A Lesson from Bananas

If any of you knew my Papa you might say that he was strong, stubborn, stoic. A real man’s man. He was fiercely protective of his family and worked hard to provide for them with everything they needed. He enjoyed life and although he was in a wheelchair for the latter part of his life, he was on the go more than anyone you ever met. Who else do you know that would go for a ride around the neighborhood in his wheelchair in the middle of an ice storm just because he refused to be cooped up in the house any longer? You might even say that he was a man that you never wanted to make angry. Take it from the girl who would burst into tears at the thought of being told on to him for misbehaving (although I never actually heard him raise his voice at me, let alone give me any real form of discipline), he was a very intimidating man.

But if you were to ask me what the single most descriptive term I could think of for my Papa would be, I would say that he was kind. This headstrong, stubborn manly man is the key to my very first memories of learning what it means to show kindness to others.

Growing up everyone knew that my Papa adored his granddaughters. People tell me all the time about how they remember him riding around the neighborhood showing my sister and I off tucked securely in his newspaper bag on his lap. And seeing as how he was friends with all of our neighbors, we made plenty of stops along our route. It seemed as though my Papa never met a stranger.

One of my fondest memories of my Papa was when I would go to the nursing home with him to visit either my great grandma or grandpa. It’s common knowledge that for many people a nursing home can be a sad and lonely place. Often times, people are dropped off and are visited seldomly by family members. My Papa was not this type of family member. He visited every single day, rain or shine. However, he didn’t just visit his own family. The man knew just about everyone in that nursing home by name. It would take us forever to make it to our family member’s room just because he had to stop and talk to people. My favorite stop to take with my Papa was to Mr. Roger’s room. I never saw any of Mr. Roger’s family come visit. He would usually just be sitting in his chair looking out the window. Every time we would stop in his room my Papa would sit and chat with him for a while and before we would leave, he would reach into his bag and pull out a couple of bananas and hand them to Mr. Roger. They were his favorite.

This is the first distinct act of kindness I can remember. It was the first time I had seen someone go out of his way to show love to another. This story may seem trivial to you, but it has paved the way for knowing what kind of person I would like to be.

It’s what got me here.