Kind of lesson planning.

As I left work walking across the jagged cobblestone street to Washington Park where the small farmers market was set up, my refection of the day was anything but kind. I waited, and waited, seeking something to write about today something inspirational about kindness and giving, but there seemed such sadness in my day.

I felt defeated as thoughts of a dear friend who’s wife lost her battle with cancer this afternoon held a firm grip on me, the weight of his emptiness was a force to be felt by all who love them. Simply reading the words that she passed made me sob and the stinging slap of the finality of death felt all too familiar.

Death. I fear it. I respect it. I have sat beside it.

On my drive home, at a standstill on the bridge in traffic, my mind swirling with nothingness looking up at the clouds through the yellow structure surrounding me, I am reminded of my Dad. Driving in our 1976 metallic green Buick Skylark across the river as they painted that bridge, Big Bird yellow paint splattering the rear fender leaving it’s lasting mark. I would tell the story to anyone who would listen that summer, how our car got painted going over the Big Mac bridge!  On Saturday night I was chatting with friends about the kindest thing anyone has ever done for us. When it was my turn to answer, the words were thick on my tongue, people might think me a fool, or weird but the honest truth is that the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me might not sound all that kind at all. The moment in my life that stands apart from all the other abundant moments of kindness are the moments that were spent in the stillness of the early morning with those gathered around my father’s hospital bed as he passed from this world. My mother holding his head close to hers, my hand wrapped tightly in his as it had been so many times throughout my life when I had been scared. Anita and Sally holding his other hand,  as some  favorite staff members and nurses gathered outside the door softly singing one of his favorite spirituals creating a force of love so strong, he was able to let go.



“As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol’ way
And who shall wear the starry crown?
Good Lord show me the way

O fathers let’s go down
Let’s go down, come on down
O fathers let’s go down
Down in the river to pray”







Look for my Dad on your way through Donna, he will be the guy keeping company with all the stray animals, and listening to Marty call the game on the radio.







At the end of each post for the next two months I will remind you and challenge you to post an act of kindness you experience(d) from the smallest of intentions to something that will leave or has left a lasting imprint on your life, it all matters! Maybe you will view kindness differently or help others see the world through a different lens ….Here is the link to share your thoughts, and remember I will make a donation to Recycled Doggies for each post, if you would rather e-mail me privately you can do so at

Thank you!!!




  1. Phyllis says:

    Crying as I lay here waiting for sleep. I wish I could have net your Dad-I feel like I already know him though 😉

  2. Lillian says:

    Beautiful post – I cried when I read this and thought of your Dad with the stray animals, rooting for the Reds.

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