For the record, I’m a professional writer. I write for a living and have had many great successes from it. Just kidding – like, wayyyyy kidding. Lara has a gift for, among other things, writing. It’s enviable and amazing and annoying and super. I have a gift for process improvement and auditing but there is no way to sexy that up so I’m not even trying. Before you continue reading this blog, my one ask beg is that you pretend the many grammatical errors are actually a cool new way of writing that no one has caught on to yet.

This story takes place on October 1st or as Lara’s people know it: Day 1 of Adams Acts. It’s a story that even when planned Adams Acts get disrupted, you can always see the kindness – even if it might not be your own.

My lovely parents, Rich and Carol, were in town visiting this past weekend. About lunchtime we had returned back to my 6th floor apartment from a scenic ride down the beach and back. Colin and I were discussing our gourmet lunch of ham and swiss sandwiches when my parents realized I was out of pop (soda for all you non-Michiganders). While giving them an earful of the negative effects of long term diet pop consumption, my dad (ignored me) clearly didn’t hear me and decided to walk across the street to Rite Aid to purchase some chemically sweetened goodness.

One thing you should know before we go any further is that my dad is okay. There were no broken bones or torn ligaments or painful head contusions. There was, however, enormous amount of childlike behavior from his super young looking 37 year old daughter.

About 15 minutes later my dad calls my mom. The conversation is short, less than 15 seconds, during which my mom says things like “Oh?” and “What?” and “Oh?” followed by “Yup, Bye”. Immediately upon hanging up she says “Your dad got hit by a car and is lying in the street near Rite Aid.” Quick check from my 6th floor window confirms dad is lying on the street having just been hit by a car near Rite Aid. We all run, literally sprint, out of the building and down the block. So many things racing thru my mind… How did someone hit my crosswalk law abiding father? Will there be blood? Didn’t I tell him diet pop is bad for him? 

We arrive to this group of 7 lovely bystanders who have all stopped to help my dad and naturally he is smiling – loving the attention. My dad is clearly being well taken care of for just being hit by a motor vehicle and my reaction, finger pointing and all, is to yell “Which one of you hit my dad?!”. I had to be calmed down by a motherly woman who was not my mother “Now dear, don’t get excited. Stay calm”. Colin is standing behind me and I can tell he is now more mortified by his mom’s reaction than with his gramps lying in the street.

I will spare you the details/pain/ridiculousness of my argument with a 70 year old strungout man who claimed to have witnessed my dad walking with his head down so it was clearly his fault. Needless to say it didn’t end well and by not well I mean it ended with me yelling “Bye Felicia” in front of 5 policemen, 2 EMT’s and my son – who was wishing more and more he had a different mom. (Pretty sure I get bonus points for managing to embarrass my teenager twice in a matter of minutes).

Needless to say, the day was supposed to be spent enjoying my parents' company. I had a wedding in New Jersey that night. I was going to buy a million (read: 5) people coffee on my way to the wedding. Big kind things were supposed to be happening all around me!! But instead I yelled at the people who ran to help my dad and I scared off an angry little man with my 90’s gangster movie retorts.

I sat in the ER with my dad for nearly 6 hours with a 19 inch fuzzy-screen TV, so I watched the nurses and the doctors. All at work on a Saturday afternoon - smiling at patients, honestly inquiring about their pain, helping in any way they can – in a nutshell BEING KIND.

I was tasked with picking up the police report for my parents so they could go back to Florida (possibly to never return)… So my kindness to make up for this lackluster performance of my mature adultness was to drop off cookies today to the 100th precinct in Rockaway Beach, NY for responding first to help my dad. For the rest of the month, I will make a point to thank every nurse, doctor, EMT, firefighter and police officer I cross paths with. While people like me are being poopy heads you take the time to be kind every day.