Down the drain

500 Words: The Kindness of Strangers

https://open.abc.net.au/explore/59057

Plink…plunk…plonk.

That was the sound my mother heard as I happily dropped the only key to my grandfather’s house down the drain.I was about 12 months old and having a lovely time sitting up in my pram as my mother wheeled me home after a visit to my mother’s aunts.

We were staying at my grandfather’s home in a small village in Malta.

My mother tells me that I had started to grizzle and she was taking me home to have an afternoon nap.

It was a bit of a walk from one relative’s village to the other, so to keep me occupied and to stop me from crying, my mother had given me the only house key that my grandfather owned.

And I had just lost it! My grandfather was quite elderly and also very strict. My mother was afraid to go back to his house without his key – he had a bad temper!

As she stood in the street, quietly crying and staring at the house key which she could see shining in the sunlight, two young boys who were on their way home stopped to see what had happened.The boys sprung into action. First they tried to loosen the grate over the drain – no luck.

Next they tried to poke long sticks down it to hook the key on – again no luck.

One of the boys then had a brilliant idea. He had a packet of chewing gum unopened in his bag. He took out a stick and started chewing.

When it was nicely masticated he popped it out of his mouth and stuck it onto the end of the longest, thinnest and strongest stick he and his friend could find.

Slowly and very carefully the boy manoeuvred the gum-covered stick through the grate and down to where the key was lying.

Mum watched on nervously as the boys, lying flat on their tummies and with their heads down, gently pushed and prodded at the key, trying to get it to stick to the gum.

At last, success!My mother was overjoyed and so thankful to the two young strangers.

She didn’t have much money but what little she had in her purse she tried to give to the boys. The kind strangers refused to take any payment and went on their way, laughing and happy with their good deed and their cleverness.My grandfather was never the wiser about what had happened to his only house key.

And my mother never let me play with the key to anything, ever again!

Help Yourself!!

500 Words: The Kindness of Strangers

https://open.abc.net.au/explore/58683

Have you ever taken things that weren’t yours?

I confess…I have.

Well, they were there for the taking.

And they looked soooooo good.

And I didn’t have any of my own.

And a kind stranger indicated that it was okay. There was such an abundance just sitting there…waiting.

So…I took some.

From the overflowing basket below the handwritten sign that said ‘Help Yourself’, I took a few plump and juicy lemons.

And when I got home, of course I put them to good use!I don’t always take things that kind strangers leave out.

For example, the other day, as I was driving on the main road out of town, another kind stranger had left another message.

Written on a torn-off piece of cardboard box and propped up against a telegraph pole was a sign saying ‘Kaffir Lime Leaves – Free!’ Next to the sign, I could make out a cane basket with stems and leaves poking out. How much fresher could you get?

I didn’t stop to take some – I was driving home from a hard day’s work helping to move offices and had no intention of cooking anything much that evening, but I was struck by the kindness of the stranger in offering such delectable goodies to other strangers.

And I got to thinking about how often people do give their excess produce away to people they don’t know.I’ve seen bags of zucchinis donated to the local charity shop for on-sale to raise money for the poor.

Chokos have been given away for as long as I can remember and I’ve even seen bunches of mint and parsley offered to anyone who wants them.

And have you noticed how good these free, fresh foods actually taste?

So much better than the same items bought from the shop.

Perhaps it’s just the knowledge that someone you don’t know and may never actually meet has taken the time and gone to the trouble to gather their excess produce, put it out in a spot where strangers might pass and offer it to them for free.

It really is a wonderful gift of giving and a humbling gift of receiving!And, of course, the kindness of strangers on roadsides and footpaths extends beyond the giving of fruit and veggies – it extends to the giving of furniture and white goods as well.

On a road I travel very frequently from my home to town, there is often a table of ‘free stuff’ set out for anyone who wants or needs it. Signs, book cases, shelving, glass jars, light fittings and lots of other interesting paraphernalia are there for the taking.On my way home along another back country road only a few days ago, I was once again touched by the kindness of strangers.

A large, cleanish white fridge stood to attention on the side of the road, in full view of anyone passing by.

The sign said it all: FREE
WORKS!

There’s still life in those leaves

500 Words: The Kindness of Strangers

https://open.abc.net.au/explore/58543

Many years ago, our local supermarket used to sell shrubs and seedlings, along with lots of other garden paraphernalia.

The poor plants that were either well past their use-by date or definitely not long for this earth were sat up on a small table and sold off at greatly discounted prices.

I had just finished my weekly shopping with a couple of small children in tow.We stopped to have a look at the ‘dead plant table’, as the kids called it.

A bedraggled bottlebrush caught my eye.

I picked it up in its pot to have a closer look. The poor plant was sticking out of soil that was as hard as cement and almost the same colour.

It was not looking very well at all.

In fact, it was looking decidedly dejected.

Another shopper had stopped at the dead plant table, also.

She watched me as I tried to examine the potted bottlebrush. “You’ll be right with that one, love,” the stranger offered with a smile. “Do you think so?” I replied. “Definitely,” she answered. “Look, there’s still life in those leaves.”I had a closer look. The stranger was right. “Just snip off those dead tips. That’ll do it the world of good.” The stranger grabbed the pot off me and turned it upside down.
Fuzzy, brown fibres that looked like dried shredded coconut were poking out from the holes in the bottom of the black plastic pot. “See that,” the stranger pointed, “root bound.””I don’t have much of a green thumb,” I offered. “Don’t need a green one,” the stranger said, “you just need the one you’ve got. When you get home, tip the pot over, stick your thumb in and pull out the plant. Tease out the roots, give ’em a little trim then plant it in good soil in a sunny spot. No need to coddle it, but just give it some water and keep the weeds away and you’ll be right.” “I don’t know,” I said, my voice wavering.”You’ll be right love,” she said again. “You couldn’t kill that bush with a cricket bat, mark my words.”

And with that she picked up her shopping bags and went on her way.

The stranger’s kind words had encouraged me.

I bought the bottlebrush, took it home and did exactly what she had said.
It took a little while before I saw a turnaround in its condition but once I did, there was no going back for my little friend. It grew bigger and stronger and each year since it has been a prolific flowerer.My reject bottlebrush stands proudly at my front gate, with its beautiful blood-red blooms adorning the entrance to my property each spring. It attracts birds and insects, looks fantastic and gives me so much pleasure.

I am grateful to that kind stranger for her gardening words of wisdom. The encouragement she gave both me and the bottlebrush, who I’m certain was listening also, was very powerful.

She believed that we could do it and we did!

Little boy lost

500 Words: The Kindness of Strangers

https://open.abc.net.au/explore/58424

The setting was perfect.

It was a balmy summer night and the Botanic Gardens were looking lush and well-manicured, a tranquil oasis in the midst of the Sydney concrete jungle.

We were part of an audience of about two hundred people who were watching Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

This show was theatre on the move, which meant that at various points during the performance, the actors and the whole audience picked up sticks and moved to another location within the Gardens.My husband and I were watching the play with our two children. Our daughter was aged 5 and our son was aged 3.

They were really enjoying the performance. The actors in their fantastic costumes were mesmerising.

The first part of the performance ended and it was time for the audience as a whole to move on with the actors.

Along with everyone else, my family got up from our spot on the grass, ready to move. My husband had our daughter by the hand and I turned to get our son who had been sitting quietly beside me for the duration of the show so far.But our son wasn’t there – he was nowhere to be seen! I felt my heart fall into my shoes. I felt faint. I silently screamed.My husband had worked out what had happened and pushed my daughter’s small hand into mine as he took off, following the crowd. I saw his head bobbing up and down, looking over and around the seething mass in search of our tiny son.

My mind was exploding with horrible outcomes:

Our son had been kidnapped.

Our son was hurt.

Our son would never be found. After what seemed like an age, my husband appeared, out of breath, dishevelled and distraught. “I couldn’t see him. Come on. Let’s go. We need to get help.” We hurriedly packed up our stuff. My husband herded my daughter and I to him and we turned, as one, towards the nearest path.”There they are!” I heard a young, familiar voice call out.

Coming from the opposite direction was our son, holding onto the hand of an elderly man.

“That’s them,” I heard him tell the stranger.

We dropped everything and ran to them.

The stranger gave us an understanding smile.”Your little fellow was walking with us. We thought he was with the family in front but when everyone started setting up for the next part of the show, that family told us he wasn’t with them and then we realised we had a runaway on our hands,” he gave a chuckle.

“He’s a very brave little man. I told him I’d help him look for you and he just took my hand and here we are.”We were overwhelmed. “Thankyou, thankyou,” we kept saying.

“No problem,” said the stranger. “See you little mate,” he said, clapping our son gently on the shoulder.

“Bye, bye man,” said our son.

The joy of fishing

500 Words: The Kindness of Strangers

https://open.abc.net.au/explore/58138

We were both in the fishing aisle of a local store. I was examining the lures. He was scanning the shelves.

We squeezed past each other, me with my shopping bags, him with his walking stick.

We caught each other’s eye and smiled. “What are you after?” he asked. “Beach lures,” I replied. “It’s my teenage son’s birthday and he has asked for beach lures. He’s a mad, keen fisherman. How about you, what are you after?” I asked him. “Just looking,” he replied.
He told me he had a couple of rods at home. Hadn’t used them in a while. But he saw the fishing aisle in this store and just wanted to “take a look”.

When he said that, he reminded me of my father, who insisted that he “hated shopping” but would happily spend hours in the hardware section of any store, anywhere!We spent time looking at the shelves, checking out the lures (for me) and the hooks (for him), while discussing the pros and cons of fishing. We chatted about river fishing as opposed to beach fishing, fishing off a wharf as opposed to going out in a tinny. We touched on funny experiences and scary situations.He seemed a bit upset about not having been fishing for a while.

I explained that I didn’t actually fish, but went with my husband and kids and just kept them company. I carried a notebook and pen and took the opportunity to do some writing, if possible.We moved onto the tackle box section and had a chat about the different types. Size, colour and holding capacity were discussed. He still had his old cane tackle box, he said. It sounded like a beautiful piece of fishing equipment. I advised that we had given my son a medium-sized green plastic tackle box last birthday – one with lots of compartments of differing dimensions.I finally chose the beach lures and he decided to buy some new hooks. He also chose some new line – he said he was going to get his old rods out and rig them up again. Then he was going to go fishing.”She’s coming with me,” he said in a loud voice, looking past me to a lady who was walking towards us. She turned out to be his wife.”There you are,” she said, “and where are we going?””Fishing,” we replied, the stranger and I.”Okay,” she laughed, “as long as I can bring my knitting!”Read more of Diana Harley’s writing at her blog dianaharley.wordpress.com