3. RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS
   by Wendy McElroy 
   Special to TLE

In the global cataclysm of war and terrorism, the small actions of
individuals may seem insignificant. But in fact, they are what matter most.

My last column critiqued feminist male bashing and called for good will
toward men. It stated, "the father who worked every day to make you
safe and comfortable is not the enemy." An angry reader wrote to
accuse me of being raised in a "white, middle-class, nuclear
family." She dismissed me as coming from a privileged background that
was out of touch with harsh reality.

Her underlying assumption: anyone who argues for good will between the
sexes does so out of ignorance, not from experience. Exactly the opposite
is true. Speaking from a background of abuse, I have seen individual acts
of kindness and compassion accomplish more than political analysis or
government programs could imagine.

When I was sixteen, I ran away from home because the streets were safer
than the house in which I'd been raised. The death of my father several
years earlier had so destroyed the family that my mother was given to fits
of uncontrollable violence. After a particularly brutal incident, I grabbed
my coat, ran through the front door and did not return.

It was winter, shortly after Christmas, and there was nowhere to sleep
without risking the possibility of freezing to death. Then I found a church
with unlocked doors. That night, and for several nights thereafter, I slept
on a bench far in the back corner, waking up constantly because I was
afraid of being discovered and turned out.

One morning, I woke to find myself covered with a blanket. Someone had
discovered me. Instead of throwing me into the snow, he or she made sure I
was warm. I have never had the chance to tell the person how much that
single act of kindness has meant to my life. Whenever I am overwhelmed by
cynicism, I remember the blanket and I discover a bit more good will
somewhere within myself.

I have seen similar acts of compassion change the lives of other people.

My husband and I are ham radio operators. Each year the local hams band
together to make sure that children who cannot visit malls can still talk
to Santa. In co-ordination with parents, the hams set up portable radios at
hospitals, domestic violence shelters, etc... Each child, in turn, sits in
front of a microphone beside a ham operator who broadcasts a call to the
North Pole. An "elf" at a remote location answers, and soon Santa
is speaking directly to the child, asking about pets and homework
assignments...details that the parents have provided in advance.

We call it "SantaClausNet" and one story has been repeated many
times among our group and beyond. A few years ago three local hams were
"on duty" at our community center when a father carried in his
seven-year-old son, Jim, to talk with Santa. They sat to one side, waiting
and watching as other children took their turns.

The hams took a special interest in Jim: from the pre-interview with his
father, they knew Jim had not only been ill for some months but also that
his mother had died almost a year ago. This would be his first Christmas
without her. The report said Jim was "very shy."

When his time came, Jim sat in his father's lap and stared at the
microphone. The ham called the North Pole. An elf named Murray responded
and addressed Jim by name, but the boy said nothing. Santa asked Jim about
his pet dog; his eyes widened but he said nothing. Jim held onto his father
and kept staring mutely into the microphone. Nothing the hams did could
coax the boy to speak. When SantaNet was over and the hams packed up the
gear, they all felt a bit depressed about the boy they couldn't help.

The next day, one of the hams spread happy news. Jim's father had phoned
him in tears. When he and his son had been safely alone in the parking lot,
Jim had pulled on his father's hand and said, "Daddy, Santa Claus
talked to me." It was the second time Jim had spoken since his
mother's death.

My commitment to good will and compassion is not the result of ignorance.
It comes from a weathered appreciation of how a small kindness can
profoundly affect a person's life.

Too many people today believe that "the personal is political,"
that every human interaction should be subjected to political analysis and
processing. First and foremost, life should be personal. We all fall into
some category or other--male, middle class, black, Protestant--but first
and foremost we are human beings with a shared humanity.

One of my favorite quotes is from the anthropologist Margaret Mead, who
said: "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people
can actually change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that ever
has." Never doubt that small acts of kindness can change the world.
Even the ones you forget, like drawing a blanket over a stranger. Even the
ones you think are wasted, like failing to coax a child to speak.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
- - -
McElroy is the editor of Ifeminists.com. She also edited Freedom, Feminism,
and the State (Independent Institute, 1999) and Sexual Correctness: The
Gender Feminist Attack on Women(McFarland, 1996). She lives with her
husband in Canada.

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