As a follow-up to my, Gun To Your Head Giving, piece, I want to share a thing or two.
I love to give. As I’ve said many times, generosity is the great elixir to personal pain, taking you out of yourself and all your woes without having to pop a pill, pour a drink or visit a phycologist who’s buying a house in the Hamptons with her holiday fees alone.
People who appear inconsequential in one’s life, are the ones who also make up its fabric.
They’re the ones my heart happily opens for.
There’s Charlotte, the Starbucks Barista who, if I’m looking a little sad, will present me with a complimentary slice of strawberry cheesecake, such a treat, especially at 5 in the morning.
Hand lotion might be nice for those working hands of hers.
Vivy, the shy girl at the all-night Duane Reade, I buy stamps from, always offering her one, she’ll take with a grin. I’m going to go to the post office and pick out a book of special stamps to place in a card, so she knows, she’s appreciated at 3 a.m. when I can’t sleep.
Then there’s the paperboy I’ve come to admire who shows up every day, hailing from the Bronx at 6, so we can have our Post, and New York Times. He’s a proud sort of kid, so a box of hand-warmers might be an appropriate gift, or socks, to offset the cold he stoically stands in.
Mustn’t forget spinach man at the local market, quiet and polite, very urbane in his pressed white coat and ponytail, held neatly back with a navy ribbon. “It’s fresh,” he’ll say, as he gives me a little extra as if he knows…table for one?
He’ll get a Starbucks card.
This is the group my heart sings Joy To The World to.
They’re humble, helpful and happy, just to be a part of our world.
Dolphins, not sharks, swimming serenely in our midst, smiling at the mere sight of you.
For them, I rejoice.