September 3, 2014 by Beth Hess
Among the items Grandpa Zimmerman left behind is a folder labeled “Published” … various Letters to the Editor he contributed over the years, and a few drafts of submissions that never made the cut.
I am honored to have him posthumously guest post in this space. He would have LOVED the idea of reaching people around the world with his words via a blog.
It may be the tint of our eyeglasses. But let me tell you what I saw yesterday. Topeka shone with a glory perhaps reserved for the blessed.
The handicapped parking space was in abundant shade, thanks to planners who left the trees and the compassionate ones who allow less able people access. Construction workers were busy at their task of expanding the library building, thanks to taxpayers and donors who have a vision for the 21st century.
Two girls were carrying an ingeniously designed bundle of books which, I presume, will give them hours of joy and learning. Inside, I went to the children’s section searching for a resource to refresh a childhood memory. A person, a mother, I think, quieted the demands of a young fellow and offered me the book from the shelf.
As I moved out to the lobby, I saw children using the batter of computers marked “gift of Rotary.” The pictures on the monitors were beautiful.
At the desk, a busy young man honored the card that I’ve learned not the use in the automatic machine. He also allowed me to cancel a request for an item that was to be mailed to me.
Off to the grocery store. The shopping list was almost filled — three items left. Suddenly a pain in my chest warned me to take a “nitro” and sit. I found a chair in the little office and move it out into the aisle. It was not long before a woman asked me if I was tired of shopping.
“No,” I said. “I’m waiting for you to push my cart to the cash register, use my credit card, and get the cart ready to be unloaded at the drive-in.”
She did more than that. She took the list, found the missing items, and made certain that I was not in danger. She then alerted the sacker to take care of things. When I offered a small tip, she said, “I’ll get some candy for my children.”
The beauty of helpfulness made glorious by the loveliness of motherhood.
It may have been my glasses.
I hope that I can wear them all the time.
-Donald W. Zimmerman, Topeka, published July 2000
Linking up with #ThreeWordWednesday friends. Link on the photo below to read more.