Chivalry is not dead ... yet. Or rather, I should say simple compassion, simple humanity and concern for others—or as that insurance giant declares, “doing the right thing”—are not dead yet.
While at Home Depot last night, my husband would not allow me to buy a few strawberry plants; it has to be a specially crafted plan. The blueprint for how it will look is in his head, of course nothing in writing. It will require several very long and heavy pieces of wood, several more short pieces of wood (slightly longer than something the Slayer would use on a vampire), and several supersized bags of mulch. Naturally, more cow manure for good measure.
Of course, I left my bionic woman T-shirt at home, the one with superpowers to transform my scrawny upper arms and body.
After verifying that the lumber was pressure-treated—very important, don’t you know—we paid for and began to place the lumber in the back of the Blazer. There are four 4x4x8 pieces weighing likely half a ton. I asked my husband if he wanted me to help, since I am forty-nine and he is seventy and I think I weigh five more pounds than he does since we are the same height. A very nice looking young man of about twenty-three was passing by and I noticed him stopping to look at us a couple times. I didn’t know if wanted to truckjack the Blazer, or if it was the sight of a soon to be fifty-year-old female that caught his eye, or maybe the terrier in the truck. Must have been the terrier.
He put his goods in her car and walked back to us and offered to help. I nearly dropped my jaw. The smile I gave him must have lit up the late-afternoon sky. My husband thanked him profusely and insisted we would be fine.
I was shocked, amazed, and warmed inside my heart that there is someone like this young man around who would actually offer to help. Miracles never cease. May the goodness of that boy’s heart keep him forever young. Then I bought my husband takeout so he would have to stand over a hot grill.