This is the follow-up to LIVING AND DYING WITH CANCER: A kind stranger made our world a better place, published last month, with more monthly installments to come.
For the first time in a long time, my wife Lily and I were happy. Now we both had hope. We finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel. We were going to be able to clean out the house. We were going to be able to sell it, and we were going to go home. There was a lot of work still ahead, but we were fortunate to have some wonderful people to help us. Before I tell you about those people, you need some more context.
We were in St. Louis, Missouri. It was November 2020. It was days after the U.S. election, and yet we still didn’t know who won. There was a pandemic and somehow the two got intertwined. There were a lot of angry, angry, people in Missouri in November 2020.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been to St. Louis. Lily and I had been there many times over the years. From my perspective, there has been a lot of anger in Missouri for a very long time. I noticed it there on one of my first trips to St. Louis. Whenever we were in the city, we’d get lunch from a Steak and Shake or an Arby’s or some other fast food place. Most of the fast food places in St. Louis are staffed by black Americans.
I went inside to order and experienced something I’d never experienced before. I had someone look at me with hatred in their eyes. It was unmistakable. I feel the need to pause here and tell you that my father was born in Belen, New Mexico and my mother was born in Brussels, Belgium. They met during the Second World War. I’m as pasty-white as my mother, but I’ve been around black Americans all my life. It’s not even something I think about, or at least I didn’t think about it until that moment.
Hatred. It was a look I’d never seen before, ever. I’ve made plenty of people mad at me because of things I’ve done, but no one had ever looked at me like that before. I was stunned. I didn’t know what to do. I ordered, paid, got my stuff, said “thank you” and left. I didn’t get to play the “How are you doin’ today?” game. More on that later!
I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make them look at me that way. The best way to describe it is from something I heard Dave Chapelle say on Saturday Night Live in 2020. He called it “Random Acts of Kindness for Black People.” The premise was to do something nice for a black person just because they’re black. The catch was that you had to make sure that they don’t deserve it. It was important, because for all those years terrible things were done to black people, just because they were black, and they didn’t deserve it.
I didn’t deserve that look of hatred. I’d done nothing wrong to that worker, and yet they hated me just the same. I thought to myself, “How badly have you been treated by people who look like me to look at me that way?”
“How are you doin’ today?”
You could feel the anger in St. Louis. The way I dealt with it was to play the “How are you doin’ today?” game. It’s not really a game, but it’s something my wife started doing years ago that I’ve made a key part of my life. It came about when my wife noticed that fast food workers, grocery store workers and clothing store workers often greet you with “Good morning,” “Welcome to _____, how can I help you?” or “How are you today?” No one ever asks them how they’re doing today.
One day, my wife asked a worker, “How are you doing today?” Have you ever really looked some stranger in the eyes, asked them how they were and really meant it? I like to say, 85 percent of the time, something magical happens. It’s like a switch getting turned on. Their eyes get brighter, and before masks, you could see the smiles. Now I see the smile in the eyes. It makes a difference. I’ve literally seen a look of hatred, disdain or contempt turn into something completely different. Appreciation. Respect. Kindness. It’s a beautiful thing to behold.
So Lily and I would play that game all the time. It makes you feel good to brighten up someone’s day, and all you have to do is acknowledge them. Pass on a little kindness. In St. Louis in 2020, I started going out of my way to say “Hello” to people, wish them good morning, and make sure I thanked them for the things they did for me.
It made me feel good. It was like every positive response I got made me want to do it some more. It was selfish, but it was a good selfish. I wanted to be as nice as I could to people, whether or not they deserved it. I wanted to be kind. It seems like such an obvious thing to do. Why is it so easy to forget?
Wonderful people from various walks of life
It was sad that Lily’s neighbours couldn’t buy the house. Not just because it made it more difficult for us, but we would’ve liked to see their children live there.
Lily’s mother’s neighbours were kind. They were kind to Lily’s mother and father for years. They’re roughly our age. They helped Lily’s mother and father move in more than 30 years ago. They helped look after Lily’s mother when her father died. They used their own workers to mow the lawn, clean up the yard and help take out her trash. They helped Lily’s mother when she fell in the basement. They’re such good people. They helped fill the hole in the porch when it collapsed. I don’t know what we would’ve done without their kindness.
Bill and Steve
Lily’s mother went to a church nearby. Lily knew that there was a real estate agent, Bill, who went to the same church, so she reached out to him. It turns out Bill worked with a partner, Steve, who wasn’t just his business partner, but his partner in life.
I already told you how I feel about organized religion. It may be full of hypocrites, but it’s also filled with a lot of good people. We’re all biased. About everything. It’s difficult to be unbiased without a different perspective. Sometimes our perspectives seem to be handed to us through television and social media: “This is the perspective we think you should have.” We form so many opinions ahead of time, assume so many things and judge before there is anything to be judged.
I say this because when I think of gay rights and California, I form one opinion. When I think of gay rights and Missouri, I form another.
I’m biased. I thought it was so cool that two openly gay men would be accepted by a Christian church in Missouri. It never occurred to me that they’d be accepted, but it gave me such a good feeling that they were.
And then we met them. It’s no wonder they were accepted! They were helpful, personal and generous. They became our real estate agents, and when the house sold, they took a lower commission than we’d agreed upon. More on them later.
Delores
They also introduced us to another wonderful person. Delores is the building manager where Bill and Steve live. She’s a black woman in her forties who runs a side business, helping to clean out homes for people like us. She takes pictures and posts them, and then matches certain items up with families in the community that need them. She takes some items away herself, or co-ordinates with the new owners and has them pick them up.
She didn’t charge us anything. She got rid of so many things and made so many people happy. We had an extra dorm-room-style refrigerator and an electric heater. They went to a man who had no heater and no refrigerator. If not for her, we would’ve had to spend thousands of dollars getting rid of things. She treated us with such respect.
Delores had three workers who’d help her. One was her brother, who had a leg disability. The first day they came, I realized something about my father. I’ve told you that I come from a bit of a dysfunctional family. That primary dysfunction was related to my father’s drinking. He drank a lot. I’d always say that my father never taught me anything. Never had “the talk” with me. Never taught me how to fish. Never would sit me down and show me how to do things. At least not that I could remember.
But before Delores and friends came to the house the first time, I had water, Gatorade, paper towels and extra masks ready for them. When they got there, I asked them all their names. I asked them how they were, and I thanked them for coming and helping us. How did I know to do that? It was my father.
Looking back, I can remember all those times when plumbers would come over, and he’d offer them something to drink. He’d often go out and have a beer with the trash collectors. He’d joke around with the busboys, and because he spoke Spanish, he often made instant connections with people. My father would talk to anyone, anytime, anywhere. Without knowing it, he taught me how to treat people with respect.
I can’t remember how old I was when he told me this, but it has stuck with me. He said, “Don’t forget. No one is any better than you are … but you are no better than anyone else.” I’m not sure if there are many more important lessons in life than that.
When I first went back to work, I was required to take a bunch of training classes. All corporations have them. How not to harass people. How to protect information. What to do in case of an emergency in the building, etc. And if you work in a corporate environment, I’m sure you’re aware of diversity training. Its main thrust is to treat everyone with respect, but it emphasizes race, gender, sexual orientation and physical disabilities.
I don’t like a lot of the diversity efforts companies make. Sometimes they seem to segregate people more. But I came up with my own interpretation of diversity. It’s based on what my father said. Diversity to me is: No one is any better than anyone else. Anyone can learn something from anyone. Diversity, to me, has nothing to do with race, gender or any other way you want to divide people.
Naomi
Then there was Naomi. She was the lawyer we hired when we knew we were going to sell the house. She’s not our lawyer. She’s Lily’s mother Evelyn’s lawyer. But we act as Evelyn’s agent on her behalf. Naomi is white and in her thirties.
I don’t know what we would’ve done without her. She helped us take care of so many things. She was able to help us with getting Second World War veteran’s benefits for Evelyn. It took more than a year and a half. She helped us with all the paperwork, the sale of the house, everything. We were completely lucky to find her. A co-worker had a sister-in-law who practiced elder law, and she couldn’t help us with Evelyn since she was in Missouri, but she gave us a website dedicated to firms and lawyers that specialize in elder law.
People say a lot of bad things about lawyers. I used to say a lot of bad things about lawyers. But we should all be very grateful for the good, ethical lawyers out there. There were lots of people to choose from. I don’t know why I picked the firm that I did, but we got lucky. Again. Naomi was amazing.
I’ve told you about The House. The Siren. Naomi wasn’t immune to the house, either. When she came by the house to have Evelyn sign the documents for us to be her agent, Naomi fell in love with the house. She only saw the downstairs and the kitchen. We told her that the neighbours couldn’t buy the house, and that we were getting a real estate agent.
Her response was unexpected. She sent us an email stating that she wanted to be transparent and disclose that on the side, she and some partners bought and refurbished houses to sell. She was interested in buying the house. We thought that would be a wonderful thing.
The code
So Bill and Steve, our real estate agents, came over to the house to meet with Naomi. This was a very important day in my life. It was the day I came up with my code. You know, like John Wayne or whatever movie hero of the day there was. The good guys always lived by a code.
I’ve talked before about serendipitous moments. Carl Jung called it synchronicity. It was how I met Max at the food bank. I love these moments. There is something about them that makes me feel I’m going in the right direction.
Bill is about 45 years old, is 6’1″ (about 185 centimetres) and has this thick mane of hair down to just above his shoulders. It’s black with streaks of grey. Truly a thing to behold. When Naomi entered the house, Lily and I noticed that she’d cut her hair short.
It was the first time Naomi and Bill had met in person. One of the first things out of her mouth was, “You have such beautiful hair!” and they started talking. Naomi told him she’d just cut hers to donate it to people who need wigs. Bill was elated. He told her he was about another inch from cutting it off and doing the same. And then they just started talking like they’d known each other for years. Serendipity. I love it.
Lily and I just sat on the bench in the foyer and watched them talk. It was so cool to watch. When they were done, Bill and Steve showed Naomi the house. After she left, we were just sitting in the house talking. They knew about my cancer. They knew I was recovering. They knew Lily and I had been apart for 18 months. They knew about her Mom. They knew our story.
I mentioned in the first part of this piece that “I don’t tell lies no more, there’s nothing left to hide”. I tell everyone everything. Good and bad. Transparency. If I can show you my bias and you can show me yours, maybe we can understand. It’s a way to make someone walk a mile in your shoes.
And here is where I start to become the cancer survivor cliché. If I could put a smiley emoji here, I would. The four of us were just sitting in the foyer talking, and I don’t know how this came up, but I just uttered, “We believe in transparency, diversity, kindness, and… .”
Lily spoke up, “And common sense.”
I started to say, “And common sense,” but I thought, “Based on whose perspective?” Then I said, “And the sharing of knowledge.” And there it was, out of nowhere. I had a code of life. Just like John Wayne. Just like a hero. I’d come up with a fifth part to add to the code when we got back to California. I got it from my friend Mary: “Lead by example.”
We didn’t sell the house to Naomi, but that was OK. I was feeling better. I was feeling stronger. I was eating better. I was down to 175 pounds. I’d lost more than 125 pounds since I’d been diagnosed with cancer. The house was getting cleaned out and we were going to get home. And I had a code to live by. Transparency, Diversity, Kindness, Sharing of Knowledge, Lead by Example. If I could live my life that way, it would be a happy one.
All the people that helped us in Missouri embodied all of those things. Bill and Steve took a lower percentage of commission than we had agreed upon. Delores helped us get rid of so many things to people who really needed them. The neighbours mowed the lawn and looked after Lily’s mother, and Naomi helps the elderly and donates her hair.
Lily and I were so lucky. And we knew it. But we weren’t home yet. And I wasn’t a full-blown cliché yet. That happened after I fell in love with my wife. Again.
This is the fourth in a series of monthly installments about the author’s journey through illness, so check back in February for Part Six.
images: Depositphotos
