Depend on the kindness of strangers
MY FATHER was walking slowly to an appointment in Bath when he noticed a pillar box and remembered he had a letter to post. But at 92 he’s not as nifty as he once was, and he tripped and fell.
To his relief four people came rushing forward, all of them young, all eager to take care of him. They couldn’t have been more kind, he told me — adding that people moan about the young, but his experience was different.
‘I have always depended on the kindness of strangers’ is a famous line from A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams, a production of which is currently wowing theatregoers in the West End.
That kindness was what Dad experienced and what we all need, at some time in our lives. But we can all be guilty of seeing a stranger in trouble and assuming someone else will help. The worst is when people whip out their smartphones to film instead of rushing to the rescue.
This interesting issue is at the heart of a new campaign by Anthony Nolan, the UK’s blood cancer charity and bone marrow register.
It commissioned a You-Gov survey which revealed people are more likely to save their pet than a male or teenage stranger — and may pretend to text (for example) if they see a stranger in trouble.
Yet the charity’s work is proof people do still care enough to save the life of someone they’ve never met, and know nothing about.
Every day, three amazing donors will donate their stem cells or bone marrow to someone in desperate need — the ultimate act of kindness, and last chance of survival for someone with blood cancer. And they point out that donors always say this was the easiest yet the most rewarding thing they ever did.
See anthonynolan.org for more information and inspiration. On the subject of such generosity, visit organdona
tion.nhs.uk as well. As for my dad, he’s a Liverpool man with a ready quip — even when he’s down. He told his kind young rescuers the truth: that he was on his way to Specsavers!
Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Scottish Daily Mail, 20 Waterloo Street, Glasgow, G2 6DB, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. A pseudonym will be used if you wish. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.