Poosey Digest: People we meet

When Mother Teresa received the Nobel Peace Prize for her work with the slum dwellers of Calcutta, she made a brief acceptance speech. I’m probably paraphrasing a bit, but it went something like, “It seems ironic to receive a prize for doing the bare minimum.”

Bare minimum… wow. Forty-five years ministering to the poor, sick, orphaned, and dying, and she felt that was the least anyone could be expected to do. Her legacy is a network of 610 missions in 123 countries. She was criticized roundly by many journalists during her lifetime, never once speaking to defend herself.

Awards are plentiful. There’s hardly a club or organization that doesn’t shovel them out by the bushel and I suppose that most recipients are more than deserving. I’ve always wanted to attend a high school commencement ceremony where they gave a “Good Kid” award. The introductory speech might go something like, “Michael wasn’t much of an athlete and you won’t find his name on the basketball trophy in the hallway. He was never elected prom king and never quite had the grades to make the high honor roll, but you know what? He was a genuinely nice kid. Fair weather or foul, he was kind. His main concern is always you and not himself.”

As my friends return from their summer vacations I’m treated to some truly wonderful stories of glaciers, cathedrals, safaris, and resorts, but my ears perk up when they talk about the people they’ve met – the shop keeper on the Via del Corso, the flight attendant on the way to Montreal, the little lady who shared their table on Norwegian Cruise Lines.

And I think to some of the “Nice Award” winners I’ve met around the world, the memories of whom linger long after I’ve forgotten the age of the local cathedral.

The teenage girl on our tour of Italy had scraped together barely enough money to pay for the flight, but seeing Europe had always been her dream. She had little money for souvenirs and that was okay with her. But when she saw “the perfect t-shirt” in Pisa her big blue eyes told us that this was something she wanted. The corpulent Italian behind the counter shot her a price. She looked at the shirt, counted her change, then sadly told him she couldn’t afford it. He looked at her disappointed face a moment then handed her the shirt. “For you!” he said. “I like your eyes!” He needed a Nice Award.

It’s more of an old stereotype than a present-day reality, but the French have never been known for their friendliness… especially Parisians. I’d just sat down at a Paris bistro with a young friend from Illinois and we’d ordered our meal when a rotund customer in a three-piece suit shouted, “No! No!” He grabbed our waiter and brought him back to our table. I could tell from his gestures that he was telling the poor server that we’d ordered the wrong thing. The wrong thing? He changed our order… to a much more expensive dish. Then he asked if he could join us and ordered a bottle of very expensive wine. The guy was just learning English and said he’d like to practice on us. I was glad to chat with the fellow but all the time I was wondering how I’d pay for the meal in this restaurant that took no credit cards. At the end of the meal he smiled and said, “You are people! I am people! We are all just people, okay?” Then he laughed, picked up our check and paid for the entire meal. My stumbling French translates Nice Award to “Nais Prix.”

And it’s true. I’ve seen it. If a London Bobby has time and you seem lost, he or she will escort you to your destination.

Moscow’s first McDonald’s had just opened and the lines literally stretched two blocks. My little group of Midwesterners walked to the end of the line and we were about to give up and go elsewhere when someone shouted “Amerikans!” Those within earshot turned and looked at us and nearly every one of them stepped aside to let us move up in the line. We declined, but our smiles handed out dozens of Nice Awards.

Oh, that we could learn to ignore the official proclamations of our governments, disregard our tariffs and embargos and just get to know the people. John Steinbeck said, “I have grown to dislike every government and love every people.” You are people. I am people! We are all just people, okay?

After Mother Teresa accepted her Nobel Prize a reporter asked, “What can we do to promote world peace?” She said, “Go home and love your family.” I would add to that, “Just be nice to strangers.” You might win a prize.

You ever in Poosey, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.