holds a door open for someone, because their hands are full. You can buy a coffee or a sandwich for someone in line behind you, for no reason! If they ask you after, just tell them to pay it forward to someone else. Here's another, just for an idea: you can secretly pay the tab for someone who looks like they're exhausted and struggling to enjoy food because their children are cranky during breakfast. Those were all true stories by the way. The point is this: the best way to find good humans, is to be one. Kindness is both contagious, and irritating, just keep your intentions pure. Thank you, for reading.

humanity
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About the Creator

Whitney Carman

"...even if what I have written does not make sense to anyone--at least--it has helped me a little...And anything that can be whittled down to fit words--is not all madness."

-Lara Jefferson These are My Sisters

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