it’s been awhiiiileee.  but hey, i got something in the inbox and true to my word…here’s someone’s story of kindness to share.  feel free to share yours!

dated february 26, 2009:

When I was coming to Romania from New York on Christmas, on the way I spent a few days in Dublin, and over there on the way to the airport I met an Italian Girl who moved to Ireland to learn English, and she was so excited I was  coming from the US where I got an education that we had a experience sharing our stories to each other.

So I gave her my favorite book in English as a Christmas present.

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in keeping count of kind acts done unto me or stories retold to me, i am going to keep the same tally.  the first feature at #1 was unnamed muni bus driver for the 24 divis line.  i’m happy to announce barack obama as #2.  no – he didn’t hit up my email inbox personally – thank you to sukari for the forward :)

also, many thanks to leisha at http://leishacamden.blogspot.com for the translation.

excited my busy bee butt found some goodness to share with yall.

peace, seher

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The Norwegian newspaper VG has reported a truly amazing story  about a newly-wed trying to get to Norway to be with her husband, and the stranger who helped pay an unexpected luggage surcharge. The blog “Leisha’s Random Thoughts” has translated the story.

It was 1988, and Mary Andersen was at the Miami airport checking in for a long flight to Norway to  be with her husband when the airline representative informed her that she wouldn’t be able to check her luggage without paying a 100 surcharge:

When it was finally Mary’s turn, she got the message that would crush her bubbling feeling of happiness.

-You’ll have to pay a 103 dollar surcharge if you want to bring both those suitcases to Norway, the man behind the counter said.

Mary had no money. Her new husband had travelled ahead of her to Norway, and she had no one else to call.

-I  was completely desperate and tried to think which of my things I could manage without. But I had already made such a careful selection of my most prized  possessions, says Mary.

As tears streamed down her face, she heard a “gentle and friendly voice” behind her saying, “That’s okay, I’ll pay for her.”
Mary turned around to see a tall man whom she had never seen before.

-He had a gentle and kind voice that was still firm and decisive. The first thing I thought was, Who is this man?

Although this happened 20 years ago, Mary still remembers the authority that radiated from  the man.

-He was nicely dressed, fashionably dressed with brown leather shoes, a cotton shirt open at the throat and khaki pants, says Mary.

She was thrilled to be able to bring both her suitcases to Norway and assured the stranger that he would get his money back. The man wrote his name and address on a piece of paper that he gave to Mary. She thanked him repeatedly. When she finally walked off towards the security checkpoint, he waved goodbye to her.

Who was the man?

Barack Obama.

Twenty years later, she is thrilled that the friendly stranger  at the airport may be the next President and has voted for him already and donated 100 dollars to his campaign:

-He was my knight in shining armor, says Mary, smiling.

She paid the 103 dollars back to Obama the day after she arrived in Norway. At that time he had just finished his job as  a poorly paid community worker* in Chicago, and had started his law studies at prestigious Harvard university.

Mary even convinced her parents to vote  for him:

In the spring of 2006 Mary’s parents had heard that Obama was considering a run for president, but that he had still not decided. They chose  to write a letter in which they told him that he would receive their votes. At the same time, they thanked Obama for helping their daughter 18 years earlier.

And Obama replied:

In a letter to Mary’s parents dated  May 4th, 2006 and stamped ‘United States Senate, Washington DC’, Barack Obama writes:

‘I want to thank you for the lovely things you wrote about me and for reminding me of what happened at Miami airport. I’m happy I could help back then, and I’m delighted to hear that your daughter is happy in Norway. Please send her my best wishes. Sincerely, Barack Obama, United States Senator’.

The parents sent the letter on to Mary.

Mary says that  when her friends and associates talk about the election, especially when race relations is the heated subject, she relates the story of the kind man who helped out a stranger-in-need over twenty years ago, years before he had even thought about running for high office.

ok. let me reiterate: anything i do from here on out, unless otherwise stated, will be totally noncommittal. haha! no promise on consistency dudes – but i will let the wind move me. deal? deal.

over the course of the 30 days project i had some folks do some really dope things for me. i had meant to write about them but keeping up with the regular posts proved to be challenge enough. so now, as i wait for you all to send your stories to me…*nudge* … i’ll try and share other folks’ good deeds here.

nice person i know #1: unnamed muni bus driver for the 24 divisadero line

today.  i was late to work for the billllllionth time or so.  and i mean…i’ve crossed all thresholds of shamelessness…pretty much everyday.  but there’s one threshold i’ve tried to at least diligently avoid – the 10am mark (mind you i’m supposed to be at work between 8.30-9am. not.)

so yeah, that 10am mark was hella about to happen.  everyday when i get off the elevator pathetically late, i say: bismillah ir rahman ir rahim, which in arabic means in the name of God the most Merciful the most Kind.  i always fear that today will be the day i’m fired for being so late, again :D  so i say this phrase as i get off the elevator every morning so that if i do get fired, i can feel a little better that God maybe willed it since i started my descent from the elevator in God’s name.  hahaha – yeah, i’m weird.

anyway.  i run up to my bus stop (i’d walk to bart, but – i’m always late) to find the 24 divisadero bus stopped in front of me.  it never turns onto mission so i figured maybe it was the 14 mislabeled or something.  the doors open and some passengers get out.  i look up at the bus driver hopeful that my hypothesis is correct.  she looks back at me like, “nah, dude” aka “this the 24, buddy.”  i’m looking forlorn at this point – picture this expression amidst my sleepy ass looking half awake – so it’s that half ‘i care but don’t care’ expression…since i’m so tired.  ahhh, limbo.

the bus driver ends up feeling sorry for me, i think – so she asks me where i’m going.  “24th and mission” i tell her.  she tells me she’s going down to 25th anyway so if i don’t mind walking a block – get on.  i still didn’t get why the divis was going down mission, but whatever – i got on.

turns out she was at the end of her shift and was going back to return the bus.  so – i also happened to get “express” service – straight shot to my destination, no stops.

was hella late, still.  but maybe 10+ minutes less late.  i did beat the 10am mark (if it wasn’t for my bus lady, i otherwise probably would have shamed even myself).

i got to make faces at the baby on bart, though.  lip trilling and grunt competitions ensued.

started off my morning so wrong but so right.