The Kindness Cookies

My wife and I love eating out at a certain burger joint that lets you “dress” your own burger. How can you complain when everything but the meat and the bread is put there by your?

I was busy flipping through the lettuce, pickles and mayonnaise when I saw a boy, about six years old, having fits with the ketchup dispenser. He had more ketchup on the counter and floor than in the little paper container. I told him that since he had one hand free, I would get the ketchup out of him if he held the container under the tap.

Mission accomplished as I went back to making my burger. But when the boy turned to walk away, he looked at me and smiled.

“Thank you!” she said softly.

I have to tell you, her thanks trumped some ketchup in the cup. I almost felt guilty that I hadn’t done more for the boy. In fact, this little 30-second scenario reminded me of something my grandmother taught me when she was about the same age as the ketchup guy.

Winters in Texas

One of my biggest thrills growing up came in the winter when my grandmother was staying with us in South Texas. Her husband, my mother’s father, died when I was a baby. Consequently, the loneliness and harsh winters of Oklahoma convinced Grandma to take the train south to stay with us during the colder months.

I always cherished our time together, though those opportunities dwindled a bit when my sister and cousins ​​came along. On one occasion, though, it was just Grandma and me. We had the whole house to ourselves and a great plan for what to do with the opportunity: We were going to make a batch of cookies.

A cookie problem

Now, Grandma’s sugar cookies were legendary. With a bit of pleading, I convinced her to quadruple the recipe. When the cookies came out of the oven, I soon realized that there weren’t enough jars in the house to hold them all.

True to her sensible ways, Grandma solved the cookie problem. She had me put the excess cookies in sandwich bags while she cleaned up the kitchen and grabbed her sweater. We then call neighbors down the block and share our bounty with them. It was an exercise in generosity and grateful reception that has stayed with me all these years.

never out of style

Reading this, I am sure there will be those who will say that this type of kindness has gone out of style, that it would no longer work. Who would dare take those cookies from a semi-stranger at their door today? And, even if they did take them, would they really to eat to them? Who will tell?

Still, if she were with us today, I think my grandmother, for example, would be teaching her grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren that none kindness, no matter how small, yet bill

Maybe that even includes a couple of squirts of ketchup.