Neighborhood walks will suffice, but usually the car ride, on the blanketed back seat, is part of the excursion—anxious on the way out, napping on the way back—as we head to one of a number of great forested trails in Greensboro. Yesterday was no exception and we found ourselves emersed in the winter serenity of Price park.
We had the place nearly to ourselves. We passed a man with two friendly dogs as we started—he on the phone. It might have been him, but he seemed worlds away. It doesn't matter who did it, really.
Hiking up a rooted slope, head down, watching each footfall, I nearly missed it. As we approached a small clearing, I saw something out of place: man-made shapes of color hanging low from a tree trunk.
A bell with decoration.
And a note. "You have found a Ben's Bell," it said. "Take it home and remember to spread kindness throughout the world." No sales pitch. No religion. No politics. Just a simple kindness.
"Thank you, Ben." I said aloud.
It turns out Ben was a little boy who died. His mother started making these bells in his memory and hanging them around Tuscon. I'm not sure how one came to be in Greensboro—I don't think I want to know. The anonymity and mystery give the gift its power, but thank you, whoever hung that bell. I did take it home. I will hang it up. I will remember to spread kindness throughout the world.
This quotation was on the note:
"Remember, there's no such thing as a small act of kindness. Every act creates a ripple with no logical end."
— Scott Adams