Cup of kindness
It’s all in how you look at your situation
It has been said the language of kindness allows the blind to see and the deaf to hear.
While this may give some insight to kindness it is much more. I believe kindness is part of our genetic makeup and all of us use and experience it. I believe hate is taught and fostered within us. Kindness simply flows and requires no acknowledgement.
I didn’t run away. I just walked out the gate. It was a beautiful summer’s day in the Halifax of 1956. I was 10 years old and everything looked beautiful on the other side of the big green fence that surrounded the courtyard where we all played that lived at St. Joseph’s Orphanage. The air smelled so sweet from all the flowers blooming, trees were at their peak with their beautiful summer’s foliage and the birds were singing. What a day for an adventure. I certainly had my share of them already in my short but wonderful life.
I remembered the day I came there. It was over a year ago now. I was sitting by the roadway on the sidewalk that went into the Catholic Church in Timberlea just outside of Halifax. Just a pair of shorts on no shoes or top.
It was a warm sunny morning and I came here often to pass the time, digging the grass out between the big sidewalk blocks with my jackknife that my favorite uncle had given me. Just then a big black car drove up, a man and women got out of the car, came over to me and said you have to come with us now. I was no stranger to people taking me here or there so I just jumped in the car and thought to myself, wow, great day for a drive.
When they arrived at the orphanage I didn’t know what to expect and I was a bit anxious to say the least. However with a warm smile, a soft voice and gentle hands, one of the sisters led me down the hall through a variety of rooms to what finally was the commissary. There she told me to hold out my arms and started piling clothes from shorts to socks and finally on top of the pile, a pair of shoes.
Wow! My very own shoes.
We then went to the boy’s dormitory where beds were lined up on both sides of the room evenly spaced about 15 to a side. There we piled my clothes neatly into a small open dresser. I never knew you had to have so many different clothes and such. Like a tooth brush or pajamas - now who wore pajamas?
After that a routine was set in place from going to school, mealtimes in the cafeteria, worship and of course playtime in the courtyard. That’s just where I was on that day I walked out the open gate to freedom to just go look and see all the wonderful sights. I didn’t run but merely walked at a leisurely pace enjoying all the sights and sounds, feeling any minute someone would surly come looking for me and take me back. But no, I just kept on walking. Minutes turned into hours and I got further and further away, not running away, just walking away.
It was so exciting looking in all the store windows and seeing all kinds of kids my age running here and there. They all looked to be having a great time and no one seemed to be overseeing them. I was so taken up with it all, time just slipped away and the first thing I knew it was getting dark. I didn’t really know where I was but started taking notice that everyone was going home and now it was really dark and I didn’t know what I would do next. Then I saw an apartment building and some people went in, so I followed behind and went in too.
There was a hallway with stairs going up and down, I took the stairs down to the bottom and noticed a small opening under the stairs and I peeked in - just an open space. So I crawled in, laid my head down and was soon fast asleep.
The next morning I was up early, hungry and looking for something to eat, not sure what or where I would find something. I was walking along a street with lots of nice houses when I noticed a man delivering milk to one of the houses.
The milkman would take the full bottles of milk, put them on the step, then take the empty ones that were sitting on the step, turn them over and empty the change that had been placed in the bottles the night before. Then he would put the change in the purse that was strapped around his waist. He would take the empties back to his truck, drive to the next house and do it all over again.
I watched him for a few houses and then decided that looked easy. So I ran ahead a block or two, went up the steps to a couple of houses, emptied the milk bottles, took the change and left. Then to add insult to injury I circled back around and saw the milk man again. When he went up to the house, I jumped up in the truck, took a bottle of chocolate milk and took off running.
My next discovery was a truck going door to door delivering bread. So what’s a guy to do? I jumped in the bread truck while the driver went up to the house and grabbed a package of what I found out later were some sort of biscuits with raisins. They were some good with chocolate milk.
The rest of the day I had enough money for lunch and supper at a host of small diners. For the next week, I never went hungry. I just had to make sure I went to different neighborhoods. In the meantime, I found a really nice cardboard box which I put under the stairs of the apartment. It made a good bed.
My days were filled with exploring, walking for miles and seeing all the sights. I even made friends with a couple of kids my age and we would go swimming in the North West Arm.
On one occasion they said they were going to a movie the next day to see Davy Crockett. They asked if I wanted to go, I said sure, not quite familiar with what a movie was. This involved getting a few more milk bottles the next morning to pay for the show. It was the first movie I had ever seen; it was fantastic and created an insatiable appetite for the rest of my life.
Then the boys started asking me where I lived and who was my mother and father so that was the end of that friendship. I never saw them again.
As with all good times they come to an end and mine was the next day. I was walking down Quinpool Road when a policeman came up to me and asked where I lived. I said oh just around the corner to which the policeman replied, show me.
I went to the corner and when I got there I took off running as fast as I could but I just couldn’t out run the policeman. The next thing I knew we were back at the orphanage and there was Sister Superior and Sister Theodore. I was scared to death. What were they going to do to me? But to my relief, they gathered me up in their arms and just hugged and hugged me. I was stunned.
Just a smile or a gentle touch can change not only the moment for someone but the rest of their life.
I experienced my cup of kindness as a young boy in St. Joseph’s orphanage in Halifax. When I first arrived, scared and all alone, Sister Theodore, one of the nuns working there, took me aside. With her warm smile and gentle voice, she sat me down, gave me a cup of hot chocolate and assured me I would be OK. She told me not to be afraid, that she would look after me.
Even after running away for over a week, only love was evident. My cup of kindness was and still is that memory that has carried me through the gauntlet of life.
“I didn’t run but merely walked at a leisurely pace enjoying all the sights and sounds, feeling any minute someone would surly come looking for me and take me back. But no, I just kept on walking.”