So I was picking up some items with my son Jason yesterday at Home Depot. And the cashier—who no doubt, had been standing there every day for days and days, making contact with hundreds of people when she could have been at home hiding away like the rest of us—the cashier saw that we had some fence material on our cart and said to my son, “Good fences make good neighbors. Do you know who said that? I’ll give you a hint, it was a president.”
She reminded me of a veteran waitress at an old classic diner. The kind that calls you Honey as she pours your coffee. Jason paused to consider her impromptu pop quiz but her zeal got the best of her and, not content to wait a moment more she said, “It was Teddy Roosevelt.” And a great satisfied smile washed across her face for having connected to this relevant thought in the midst of this difficult time, and then sharing it with this young man. One of hundreds she would see that day.
I stood back and watched, and as a little fact check alarm went off somewhere in my head I thought to myself, “No, it wasn’t Teddy Roosevelt. It was Robert Frost in his famous poem The Mending Wall. And the meaning of the line is not about building fences between us. It’s about tearing them down.”
But I said nothing and just smiled and let her have the moment, uninterrupted by the fact police. I said nothing because … well … it just wasn’t that important, and also because I believe now is one of those times when it’s important to let people have their moment. To give each other space, not just physically but emotionally.
You see the truth is, even though her sourcing was incorrect, and her application was incorrect, she was at that very moment the living embodiment of it’s true meaning. By smiling at us and interacting with us, she was tearing down fences. She was, as much as scanning our purchases would allow, reaching over the barrier and making a connection. And so, that brief encounter, that sacred moment of misplaced scholarship, was in fact a direct hit of humanity.
I’m not suggesting truth doesn’t matter. The truth matters a great deal. All I’m suggesting is sometimes, perhaps more often than not, when human beings are involved the truth is more than just the facts.
I don’t know the name of the cashier at Home Depot. I confess I was too preoccupied with my own agendas to take notice. I should have taken note. My sister would have noticed, and called her by name. My wife would have thanked her for working on our behalf. (Side note: every day I keep trying to be as decent as the women in my life).
So I have no idea why she is putting herself at risk every. I don’t know if it’s because she can’t afford to not work or because she just wants to help. And I also have no idea what’s taking place in the background of her life, behind her smile, but the whole encounter brought to mind a quote of my own.
Don’t worry, even though this quote is often mistakenly attributed to Plato I have properly sourced it to the good Reverend John Watson, and it goes like this, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting an epic battle.”
It’s a strange time right now. We’re all fighting an epic battle. Some of us are fighting to stay encouraged. Some are fighting to stay fed. Some are fighting for their very lives. And the facts matter, but they aren’t all that matters. Be kind, for everyone you meet today is fighting an epic battle. Help them fight it, and continue to build yourself a beautiful life.
