Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, February 19, 1995 TAG: 9502170018
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: CODY LOWE
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
My wife can testify to that. I usually wait until the last minute to buy the gifts for birthdays and anniversaries and Christmas and Valentine's Day.
I do THINK about them ahead of time, but as most good journalists do, I wait until the absolute last minute to meet the deadline.
On Feb. 13, I was cruising the wine aisle at Kroger, looking for something to complement the ribeye steaks I was going to grill for the special Valentine's Day supper.
Just down the aisle two men were conversing in what appeared from my limited high-school comprehension to be fluent French. This was a good sign - people who spoke French, looking through the French wines.
I figured I'd just hang around, waste a little time studying the labels I could barely figure out, and wait for the French speakers to make a selection.
Then, of course, I'd take a look and follow their lead.
A new-found friend had revealed a secret to me at a recent fancy dinner - she and her husband usually picked not the cheapest wine on a menu but the next most expensive one when they were choosing at a meal.
It seemed like a good idea. You don't get stuck with the bottom shelf, but you don't get burned with a pretentious wine that didn't really give you any more for the buck than a less expensive one.
I was looking for just such a nice red vintage when one of the French speakers turned to me.
"Looking for a red wine?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact, I am," I said. It wasn't exactly a Sherlock Holmes-deduction since I was in the red wine section, but I was impressed with his impeccable French and English accents.
He pointed out one that was "very good," but, he said, this other one - that was actually a little cheaper - was even better. "An excellent Beaujolais."
"In Quebec," his home, this particular vintage and label cost "twice this much," he said. "Excellent."
I thanked him, and with little other consideration picked up a bottle of the wine he'd suggested.
As it turned out, he was so right. It was an excellent wine, perfect for the steaks and a night that was as romantic as could be expected when the children were eating with us.
It was such a simple thing - suggesting a wine - but what a powerful symbol of the best that is in us.
That man and I were - and are - strangers. We had no special obligations to each other. We weren't even involved in a conversation that had any serious overtones or implications.
It was a simple kindness.
When we think of doing good for one another, we often think of the biblical example of one person "laying down his life" for another. Fortunately, we rarely have an opportunity to make such an example of love for our fellow human beings.
What we DO have - almost every day - are almost insignificant occasions to show that we are willing to be good neighbors and loving agents of a universal beneficence.
With only a few sentences, a kindly stranger connected with the very essence of my being - my soul, if you will.
He was "good."
I left his presence with a smile and an unconscious determination to be "good" to the next person I met as well, willing to forgive the usually infuriating bad driving etiquette or impolite shove at the cash register.
I hope, I pray, it was a little foretaste of what heaven must be like.
By simple kindness, we show our brotherly love
by CNB