Of service

Alan.

From Houston living in Milwaukee.

Met him on a plane. He helped me with my bag. He helped everyone within a 10 seat radius with their bag.

We started talking. About being a gentlemen. I told him about teaching my son to be a gentleman. About the many times of late when Sebastian will say very loudly, “WHY IS THAT MAN NOT GIVING YOU A SEAT MOMMA. IS HE NOT A GENTLEMAN?”

Of course. The guy Sebastian is referring to will give me a really harsh and mean look. Whoops.

Alan says something very simple. Something I remembered and forgot.

“If we are not in service, we are not living.”

My dad. I had this physical memory of being with my dad. About how he always looked for a way to help other people.. even when he was in a wheelchair and could barely move.

Be of service. Alan and I spent the entire flight helping each other. Since I sat next to him I have been more focused on being of service.

A woman getting off the plane with a baby sleeping in her car seat. She stops at the jet way and stands waiting. I ask her if she needs some help. She bites her lip.

“Well, my daughter fell asleep and I couldn’t carry her, her car seat and my bag. My bag is still on the plane.”

I offer to go get it for her. She actually starts to tear up and says, “Thank you so much.”

It took me, what, 2 minutes to be a salmon.. fight the people coming off the plane and get that bag.

Walking to the baggage claim I noticed 4 people who needed help. They were always there – I was just so focused on my handheld or maybe my destination.

I arrived at my hotel, helped a woman read her menu and built a little snowman with no gloves.

Life, really is, good.

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