Kindness, please

Dale came to grips with his age-related hearing loss a few years ago and now wears hearing aids. Occasionally I turn up the volume on the TV, so I might have a bit of hearing loss as well. Not enough to worry about just yet, but still.

Then yesterday I had a conversation on the golf course that made me wonder. My playing partner is a native Californian of Asian American descent. We were outside, getting ready to tee off. We were socially distant, and I was wearing a mask. In my defense, there was a good bit of mechanical noise around us.

She said, “I have something special for us today.”

Really?

I have Asian parents.

At this point, I’m thinking this is the preface to a family story. She’s Asian, her parents are Asian. So far, it makes sense. I nodded.

Then she asked, “Do you like them?”

I’m like, “Um, I don’t believe we’ve met …”

What?

Didn’t you say you had Asian parents?

No! I said I had Asian pears.

We laughed so hard. Good thing I was wearing my mask.

Anyway, Asian pears are delicious, if you haven’t tried them. Crispy but slightly sweet – not unlike myself. 

Kindness, please

Not that I’m normally unpleasant, but my permanent record as revealed by multiple 360-degree reviews throughout my career indicates I can come across as abrupt.

I’ve decided to work a little harder to be nice. I’m just so sick of reading about despicable acts of meanness and have made a personal vow to be as gentle and respectful as possible, even if I don’t particularly like you or disagree with you about politics or anything else. I even thought of a cool t-shirt slogan.

Some fucking kindness, please!

Oh, I guess that’s not in the spirit of things. But you get the idea. Sometimes it’s easy, like when I’m driving, I make a point to let people merge in or get in front of me when they are pulling out of a parking lot into traffic.

Other times it’s harder. A fellow golfer emailed me a long-winded apology about her insignificant breach of etiquette during last week’s play, and I didn’t want to engage in her drama. I simply wrote back, “No worries.” Then I thought, was that kind? She made an effort. It obviously matters to her.

I sent her another email and said I was busy when I replied earlier and didn’t mean to be abrupt. That I truly meant no worries and appreciated her note.

Of course, then I got back another email with more words than necessary, but I think she felt better. And you know, I did, too. I’ll call that a win.

To further my mission of kindness, I voted, hopefully voting out meanness at the top. I took mine to an official drop box. In California, you can sign up for a ballot tracking service, so I received this confirmation:

Your ballot for the 2020 General Election was received and will be counted. Thank you for voting!