The Impact of Kindness: Riches and Regrets

It is the time of year to look back and remember and to look forward and hope. I am now the mother of four and the grandmother of five and have been married for the second time for almost 30 years. I have some major regrets in my life, mostly centering on ways that I could have better handled the stresses of my divorce in regard to my children. And I have done my best to discuss this with them and to apologize for my limitations.

But beyond this, I find myself looking back and remembering those who showed me enormous kindness -- as well as opportunities for kindness to those I had not been deeply involved with, who reached out, and who I did not know how to respond to. I wonder if you have any of these periods of reflections and wondering, and if you would be comfortable writing about them and sharing.

Here is one that I think of with some regularity. It involved a very kind and hard working professional, who was the vice principal of a large public high school that I attended. Because I had been elected president of the school, it was my job to meet with a man I will call Dr. Joyce regularly about student activities such as the honor club outreach programs, the charity involvements in our school, the activities to better involve the students from abroad who attended our school, etc. Though I did not realize it at the time, our principal disliked Dr. Joyce enormously and created a liason against him with the other vice principal, a woman.

The principal and his female colleague were very stern task makers, and did not have the heart and sensitivity of Dr. Joyce, who was especially interested in why certain students with enormous gifts just did not try. He would suggest certain ways that I could try to involved them in activities that would speak to them, and would say, astutely, I now understand: "Something must be hurting them very much, perhaps at home, or they would care about themselves more."

Dr. Joyce's "colleagues" would put him down publicly: I remember the time that the principal (who did not have a doctorate) announced Dr. Joyce's completion of a PhD at an assembly, concluding with the words: "But he is not principal anywhere." At the time I knew that I felt uncomfortable, but I did not grasp the hostility and ill will of these words.

On one occasion Dr. Joyce and his wife invited the members of student council to dinner at their home. Mrs. Joyce went to so much trouble! There was delicious fried chicken, peas, salad, and apple pie. But for me the food highlight of the evening was the best (from scratch -- I saw their creation, and I am almost sure it was the time before "instant") mashed potatoes that I have tasted -- from that day to this. In the kitchen, helping Mrs. Joyce, I asked it she had any children. She responded that her husband and she had a daughter who died and then graciously changed the subject.

On the afternoon before my high school graduation, at the conclusion of our final meeting, I saw that Dr. Joyce was crying. I did not know what to do, what to say. I just looked at him. And then he said, "I once loved someone so much like you and she died." His words and their intensity numbed me: I did not know how to respond to this aching, lonely and caring man. And so I said nothing.

I never returned to my high school after graduating. I have heard that our principal died a painful death involving cancer, but I do not know what happened to Dr. and Mrs. Joyce. I regret that I never visited Dr. Joyce to thank him for his sensitivity and his caring and his concern for others and to tell him all that it taught me. I believe it would have made a difference to him.

I would like so much to know what you remember about fleeting relationships that have left their marks....

Comments

[miggie1]

I just wanted to add to my earlier comments that I teach my own child differently now and emotions expressed in all sorts of manner are encouraged in our household. I have come to realize one can show strength and express their emotions all at the same time. I am no longer the strong silent type. I still regret so many things though....and hope for the future not to miss any more opportunities to let people know just how I feel. Thank you Ms. Smullens for writing this article; it truly was excellent food for thought for me. I do so admire your work and the sensitive, knowledgable way you approach a subject.

[miggie1]

Perhaps the missed opportunity which saddens me the most was not to tell my father how much I loved and appreciated him before he passed away. I grew up in a family where affection was expressed mostly by my mother and even though my father has shown his love for us in so many ways, he did not express it with words often. It was a show of strength in a way, much like not crying had been. So we grew up showing him we loved him, but never saying it. I also grew up never crying over anything. Not my first day in kindergarden (when all the other kids were crying when their parents left them), not my graduations, not during especially happy or sad occasions. I remember telling my father in my teens at some point that I loved him, and of course I alwasy wrote it on occasion cards (addressed to him and my mother), usually followed by many exclamation marks. But never actually said it other than on one occasion. On his deathbed, I needed to show special strength to my gathered family and again missed the opportunity to tell him (in public or when we had a private moment) how much I loved him and especially how much I appreciated him and all he has done for us. I believe he knew though, saying it might have been mostly for my benefit...but this I will have to live with.

[miggie1]

Ms. Smullens' article struck so many cords in me...and as always, I thoroughly enjoyed it! She has a wonderful way of putting feelings into the written word in such a gifted manner, it is truly a pleasure to read her work. I am reminded of many missed opportunities in my lifetime (some perhaps for the better, but sadly some which I truly regret) in taking the time and effort to tell someone how I truly felt or even offer words of encouragement when needed.

[wbl]

The column by SaraKay Smullens reminded me of those people who I have come across in my life who have believed in me -- perhaps when I didn't even believe in myself. I hope my young son is fortunate to have the same experience because it does make a difference.

[N1512]

SaraKay Smullens' blog reminded me of a teacher I had in the 7th and 8th grades. Her name was Emily B. Stroud, and she had a profound influence on my life. Miss Stroud decided that I had more potential then my grades had shown and quitely encouraged me. I think more to please her than a conscious increase in effort, I began to get "As" in my school work. She was complimentary to my activities, but firm in her requirements. I blossomed under her direction. Unlike SaraKay, I was able visit her in her classroom when I was in college and thanked her for her encouragement of me. I never saw her again and was never able to find her years later when I looked. There is no question that kindnesses shown to you are not forgotten.