May 2020

I like to imagine that in these days of sheltering with only those I know - a puppy and a husband - there are multitudes of strangers doing really nice things for those they don't know. I imagine the world is not now full of strangers, but rather of acquaintances who wave to each other every night when it is 7 pm somewhere in the world.  We all suddenly have something in common. There are no more strangers because we are all vulnerable to the same, horrible disease. Of course some are more vulnerable…the older ones, the poorer ones, the ones with pre-existing conditions, the black or brown ones,  maybe even the male ones.  Random acts of kindness may indeed be undulating throughout the emotional chaos that dips in and out like ocean waves that are ceaseless and unending.

Today I wanted birthday cards to send to friends.  My mother wrote me letters for all the years of her life, and I routinely send written notes to express thanks or congratulations. Today, however, I was out of cards.

Our small, independent bookstore just up the street was closed, of course. Books could be ordered on line, but what about cards? I emailed my query and got a quick response from someone named Paul. Now suddenly not quite a stranger. He said he would be in the shop the following day and I could call and he would describe what was available. I have always liked perusing the rotating card holder with the “printed on recycle paper” ones or the elegant letter pressed ones. It turned out Walgreen's was open, but I didn’t want to go there. I didn't want a Peanuts themed one or an oversized, multicolored one with an extensive greeting and too little white space for me to include my feelings.

I called Paul the next day and he described the cards he held in his hand.  “There are three with watercolor scenes.  This one has a pun: ‘You’re still sharp,’ and a line drawing of cacti. Here is one for a belated birthday.”

I needed at least five. Lots of Taurus birthdays, like me. Paul and I talked for another 10 minutes and then I made my choices. I paid with my credit card, happy not to worry about donning gloves or standing 6 feet from the cash register, and making sure my feet were placed precisely on a strip of duct tape denoting safety.

Paul took my address and a few hours later a small, brown bag of cards was delivered to my mailbox.