Five Little Stories on The Power of Human Connection (from Donna)

In the airport in Orlando, Florida, waiting for a flight: an Asian family was posing for a photograph. The grandmother was standing with three small children as the children's mother was trying to take the photo. The kids were squirming around and the grandma and mom had their hands full trying to keep them still.

At one point, grandma was getting a bit exasperated; as she looked away, her glance fell upon me. I smiled and shook my head, just sort of connecting with her about how hard it is to get little ones to settle down for a photo. She returned the smile and waved a greeting.

When her daughter had snapped the photo, she motioned for me to come over. She embraced me and kissed my cheek, and asked her daughter (in Chinese, I think) to take a photo of the two of us together. We smiled for the camera, arms around each other, embraced once more, and then we were off in separate directions. No words passed between us.

*************************************************

Last week, I taught the second part of a new mediators' training course in London. The cultural and ethnic make-up of the small group of trainees was quite diverse: a British woman of Greek descent, a woman from Belgium, a white British man, a man from Nigeria, 3 women from

various parts of West Africa, and a white British woman. They were also diverse in terms of educational background, economic status, and age. But, they formed a bond and became very close. When one of the participants (a white British man) left before the last day, others felt

quite sad that he had gone.

One of the women in the group was very quiet throughout the two week course. She always looked interested in what was being shared, but

didn't offer much herself. After the first week of the training, I left to come back to the States for a week's break, between the two parts of

the course. As I was saying my farewells to the group, she asked me to greet my family for her and for others on the course, and to thank them

for allowing me to be away so that I could be with the training group.

On the final day of the course, she embraced me several times and told me how much she would miss me. I told her that I could tell she had a place in her heart for the work and that I thought she would become a good mediator. She told me she would hold on to my words as

encouragement.

*************************************************

Several months ago, I sat beside a man and his daughter on an airplane, flying from London to St. Louis. The man worked at a university in St.

Louis. He had come to the USA from Nigeria. It's a long flight, and we talked quite a bit. After a while, the subject of racism in America came up.  He told me that his father, who still lives in Africa, had always told him that when he became discouraged about the way he might

be treated by people who are racist, he should remember, also, the many kind people in the world, and all those who had helped him to "come up." He said it was his goal to pass this message on to his own children.

In a similar vein, I recently rode in a taxi driven by a 61 year old man from Jamaica. He told me about how much he owes to his mother. He said

she always told him the most important thing in life is the way you treat other people. She had told him you may be the smartest man or the

richest man in the world, but it wouldn't mean a thing unless you treated others with respect. He told me about how often the black person is still not treated with dignity, still held back. But, he

said, he knows who he is, and because of the way his mother raised him, he has maintained his own dignity, his own self respect.

*************************************************

I was in a pizza hut with a friend not long ago. A bunch of guys from Pakistan were working there. The fellow who seated us was, I thought,

especially polite and friendly. During our meal, one of the servers dropped a plate as he was clearing the table behind me. It shattered

and some of the splinters were thrown over by our table. Immediately, the server who had dropped the plate came over to see if I was OK. Then our server came, and quickly after that, the manager. All were very concerned to see if I had been harmed in any way. They quickly cleared the broken pieces from the floor by my feet. One even checked the bottoms of my shoes to be sure no little shards had been caught there! And, no, I don't think they were worried about being sued. It was just

kindness.

*************************************************

Last year, when I was in London, I bought a water color painting from a white woman with a stall at an open air market. Her tables were

arranged under a vinyl canopy. During our transaction, a pigeon perched at the edge of her canopy and pooped on my shoulder.  She reached for a tissue, leaned over her table, and cleaned off the spot, smiling as she did and telling me the British say it's good luck for a pigeon to poop on you! Last weekend, I visited the same open air market, and came across the same woman. At her table was a painting I had debated about buying the year before but had chosen not to. And here it was!

I introduced myself to her, reminding her of how we'd met the previous year over the pigeon incident. We both had a good laugh. I bought her painting, which she signed with a warm inscription, and we wished each other well, until next time.