Monday, April 22, 2013

Leaving a Legacy on the Road



The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things you do for others remain as your legacy. Ndukwe Dike Kalu

I like to think of myself as a helpful individual. When someone is stuck in a snowdrift, I will generally help them out. When someone is in hospital, I will make an effort to visit. When someone is struggling in some way, I might make a suggestion – if asked.

I really do try not to give unwanted or unsolicited advice, not because my opinions aren’t good (there have been times they have been very good, in fact), but I have learned that my help or suggestions do not always provide the results desired.

I learned that once again this week when my wife and I stayed a night at the Days Inn in Coeur d’Alene. It had been a rough weekend for us and we were on our way home from Seattle. Normally I would have pushed through another six hours to enjoy the comforts of our own home in our own bed, but I knew we wouldn’t make it – at least not the way we were feeling at that point. It was supper time and we were exhausted, so we called it a day.

We enjoyed a good night’s sleep. Although we did not qualify for any discounts, our motel clerk gave us an unofficial Good Neighbor discount anyway. Gracias amiga!

The next morning we were quite refreshed and were prepared to hit the road after enjoying a meal in the motel breakfast room. I poured a bowl of cereal and discovered their milk dispenser was empty, so I found the morning clerk and told her about it. She quickly went and got a fresh carton of milk and began the process of removing the empty and replacing it with the new.

I watched her snip off the end of the milk tube before she put it into the dispenser and knew immediately she was going to have problems. At that point she became flummoxed and unsure what to do next, so I got up to help her. I pinched the tube next to the carton so she could feed the line through the handle and, together, we got the job done with very little loss of moo-juice.

She thanked me for my help and complimented me on my superior mechanical skills. I peshawed and told her I was just happy to help. Then … catastrophe!

I lifted the handle to dispense milk into my bowl of cereal, and upon releasing it a fountain of milk began to spray up from the handle like Old Faithful! Fortunately I was able to save myself and my bowl of cereal with a hasty retreat to the far side of the room. The clerk swung open the door and pinched the tube with one hand while clipping it with an industrial strength paper clip she had lying handy nearby. Thus ended the eruption of Mount Moosuvius.

Our clerk was very apologetic for the mess and trouble as she cleaned it up, but we assured her it wasn’t a problem – because it wasn’t. It was a Monday morning, and I have no doubt machines hate Mondays as much as the rest of us. We thanked her for her hard work (and for the floor show), finished our meal, checked out, and finished our trip home.

Life happens. The way we handle our part will either make the world a better place or not. I know I have a lot of room for improvement in my life and attitudes, but if I was able to depart, leaving the motel clerk with hope that the rest of her day would be better, then I probably did as much as could be done, despite the results of my help.

After all, there’s no use crying over spilt milk in this, our valley (or anywhere else) – is there?

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