My big dream after college was to drive to California. Unlike so many of my friends that had aspirations to go to Europe or get some big corporate job, I just wanted to drive to California. *cue California by Phantom Planet* 

Looking back on this big plan, I really didn’t think about the details like how many states were between Pennsylvania (where I went to college) and California. I just imagined the ocean. The beach. The people. I still remember my first business trip to California, San Diego specifically. I thought I had made it. I still remember calling my best friend from college. “I put my feet in the Pacific Ocean today,” I exclaimed as soon as she answered the phone. “I did it!”

Now that I made the drive to California in my van, I have some mixed feelings about my dream destination. The gas prices, for one thing. All of the states that touch this state are a full dollar cheaper. That adds up when you’re filling a tank as big as the one in the van. The pollen is worse than in the South. Definitely wasn’t expecting that one. Oh, and the drivers? Y’all. Why are you flying past me when I’m already going 15 over? Why are you driving 50 mph in the parking lot? 

With all that said (only half in jest), I also have met some of the most kind, considerate strangers I’ve interacted with in California. Maybe they are what I dreamt of seeing – a world of misfits in beautiful weather, bonding together to make life feel a little more likable. People willing to do the little things. 

I saw the kindness of this community firsthand in a laundromat. Laundry was our last stop of the day. After pulling our first load from the dryer, I set up at an empty section among a row of rectangle tables to begin folding. The pop radio station played Miley Cyrus while we all steadily, silently processed our clothing. A tall man with long hair, tan skin, and dirty nails walked in with a giant black trash bag filled with laundry and a grocery bag filled with coins. 

He proceeded to place the garbage bag on the end of the table and empty out the coins. One by one, he put each of his pennies, nickels, and dimes into stacks. Then, he announced to everyone and no one in particular, “does anyone have a dollar?” 

Every single person at a table around him reached into their pockets to give that man a dollar. No one looked down or away. No one ignored him. Everyone did the little thing of offering a dollar. I’ve never seen that kind of generosity across more than one person in a room, let alone every single person. The more I see shocked looks from the people I tell indicates to me this was just as miraculous as the feeling I had in that moment. 

I’ve sat in rooms full of people in gaudy gowns writing checks for $10,000 or more to some charity, but I wonder if those people would give a dollar to a man who simply wants to wash his clothes. Why not? Is it because there’s no special celebration for helping other humans? No bidding war for generosity? Is it because there’s no tax write off for a gesture of kindness? 

What would the world be like if more people gave out grace and a dollar when someone needed it? How would the world be different if we all did little things, if we believed all the little things can really add up? Maybe not different for some tax write-off, but most surely in the way someone else gets to experience their life – even if it’s just for the day. 

As we continue our drive and check this bucket list experience of driving from the bottom to the top of California off our list, I can only hope this state really is full of people who believe in doing the small thing when they can. 

Now about that guy who politely placed his hatchet outside Taco Bell? That’s a story for another letter. 

Weekly Letters little things