Regal Woman Print E-mail
She was nearly six feet tall.  On another woman - on such a weekday
afternoon - the dress, the matching purse, the formal hat and the black
shoes would have seemed insincere.  On regal woman, such fine trappings
were comfortably at home.

She was clearly a regular customer.

And I am clearly an eavesdropper. The storeowner knew why she was there.  After some small talk, he
presented her order from under the counter.  Regal woman inspected the
shoes carefully before returning them to their box.  Explaining that she
had been to her bank earlier only to discover that it had closed its
doors, she asked if she could pay for the shoes later.  The storeowner
agreed.

And regal woman left.

Normally, I keep to myself.  But not on this day.

The storeowner explained that regal woman had been a customer when his
father operated as a clothier.  And the store had not been a clothier's
for decades.  And the store next door had not been a bank for decades.

But regal woman forgets.

So every month, regal woman orders her shoes.  Every month regal woman
discovers that her bank has closed.  Every month regal woman asks if she
can pay for the shoes later.  And every month the storeowner agrees.

You see, regal woman's city has changed without her knowledge.  Her only
modern option for shoes involves highway travel.  And so it is that
for decades, the storeowner has protected regal woman's safety; that for
decades, the storeowner has protected regal woman's dignity.

We've all played the game.  "If I were president (if I had enough money,
if I had the time, if I were younger), I would make such a difference."
But such thinking scarcely veils the self-deception, paralysis and
irresponsibility which it perpetuates.

You see, the world is made new through small, everyday extensions of kindness.   Don't make the rest of us wait for your inauguration.
 
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