By Neal Lemery

(Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 4/3/2025)

This week, life gave me some perspectives of my role in community building and healing. It was time for me to be in school, and to get reacquainted with taking a positive, proactive role, to quit my bellyaching and whining, and take some positive action.

A friend invited me to coffee, seeking some guidance and direction on their new role parenting a young relative. They thought I had some wisdom on the subject, but I suspect they were more in search of affirmation and encouragement, with me as a cheerleader and proverbial optimist. I can certainly play the role of cheerleader, and have the scars to prove I’ve played the role of a parent of teenagers.

Yet, I celebrate my role as parent, having just had a rich conversation with one of my sons this week. That unexpected phone call was filled with rich stories, laughter, and his comment that he had called “just to hear your voice”. Our talk about relationships, marriage, and our mutual desire to keep learning affirmed my thoughts that I’d done a decent job with him.

At coffee with my friend, I listened, commiserated, encouraged, and offered a few suggestions. My friend thought I was a genius, as they acted on my ideas and found success and affirmation. My theory is that they instinctively knew the answers and the ideas had ripened and were well received. They had done the hard work, and just needed to see they were headed in the right direction. It’s not too hard to give a gentle nudge when people are already doing the right thing.

It was a reflective week, as well. A friend had given a talk about their passion in cleaning cemetery headstones, and helping families find their heritage, while sharing some nearly forgotten local history. In that work, they celebrate the lives of those who have gone before us, and giving us all a sense of foundation and heritage.

I took that message to motivate me to visit my own family graves, and do some much needed maintenance and rehabilitation. As I stood there in the cemetery, gently brushing off old leaves and debris and applying a cleanser to wash off decades of gunk, I took a good look at the names, and the dates of birth and death. I ruminated over all the good times and hard times represented by the dashes between those dates, and the impact those ancestors had on me.

It was a time of contemplation, gratitude, and respect. I hadn’t taken the time lately to acknowledge their contributions to my life and the importance of the ancestors’ various roles in their raising of me. Like most of us, I get caught up in the daily busyness and worries, and ignore who I’ve become and why. A lot of that comes from those family members whose headstones I was cleaning. A few tears came, and also a flood of good memories and gratitude.

These days are abundant in harsh words and comments, with people taking the opportunity to be snide, hostile, and even indifferent to another person’s crisis. The daily news cycle overflows with crisis and uncertainty. I’m trying to limit my exposure to social media and its recent abundance of nastiness, and political discussions having a dominant theme of adversity and opposition. I want all that clamor to instead be a vehicle for addressing challenging community needs.

I left the cemetery, and that coffee shop after seeing my friend, with a new sense of gratitude and peace, knowing that in life, we do a lot of good things, and help a lot of people on their own walks in life. The daily news cycle may seem important to people now, but knowing that I’ve been both the giver and the recipient of good thoughts, support, and kindness is worthy of my celebration and thanks. That’s where I need to put my focus and my love.

4/2/2025

The Kindness of Strangers

By Neal Lemery

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 12/29/2024)

“Every time you do a good deed, you shine the light a little farther into the dark,” — Charles DeLint.

My world recently brightened up, all due to the kindness of a stranger, a hard-working and talented government worker. I needed a particular certification from a state agency, and the process compelled me to sign up for a three-hour class and an exam, as well as filling out the application on line.

I plunged into the process, my day otherwise quiet, a time between holidays, the weather wet and windy. I needed to set up an account, a user name, and a password, and then begin my online classes. Yet, the program didn’t let me access the classes or even get into my new account. The process involved a variety of security questions and complex passwords, a not unfamiliar pattern in this age of technology and “convenient, efficient” computerization of what used to be dealing with paper applications. As we all know, “convenient” is a relative term.

Finally, after an hour of frustration, I e-mailed the agency and soon received a helpful response. Still, I kept hitting a brick wall and wrote another e-mail, seeking some more direction and guidance. In a few minutes, my phone rang and a courteous worker, who soon became my guiding angel, took me by the virtual hand and walked me through the process.

It seems that the software platform also drove the agency’s workers nuts, and my plight was a common malady of the “new and improved” version of the software. We changed browsers, which sped up the process, and hand-copied my password. It seems the new and improved software, if left to its own devices, would delete my password and insert one of my answers to a security question, guaranteeing failure and no access. My angel helped me work around that disaster, and I soon was able to access the three hours of online classes.

When it came to finalize the completion of the classes and move on to the formal application for the desired certification and the qualifying exam, the last module of the class speedily identified the new web page link I was to go to, (information I couldn’t copy) but didn’t provide a button for the link, leaving me stranded in cyberspace. Nowhere in the module was an easy route to move ahead.

Yet another e-mail to my guiding angel quickly produced another work around, going back to the agency’s website and saying a forever goodbye to the private vendor’s online classes and module. With new directions and guidance, I was able to quickly access the application process and exam, and take and pass the exam with a 100% grade. This brought a cheer of jubilation and a happy dance around the dining room table and my laptop. My printer soon cranked out the desired certification. Success! My seven hours of labor finally came to an end.

It seems that this snafu is the norm, and the agency’s staff complaints are being echoed by applicants from the public. My e-mail of gratitude was forwarded to my angel’s supervisor, and my angel applauded my plan to write to the agency’s director. Enough is enough.

In this busy season, we all tend to be in a hurry and to experience glitches and irritating problems. Yet, I’ve seen many guiding angels at work, taking on and solving problems, calming crises, and bringing smiles again to irritated and frustrated customers and workers alike. Rules are often bent, protocols shortened, and people are helped on their way with a smile and a handshake.

Yes, there are joymakers and wish granters out and about this holiday season. But there are also the problem-solvers, the solution finders who are able to turn disaster and sometimes downright outrage, into a smooth and efficient process, taking on technology and lighting the candles of salvation and answers. It is to them that I give thanks during the holidays, the people with patience and the ability to get me to take a breath, to find the answers, and work my way through the perils of a “more efficient, convenient” process of getting the work done.

I’m working on my letter of complaint to the head of the agency, planning to lament about nearly impossible and unresponsive software. But, I’m also going to praise my guiding angel, who took the time and had the patience to transform my grousing and kvetching, my irritation and developing rage, into a satisfied customer and a successful applicant. That angel gets the gold stars this holiday season. They are my Santa Claus and Good Fairy Mother.

12/28/2024

Holding Space

published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 12/19/23

By Neal Lemery

A number of years ago, a counselor friend introduced me to the idea of “holding space”, being simply present for someone in crisis, someone needing a human presence in their life.

And not necessarily a friend who could offer advice or counsel, or direct them to some professional help. But, simply being there.

I’m a verbal person, willing to talk about most anything, and sometimes too free to offer advice, even when it is not sought. Holding space is an idea that is more about just showing up, being around, willing to offer the proverbial ear to someone having a really bad day. Zipping my lip is not my first response, but often holding space is what is needed and what is sought.

Yesterday, the phone rang. An old friend, a guy I’d mentored and worked with when he was in prison, was on the line. He was in tears, needing to talk. One of his parents had just called him to break their lunch date for the holidays. He’s been suicidal and had acted on it, and was now in rehab.

My buddy was devastated. He was worried about his parent, but glad they were alive, and relieved they were in rehab and getting the help they had needed for a long time. His tears flowed and he choked up several times, getting his family woes off his chest.

I listened, and listened some more. I set aside my judgmental thoughts about the parent’s drug use and depression, and the impact that had on my friend. My friend wasn’t calling for advice; he was calling so I could listen to him, so he could put into words what he was going through. He needed to vent, and to cry on my shoulder. I zipped my lip, yet occasionally offered words of condolence, sympathy, and concern for my friend’s wellbeing.

I reminded him that he was a good man, a good son, and one of my friends. And, I listened some more. The torrent of tears slowed, and he became reflective of the ravages of addiction and estrangement that had plagued his family, and strained his relationship with his parent.

That’s all that he needed, and all that he wanted from me in this phone call. I listened, and withheld my judgement about the parent and their relationship with my friend. I told my friend I loved him, and that he loved his family, and that love for a person who hurts you can be painful and difficult to navigate, but loving others is what we are here to do in our lives.

An hour later, I heard a quote from Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor. “The purpose of our lives is to help others along the way.” She’d written that in a letter she had written, to be read at her funeral, her final words of wisdom to be shared with the nation.

At the end of the phone call, we told each other we loved each other, that it was good to talk, and good to share troubling news, and that sometimes, family life and the ravages of drugs and depression are tough to navigate.

My friend and I are here for each other, just a phone call away, when the tears overflow and life gets a little too challenging. Yesterday, I held space for my friend, and helped him on on his way. I know he’s there for me, too, when life gets too much to handle by myself, and I need someone to hold space for me.

12/20/23

My New Approach to Social Media

(Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 9/6/2023)

by Neal Lemery

I’m tired of the bitterness and confrontational atmosphere of many social media posts, as well as how daily life is popularly reported in traditional media. It has become an environment of combat and derision, of snarkiness and often outright rude behavior, rather than informational, a building, a celebration of the best of us.

Being reactive, angry, frustrated, and generally being in a divisive, combative mindset hasn’t been very productive. A look at the headlines in the newspaper or taking in the evening news on TV seems to be proof of that approach. Many social media posts and many in the political sphere seem to take pride in their nastiness. Our society seems mired in bitterness, hatred, and animosity. We seem to be adrift, lacking a moral compass. To what end?

What is my role in all of this? I often feel pulled into the rancor, the fighting and the biting, sarcastic remarks and commentary. I need to think about how do I respond to social media, which seems to be taking an ever-larger role in how we interact with the world. How do I look at the world, its problems, how I deal with what lands on my plate? How do I navigate this world? What tools will give me the best viewpoint, the best, most effective analysis, so that I can find answers and move ahead?

Am I part of the problem, or am I part of the solution?

Finding consensus and building compassion hasn’t seemed to be the goal of the game of getting through life in 2023. The aim seems to be having the biggest body count in politics, applying the scorched earth mentality where the winner should be taking all, and to heck with the other side. And, aren’t there only two sides: us and them, the winners and the losers? We, the smart ones, and them, the ignorant ones who have been led astray, and likely without any redeeming value. “They” are easy to toss in the trash.

And, of course, the other side is evil, dangerous, not to be trusted, not to be loved or respected. Thoughtful analysis and learned discourse is for the weak. We must be strong, and, of course, always right. We wouldn’t want to wage war and then revise our thinking, based on someone else’s thoughts or different information. We tend to reach for the convenient labels, the quick and dirty terms for the “others”. The labels seem to stick, without regard for the complexity and depth of a genuinely held outlook on an issue. It all becomes so convenient, quick and dirty.

But, it’s not working. Degrading people and their point of view has never been a long term, workable answer to society’s problems and the search for useful answers.

I want to try out a different approach. I want to look at an issue, a discussion as an opportunity to look at how my response can be constructive, a building up, become an act of support and creating healthy solutions. Can I respond so that I am positive, a force for good change, to be a builder rather than a wrecking ball? Can I show that I am willing to learn, even change my opinion?

If I l look at a situation with this mindset, then I want to be a builder, a reformer, a force for doing something good. And, if I don’t feel I have the right tools, then isn’t my job to go out and find the tools that work, that build? Aren’t I tasked with resourcing the good ideas that are solution-oriented, constructive? Isn’t that part of the job description of a citizen?

If I let myself be pulled into the nastiness of some social media posts, I soon become the grumpy critic, the one who tears down and bashes, the naysayer. It is harder to be the builder, the positive analyzer who is looking for what works, what makes life better, the helper. That theme of the helper, the builder seems to be the bedrock of the major religious faiths and theologies in the world. Yet that viewpoint is now often swept into the background of a cultural desire to wage social war against the “non-believers” and “others”,and be a casualty of our cultural wars.

My new approach is to look at a social problem or an issue in our culture from the viewpoint of morality. I need to adopt a new outlook, and be positive. Is my approach based upon applying and advancing sound, thoughtful moral viewpoints and values? I like to think I am in favor of, and an advocate for respecting others, thoughtfully considering their viewpoints, and offering thoughtful conversation on the issues, looking toward dialogue, discussion, and mutual positive regard. That requires an open, inquisitive mind, a mind open to new ideas.

Does my thinking and action benefit me? Does it benefit the community? Does it advance the common good? Am I being respectful? Am I open to a challenge to my ideas and thinking, to the point of thoughtful consideration of other viewpoints, and, perhaps, even changing my mind and accepting a different viewpoint as well-reasoned and workable?

A friend recently offered me this challenge and analysis to what a person might say in a discussion or a post on social media. The famed author Ursula LeGuin had this posted on the wall above her desk:

Is it true?

Is it necessary or at least useful?

Is it compassionate, or at least unharmful?

I’m going to try to give this approach a genuine try. I’ll have to change some habits, and develop new mindsets as I go about my life, and compose my social media posts accordingly. I’ll have to look hard at how I talk with people, how I navigate through my life with my family, friends, and community. I’m an old dog and it will be hard to learn new tricks, and try a new, fresh approach. After all, shooting from the hip and being a little nasty and cranky with people is still the mainstay of our 2023 culture. Stepping out of the culture wars and trying something different will take some effort, but I’m ready for a change.

How can each of us do a better job, of being a positive force for change? Are we ready for that?

9/6/2023

Special Moments With Jim

published in the Tillamook County Pioneer

by Neal Lemery

Last week, I learned that a good college friend had passed away. He wasn’t a particularly close friend in the usual ways with college friends. We did not often keep in touch, like many friends from our past. We’d run into each other at gatherings every several years. Now I realize he was a mentor and a counselor to me, roles that were much different than the usual college classmate ways.

He had a deep impact on me in college. Jim was a sensitive guy, and instinctively knew when someone was emotionally vulnerable and hurting.

I was one of the guys Jim felt that with, and he reached out to me several times, the darkest of times. I kept my emotional life close to me, letting very few people know that I was hurting, that I needed some kindness and some compassion. Young men in our culture don’t want to appear vulnerable. American men are skilled at building walls and keeping our self-doubts and fears well hidden. Such wall building is what is expected of real American men, and of course I was expected to fit in. It’s the manly thing to do.

Jim was different. He had that ability to sense my pain, and would pull me aside, find a quiet corner and look deep into my soul.

He had that way about him, that instant trust and insight to pull out of me the dark thoughts, the self-doubts, the emotional pain that I thought I had been so clever in hiding from everyone, including myself. He could open me up and he would listen, deeply and without judgment.

Jim would normalize my feelings and give words to what I was wrestling with, repeating my fears and doubts so that I could hear what I was thinking and fearing, that I was not really crazy or on the edge of going nuts, that I was a human being who needed some compassion and friendship. I admired all of that in him, and I wanted to be much more like him, his vulnerability and his confidence in being a trustworthy and helpful man.

He had that gift, and I often saw him use his skills and his humanity to help others, to guide people into self-understanding and to find their passions and place in adult life. Not one to seek adulation, he did this work quietly, always protecting privacy and avoiding gossip. He was a trust builder and a healer, and practiced his skills on the fringes of college life, places where the walking wounded would go to seek out anonymity.

Jim went on to do other great things in his life. An overseas study trip took him to the Middle East where he became involved in charity and economic development work. He returned to campus, to change his major to international business. He went back to the Middle East, where he devoted his life to economic development and helping the needy, making a profound difference in the lives of others, being the Good American in a region where that was a rarity. He did well, because he was kind and charitable, because people could trust him, and because he lived what he believed about people.

We didn’t need to be in regular communication with each other, or meet at all the reunions. I knew Jim would be there for me if I needed him, and that he was still having his “Jim Moments” with people on the other side of the world.

I found myself following his example in my own work, reaching out and engaging people in their dark moments, having those quiet conversations and going deep into their emotional lives, offering respect and cultivating compassion and mutual positive regard. And in that work, I found the blessings that such work gives a person, the rewards of making a difference, by being a kindly, truthworthy friend and an advocate for decency and understanding.

In such moments, I’d chuckle to myself, realizing I was following Jim’s footsteps, that I was in the middle of a “Jim Moment”, that his teachings to me had been a profound and vital lesson, one of the most important lessons I’d learned in college. I’d ask myself, “What would Jim do?” in this situation. That would open the door for some productive conversations and effective steps forward.

I’m mourning Jim’s death today, and wondering how best to remember him, to continue on with his legacy. I’m realizing it is in those “Jim Moments” that he came back to me, when I would again feel his big hugs of friendship and compassion. This world needs more of those “Jim Moments”, when we open our hearts to someone, to truly listen and suspend our judgments, when we are accepting and open to others’ pain, when we can practice empathy, and help develop a plan on moving forward.

Jim will live on in such kind acts, and in the bonds that are made with others in times of uncertainty, confusion and self-doubt. I’m comforted by knowing that, and, more importantly, by getting out into the world, being more aware, and carrying on with Jim’s mission, and his “Jim Moments”.

1/20/2023

Unexpected Gifts: Giving From the Heart

by Neal Lemery

Putting aside the hubbub, the seemingly endless demands on us to be “in the holiday mode”, I find my purpose and comfort in the quiet of the winter, as I contemplate what are the best gifts to exchange.

The birds quietly chatter their thanks as I fill their feeder. The rest of the yard sleeps, as a few leaves, still dressed in their fall colors, cling to the branches. These moments are gifts to my spirit, and are given freely, without expectation.

The chance encounters in life can offer the best experiences, the most rewarding gift giving of the season.

While on a welcome road trip last week, I stopped for lunch. While pouring my coffee, the waitress mentioned her struggle with her trembling hand. I took the time to listen. I recently came across an article that talked about that condition and a new non-invasive and pain free treatment. In a few minutes, our phones connected and she had the link to the article and the contact for the competent, state of the art clinic that could ease her condition.

“I didn’t know about this. And I so badly want to be able to paint and draw again,” she said.

She gave me a big smile as I left, her relief at finding a solution showing in her eyes, her gift to me.

I’ve lost touch with a fellow guitar player. While playing one of his favorite songs the other day, I decided he needed a gift. I’ve come across some unusual picks that suit my continuing journey to be a better guitar player. I have a few extra picks, so I mailed them to him, with a note thanking him for his friendship over the years.

I’m sure the postal clerk wondered why I had a big smile as I mailed that package.

Often, the best gifts to give are the gifts of listening and appreciation. There are so many opportunities to simply be present with someone, to listen with an open heart, and to suspend judgment and commentary. Most of us aren’t asking for advice; we simply want to be heard.

“To be by their side,” a counselor friend told me the other day. “It truly is the gift we can all give. All it takes is our time and being present with someone in need of a good ear.”

We all have our story, but all too often, our story doesn’t get heard. That’s all too often the gift we need to receive, as well as to give.

When we prepare for the holidays and wrap our presents, perhaps we should write a kind note to a friend, inviting them for a cup of coffee or a walk in a beautiful place. Let us suspend our culture’s pressure to give material things. Instead, we can give the gift of ourselves and our open, loving hearts.

published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 12/16/2021

The Shirt Off My Back

published in the Tillamook County Pioneer 11/1/2021

by Neal Lemery

A familiar phrase we often use is that someone would give the shirt off their back to help someone else. Last week, that became reality for me and a young man, as we drove away from the prison where he’d been the last two and a half years. Our destination was a halfway house, where he could restart his life, find a job, and be a productive citizen. He has big plans: vocational school, a job, long hikes in the woods, a family someday.

Some will argue that the hardships and obstacles facing a parolee is part of his “punishment”, that one shouldn’t do the crime if you can’t do the time. Felons don’t deserve our kindnesses, and should be treated as the scum that they are. They deserve their hardships, and it is their lot in life.

I suppose those attitudes are easy to come by, and that the life of those getting out of prison is low on many people’s priorities and compassion. Perhaps, until you get to know a person, and hear their story, until you match the face with the stories they tell of their lives.

“Lock ‘em up and throw away the key” and the problem will go away. Right?

Well, those men and women will return to society, join the workforce, and will have family and friends, just like everyone else. How they go about their lives, and the decisions they make, is fundamentally shaped by the resources they have when they walk out of the prison gates.

My young friend left prison the other morning with only a pair of pants, a sweatshirt, and shoes provided by the prison. No underwear, no socks, no coat, and no cash in his pocket. His life savings, including the federal stimulus money (which we all received last year) was in a check. Of course, he has no bank account, no ID except a prison issued ID card. His lost driver’s license hadn’t been replaced.

He has an Oregon Trail food stamp card, but of course, he needed a phone to activate that. Yep, you guessed it. He had no phone. His family could have shipped him a phone that he could have picked up at his release that morning, but the prison never told them about that option.

The check for his money was $300 short. The prison had decided to fine him for a rule infraction last week, and took away his inmate phone privileges on top of that.

We headed off to a city four hours away, to see his probation officer, and to check in at the halfway house. But, he wasn’t sure where his new home was, or what it looked like.

He got out at dawn, when the sweatshirt kept him warm. Later on, it warmed up and he started to sweat. He put on a determined face, not wanting to complain to me. No one else had offered to pick him up and make the trip with him, so I was the only way to get him where he needed to go.

“Do you have anything else to wear?” I asked, knowing the answer as all his worldly possessions were loosely piled in a cardboard box in the back seat of my truck.

I’d needed to do an overnight trip to pick up my friend, due to the early morning release time, so I had a few clothes in my suitcase. I dug out a shirt I’d bought for myself a few weeks ago, and gave it to him.

“Oh, no, I can’t take that,” he said.

But I insisted and he managed a smile as he slipped it on. It was soft, colorful and new, something he hadn’t experienced in the last few years. He looked away at the changing landscape, filled with fields, trees, far away mountains, and blue sky, things he hadn’t seen in his life for too long of a time. A tear rolled down his cheek, and I looked away, concentrating on my driving, and giving him some quiet time. A tear fell onto my face, too, being reminded of simple things, and how so much in life I take for granted.

What I call Freedom Day is sacred space, where emotions often too intense to comprehend fill one’s heart. Often, there are no words, only tears and hugs.

We stopped along the way a few times — fabulous coffee in a small town’s only coffee shop, breathing fresh air at a roadside rest area overlooking a display of bright fall leaves and a river. As we took in the serenity of the river, we found no words to speak. He turned to me and embraced me, his hug saying it all.

I parked outside of the probation office, waiting for my friend to complete his check in, and finding out where he was going to live. I watched a drug deal go down across the street, and the parade of customers going to the nearby pot shop, some of whom had just left the probation office.

He settled into his new home, and the staff introduced themselves to me. Good, deeply committed people, being kind and hospitable, as we settled my friend in, making his bed, finding out where the bathroom and the kitchen were.

“This will be fine,” he said. “I’ll be OK.”

He walked me to my truck. It was time to say goodbye. It had been a good day, good conversations, a trip of amazing natural beauty, and peace, a deepening friendship. And freedom.

I slipped into Dad Mode, giving him one last hug, and a short sermon of Dad Advice, giving him one last dose of love, encouragement, and fatherly advice.

“I don’t have any money,” he reminded me, hesitation catching in his voice. We’d had a talk earlier about his lack of funds, and I’d promised to spot him some cash, something to carry him through until he could get to the bank. I apologized for forgetting my commitment, and dug out my wallet.

“That’s too much,” he said, but I wouldn’t take any back.

“Take yourself out for coffee,” I said, and added another twenty.

“Here’s your shirt,” he said. He started to unbutton it.

“That’s your shirt now,” I said. “It’s part of our deal, part of what we needed to do today.”

I got in my truck and drove down the street, lowering the window to give him one last wave. In the rearview mirror, I saw him wave back, and wipe away something on his face. A few tears wetted my face, and I gulped down what would have been a full-blown sob session.

The road home was quiet. I was lost in my thoughts. This wasn’t the first time I’d taken a young man from what we call “correctional institutions” to a fresh start. Freedom Day, I call it. And, sadly, the stories run together. The lack of clothes, the cardboard box of possessions, the lack of financial care, the uncertainty of where they will spend the night and the next few months of their lives. There’s the scarcity of family, too, and that points back to understanding why they were locked up to begin with.

I’ve read where the cost of housing one prisoner in our state prison system is close to $60,000 a year, and that mental health services, vocational training, and transitional housing are often the first to be cut. My friend needs all of that. The system isn’t dealing with his depression, PTSD, and anxiety, not to mention his alcohol and drug issues, those necessities somehow not part of his life in prison, not part of his parole plan.

I gave him my shirt, and a few bucks for coffee. And he gave me hugs, stories of his dreams, and, at the end of the day, a big smile. He filled my heart. It was a good trade.

10/31/2021

Spreading Some Good Cheer

By Neal Lemery

“Be a reflection of what you like to receive. If you want love, give love. If you want truth, be truthful. If you want respect, give respect. You reap what you sow.”

–anonymous

I’m often frustrated by the news of the day, or the way life has become a real challenge to some of my friends and neighbors. Some days, I just pay lip service to my frustrations, and realize I’m whining, but then I realize I could take action.

Each one of us could do better, and I believe we all have the ability to bring about change. Do we simply lack the will to make the change, to do the right thing, and make our corner of the world a little better? Or is all the inaction because I haven’t found the magic wand to cure all the woes of the world?

“Put up or shut up,” as my grandmother would say when I’d just complain and whine.

Change is often hard, and requires will power to move ahead or change direction, to live our lives differently so that we don’t keep repeating old and dysfunctional patterns of behavior. We expect that of our kids and we expect that of others in our lives. We often don’t expect that of ourselves, though, and keep ourselves moving in the same old ruts, then wonder why life doesn’t improve. One counselor friend calls that “stinking thinking”.

Often, the real work of making a better world goes back to the basics, the simple things that changes lives. The action can be a simple as a short conversation, or the gift of some flowers or a book or a casserole dropped off at a friend’s house. When I’ve been the recipient of such small acts of kindness, I am often transformed and enlightened, and the clouds in my life are lifted. Opportunities open up, all because of a simple act of kindness. It is the power of feeling valued.

“I care” goes a very long way in brightening our world. Yes, some problems are monumental and need years of commitment to be remedied. But, the relationships to implement those solutions are based on acting on healthy and compassionate thoughts. The foundation of that work is in the details, the small things that add up and bring about real change.

“One child, one teacher, one book, one pen can change the world.” Malala Yousa Fzai.

I recently read about Dolly Parton’s generosity. She grew up in an impoverished rural area of Tennessee. After talking with others about the county’s dismal high school graduation rates and literacy statistics, she took action. She engaged high school students to motivate them to graduate. She funded teacher aides for every first-grade class, after learning that having one on one tutoring and attention in the first grade dramatically reduced dropout rates and boosted academic and social success for teens. Every kid began to receive a free book every month. The cost was not astronomical, but her money was prudently invested in small things that transformed lives. That money, and, more significantly, that level of compassion and interest, made all the difference for all of those kids. Someone noticed and cared.

That generosity continues today, and those programs have been utilized across the country. That work addresses basic needs and advocates timeless values of individual attention, one on one relationships, self-worth, and putting books in the hands of eager young people.

We can all do that kind of work and give attention and kindness to those in need.

It can start with a few kind words in the line at the grocery store, or meeting for coffee with a friend who needs a compassionate ear. It’s a hand-written note put in the mail to someone who did a kind deed. Maybe the kindness wasn’t out of the ordinary, but you can at least notice it and tell someone they are appreciated. When you are the recipient of such kindness, “pay it forward” is genuine magic and greases the social machinery.

If you want to change the conversation, if you want to bring about real change, it can start with you.

7/22/2021

A Small Act of Kindness

— Neal Lemery

“Carry out a random act of kindness, with no expectation of reward, safe in the knowledge that one day, someone will do the same for you.” — Princess Diana

The day often offers so many opportunities to be kind, with only a few moments, a few kind words, a charitable act. The occasion offers such potential to ease someone’s burdens, to be a messenger of joy and compassion, to be simply human with each other.

I find myself getting caught up in my to do list, my errands. I become caught up into the American behaviors of rushing through the day, being abrupt, and not engaging with others on a human level. Yes, I can check off my list, and feel a sense of accomplishment, but I often leave my humanity and the humanity of others often neglected, pushed aside by feeling obsessed with getting my work done.

The other day, I was part of a simple business transaction, paying a craftsman for his labor. He was meticulous, professional, and took pride in his work, which I realized was heartfelt and respectable. I took time to thank him, and handed him a check, with a generous tip. My wife asked him about his young son, asking to see a photo. For the next few minutes, we all oohed and awed over the cuteness of the photos and a sweet video that expressed his contagious laugh, the two-year old being exuberant about life and the simple joys in life that a two-year old can so easily spontaneously express. The interaction became a celebration of life and parenthood, and the joys that a small child can bring to the world.

I was thankful that my wife and the craftsman were patient with me, and took the time to pause and celebrate the joys of parenthood. I was again reminded that life is sweet and simply joys need to be shared and enjoyed.

The barista at the coffee shop drive-through always shares her kindness and cheer with me. Her demeanor and courtesy may be a part of her job description, but her good works she shares with her customers are also part of her character, part of her work to enhance the community, and brighten the lives of her customers. Each of us can do that work as we live our lives and interact with others.

The simple acts of kindness, seemingly insignificant at the time, are often the most cherished moments that others experience. The value of what we do in a spur of the moment, without much thought to taking a moment to be kind, can be enormous and widely influential.

Kindness is a two-way street. We often don’t realize that we need to experience a little kindness from others, as well as being the recipient. Our burdens can be heavier than we realize, that we are sometimes lonelier or more needy than we know. While it is “more blessed to give than receive”, and that mindset makes for a better community, we also need to replenish our own “well” of goodness, charity, and kindness. And, in receiving the kindnesses of others, we allow them to find a place to share their love. Allowing others to give to us is also a gift of love. In the sharing lies the fruit of kindnesses.

5/31/2021