By Edward A. Forbes
I was on my way home from visiting my son, a daunting 1.5-mile journey, when I saw a woman on a zero-turn lawn mower stuck half-way up the curb while attempting to mow the median at the entrance of a subdivision.
I pulled over to see if I could assist. She told me that she had gotten lazy and didn’t take the boards off her mower and place them in front of the curb to gain access to the median. This is how she got stuck.
I lifted the front of the mower but couldn’t push it back. I told her she needed to put it in reverse or neutral, so it would roll back, and that didn’t work.
Two other gentlemen had been at the intersection, and they pulled up behind me and offered their more able-bodied assistance. We finally had her start the mower (blades NOT turning, please), and lifted the front and the deck. She had evidently put the mower in reverse, because it moved off rather rapidly. She thanked us, and we loaded into our individual vehicles and drove off.
The purpose of this small tale is not about my helping the lady but rather about us helping the lady.
I don’t know how many times I’ve seen people stopping whatever they are doing to help someone in need. Small towns still turn out to benefit people in need.
It seems to me that those with the least are the first to respond when a person asks for help. They understand what it means to be over-your-head in trouble needing assistance with day-to-day expenses and those medical bills.
It’s not hard to find stories about shootings, car-jackings, robberies, and other forms of mayhem. Social media’s only redeeming quality is that mixed in with all the trolls and bad people with bad attitudes are all the stories of people looking for help, thanking people for offering help and unsolicited stories of people anonymously helping others in need. Many of the stories we see are about these things happening in our galaxy of small towns.
The next time you complain about your town not having a Chick-fil-A or HEB Superstore, think about your neighbor who picks up your trash can from the street, who loaned you his weed-eater because yours was broken, or the neighbor who gave you a jump start when your car battery was dead.
Small-town neighbors are the best. They don’t have to know you, but they might, and your parents, too. They will offer aid because they feel it’s the right thing to do.
(Email Edward at firstname.lastname@example.org or send comments by mail to The Bulletin, PO Box 2426, Angleton TX. 77516.)