What about you?

Carole Olsen asks Are you a kind person? On this National Kindness Day.

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Her prompt reminded me to fill out the Alt Text field for the first photo. Isn’t that interesting? Carole nudged me toward a small act of kindness for those who could not see the picture. Occasionally, an editor will do the same, as if to say, “Come on, Paul, it’ll only take a minute of your precious time.”

Kindness is more than a feeling. At its core is action. Unsurprisingly, the late Mr. Rogers captures it’s essence:

I hope you’re proud of yourself for the times you’ve said ‘yes,’ when all it meant was extra work for you and was seemingly helpful only to somebody else.

Kindness requires that I extend myself to you.

Most of the time, I don’t want to. Instead, I act in my self-interest. It seems that is how most humans are.

Unless you’re a member of my family when the arrows naturally point outward.

I’ll bet you’re the same. Imagine your worst fear. Mine is this.

I’ve been claustrophobic since I was a kid. When my friends and I snuck into a drive-in theater, I refused to take my turn hiding in the trunk.

Yet, if I needed to crawl into this tunnel to rescue my son, I would, unhesitatingly. The same would be true for my partner, Rebecca. So, it isn’t just about a blood tie. I’m unsure I could do it if my first cousin Jim, who I like, needed help: “Jim, hold on, the rescue team is on the way.”

My good friend Ed and my favorite Medium writer would also have to wait.

And you, even if you give me 50 claps and an “I love this story.”

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Acting kindly toward others often depends upon who the other is and how difficult the action is.

My tunnel example is an outlier. Usually, an act of kindness does not require facing our scariest fear.

For example, a friend, Maggie, was a student in a Lifelong Learning course on the 2024 American Presidential election I taught in September. Our class decided to meet again on November 6, the day after Donald Trump beat Kamala Harris. I wrote a little story about this session here.

Most of the twenty-two who showed up last Wednesday were deeply disappointed. Several emailed me saying they couldn’t face talking about what they considered a tragedy for America. Honestly, I probably would have stayed home.

When the mike was passed to Maggie, she said, “I came today because Paul is a friend.”

That was an act of kindness because it required Fred Rogers’ “extra work.” Maggie sacrificed her desire to stay home for me.

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It’s difficult for humans to extend themselves to others, especially those outside their immediate family.

I’ve noticed something inside me since Mr. Trump won re-election. I first felt it last Wednesday morning as I settled into the shock of the Trump win. Anger, sadness, fear, anxiety, frustration, hopelessness, embarrassment (for my country), and guilt, every negative feeling is banging around inside me.

But the primal scream is not all there is.

There’s something else I can only describe as kindness — a need to look out for others.

Trump’s America is an unkind place, particularly to those who don’t look like me and Donald, white males.

It’s almost as if my 75-year-old body grabbed and directed those red arrows outward.

I find myself, more than ever before, scanning my little world to see what I can DO to make life easier for others.

Trump has taken so much from me, from us.

I won’t allow him to take this.

To save myself, I’ve got to do what I can to help others.

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