Why Are We So Angry?

I stood in line, returning cheap prints from a local store, herded into a line where an electronic voice instructed us where we should proceed. As I waited, I noticed an older gentleman ahead of me. He proudly wore a veteran’s hat and told the cashier about it. He talked while the cashier listened. Occasionally, the cashier responded with a “yes sir,” but mostly it was the older man describing his days in the military.

I listened with reverence as the man discussed friends on ships, battles, and times forgotten by most and remembered vividly by those who served. I wondered what the older man’s life was like now. How he conversed with a cashier several decades younger than he in a store meant for those with time to spare and money to spend.

Behind me, I heard a woman complain. “What is that man doing? We are all waiting in line and that man is talking to the cashier. Why don’t they move him along?” Then she used several expletives — including names of the God I serve. Then she called the manager and complained. The manager-much to her credit, placated the woman and moved her on in the line.

Eventually, the man moved on with his day. “Sorry I kept you so long young man.” The cashier said a respectful good-bye.

I asked to speak to the manager. “I really appreciated how kindly you treated that older gentleman who seemed to be a veteran.”

She smiled. “Sometimes, people just come in to talk. We need to let them.”

“I appreciate that, ma’am. I will come back.”

And I did.

I live outside of Atlanta. A lot of shooting and hatred going on. Recently, a store cashier was shot because she asked a customer to put on a mask. Today I read of a woman in Ohio who attacked a cashier at McDonald’s because they would not mix one sugary-drink with another one.

What is wrong with us? With me? With you?

I understand that I am not a single mom working two jobs while trying to juggle parenting two boys. I understand I am the color of the majority which perhaps makes my life easier.

But does that mean we as a collective cannot be kind?

My previous boss had a sign outside of her door that read, A kind word is never wasted.

I believe that. The day I moved my father into a nursing home after 6 years of living with my family, I spoke to the floor nurse. “My father has trouble with his bowels. Often, we need to use a suppository to help him. I’ll call to check on him and make sure all is okay.

She looked directly at me and responded, “Ma’am, I am not sure we will give you any information since I won’t really know if you are his daughter. Because of privacy laws I don’t know that we will be able to help you.”

On that day, I almost hated that woman and vowed to call and have her fired.

Then I asked. How should I respond?

I decided on the Biblical approach. “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” Romans 12:17–18

I began to pray for the woman. I brought food and flowers to Dad’s floor. Eventually, I found out the nurse I vowed not to hate lived with her adult son who was dying of diabetes. She had a backstory I did not know.

Everyone does.

I wrote this blog while munching on breadsticks and pasta at The Olive Garden. I wore sweats and a stained t-shirt. My hair stuck out haphazardly from above my cheap reading glasses.

As I left the restaurant around 3pm, I noticed two older couples waiting for a table. Smiling, I wondered if there was an Early Bird Special for seniors. As I headed for the exit, one of the grey-haired-men hurried to open the first door for me. “Hold on a minute and let me get the second one for you,” he stated with a grin.

“You are truly a gentleman,” I said.

“You just caught me on a good day. And by the way, have a good day.”

I did. In fact, his kindness reminded me of the saying, “A kind word is never wasted.”

Neither is a kind deed.

Let’s exchange kindness for anger.

Pass it on.