I went downstairs this afternoon to see if the mail had been delivered, and the front desk receptionist asked me if I might be of help. There was a short, dark-skinned gentleman standing there, holding an insulated bag in one hand and a cell phone in the other.
“He is deaf,” Letta said. “He is trying to make a delivery, and he can’t find the address. And I don’t know where it is, or if it even exists.”
He pointed to the address on his phone, and I thought it would be a two minute walk. I
shrugged my shoulders, smiled, and gestured, mouthing the words, “follow me.” No big deal. It was cold, but I had a jacket.
We walked outside, crossed the street, walked half a block, and quickly discovered that Letta was right. 1301 New Hampshire Avenue does not exist. The only building in that tiny block is 1303. A look of frustration - bordering on despair - seemed to cross his face. He handed me the phone.
I pushed the button to call the number. It had a (650) area code. A woman answered. I told her I was helping a deaf gentleman make a delivery, and we couldn’t find 1301 New Hampshire.
“Oh,” she said. “I’m in the hotel.”
There was a boutique hotel directly across the street and we proceeded to cross New Hampshire Avenue and go to the front desk of 1310. Someone had transposed the numbers and given the delivery man the wrong street address.
I explained to the hotel front desk clerk that the gentleman was trying to make a delivery, and the gentleman opened his insulated bag. Inside was a large paper bag from Wendy’s. He was delivering food. He pointed to his phone, and there was a woman’s first name. But there was no room number.
The front desk clerk went through the list of guests, and found one with that first name. “Room 301,” he said. I signed 301 to the gentleman, but the front desk clerk insisted on taking him upstairs.
He nodded to me, I nodded back, they headed for the elevator and he was gone.
In a minute or so, I was back at my place, and Letta kept thanking me. I thanked her for allowing me to do something worthwhile.
This all happened about two hours ago, but, forgive me, I can’t stop thinking of that man. Our world is full of good people who struggle each day to make a go of it. They are people who work hard, often at very low wages, to feed their families and maintain their dignity. How difficult - and lonely - and frustrating it must be at times to be deaf or have some other disability. And yet they persevere.
The delivery man did not know it, but he gave me a gift. He reminded me that, in spite of all that is troubling in our world, we are in this together. And small acts of help and kindness can warm our hearts and give our lives purpose and meaning in the coldest and darkest of Decembers.
He reminded me that my troubles really don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world, and that the teaching of the Talmud is spot on when we are taught that one of the pillars upon which the world is built is mitzvot. Good deeds and kindness.
And he reminded me of Jesus’ teaching, that “that which you do unto the least of these, my brethren, you do unto me.”
It is Christmas time, and ours is a world of wounded souls. Fixing the world is a big job, and I’m not sure any of us can make much headway on that. But each of us can fix - or make gentle - someone’s little world.
We can each resolve to perform at least one random act of kindness each day - without expectation of reward - to make someone’s life more pleasant, to brighten someone’s world.
He was simply a guy trying to deliver a couple of hamburgers to some lady who probably just got off a plane and checked into her hotel. And he was deaf and couldn’t find her place. He needed someone to give him a hand, for just a minute. That’s what they call the power of the powerless. His powerlessness at that moment helped me find meaning and purpose, if only for that short while.
I don’t know his name. I don’t know where he comes from. He was in my life for maybe five minutes. But I can’t get him out of my mind. I owe him big time for that gift that he gave me. He reminded me what I learned as a child and too often forget. That it is better to light a single candle than to curse the darkness. And it is far, far better to help and to give than it is to receive. Thank you, sir.
Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays.