Small Gestures
I’ve heard it said that just before we die we remember special moments, not the weeks or years of our lives. When I reflect back on my own life I smile at the many examples of kindness that have come my way. The grand gestures have an impact, but what matters most to me are those small acts of compassion.
After my brother David died of a sudden heart attack fifteen years ago, I remember a friend who sat with me for an hour in total silence.
I remember my 70th birthday party organized by my adult children. All I had to do was show up.
I remember the nurse who announced that the operation was a success after my three-week-old grandson had open-heart surgery more than sixteen years ago.
After I die, you might discover that I possess several items no one will have any use for and, and those items will probably be thrown out. Two objects in particular might puzzle you: a case of Breck Shampoo, and a carton of Fuller Brush hair combs for use in the shower. These are special to me, and I will tell you why.
When I was a teenager my mother told me that I should shower every day, but only shampoo my hair once a week.
“If you shampoo your hair too often it will dry out.” My mom had a lot of caring and common sense in her, and I took her word for almost everything. So I shampooed my hair once a week.
The problem was that my hair is quite oily and hard to manage. In my twenties I discovered that I really did need to shampoo my hair every day. I used Breck Shampoo because their bottle said on the label, “For Oily Hair.” It worked well for me, but years ago the manufacturer went out of business.
My young wife Daveen made it her business, before the internet and eBay, to scour Los Angeles for enough Breck shampoo to last me a lifetime. I don’t know how many cases she bought, but I still have one or two left, and I still use Breck, even though the shampoo I find in hotel rooms seems to work just as well. I’ve moved those cases with me many times, and I suspect there will still be a few bottles of Breck left after I won’t need to use them anymore.
The Fuller Brush Story is similar. Their salesmen used to make house calls to sell their products to my mother. Think of that. House calls. One item my mom bought for me was their special pronged brush for my once-a-week shampooing. I still like to feel the tingle on my scalp and imagine that those prongs help the blood circulate beneath my scalp. That’s the secret to my success in thinking, (that I have now disclosed for the first time).
Alas, The Fuller Brush Company stopped making house calls. The prongs on their brushes snap off over time, so even when I am careful a single brush has never lasted more than six months.
Enter, again, Daveen. Somehow she located a treasure trove of those Fuller brushes, which still accompany me wherever I live.
I know this is personal, just as every life is personal. Daveen’s mother collected matchbooks wherever she traveled to remember where she had been. We each have unique thoughts and habits that end with us, never to return. Each of us is special.
So for every small gesture, each small kindness, and every act that says, “Alan, I value you and here is a little help,” I offer thanks.
And my thinning white hair still looks pretty good after I shampoo it every day.
Love,
Alan