We were driving down to London for a Very Important Reason – the imminent birth of a grandchild. It was before 6am and someone on the radio was wittering on about smiling at strangers and making their day. Little random acts of kindness that any of us might do to make the world a slightly less confrontational and happier place. As a native Londoner (and there are not a lot of those to the pound), I understand that if you smile at a stranger they are liable to avert their gaze. If you issue a cheery "good morning" they will cross the road because you are clearly the loony on the bus that it is unwise to sit next to. But I was feeling optimistic – a new baby is a wondrous thing and despite the fact that the country is possibly going to hell in a handcart, what do I have to lose by smiling at strangers?
My 2 year old granddaughter provided the first lesson. Having arrived to take over childcare duties whilst her mum and dad got on with more important things, we trotted off to the local library for Rhymes and Stories. On the way we passed a homeless man on a bench. "Hello, Peter" Issa gaily called. The man gave her a wonderful smile and answered " Hello, Beautiful!" We passed him again on the way back to lunch and again they greeted each other like friends – with a smile and hello. That evening we passed him again, sitting on the church steps with his tartan shopping trolley of worldly possession ready to bed down for the night. " Goodnight" Issa carolled. " Goodnight , Princess" he replied, with a broad smile.
It made me stop and think. What does that little exchange, which apparently is a near daily occurrence, mean to Peter? I have no idea of his back-story. He is about 60, rarely moves from his bench, is never obviously intoxicated, smokes endless roll ups, is clean and although mainly toothless makes an effort with his appearance. How he came to be homeless is unknown to me, but I could see a genuine relationship between him and my little granddaughter. She does not judge, she does not fear, she accepts that a man called Peter says hello and smiles at her every time that she walks past. He could be a High Court Judge, he could be an ex-con – it makes not a scrap of difference to her. They acknowledge each other and are happy to see each other. I suspect that it means a great deal to Peter that a little girl accepts him, despite his position at the very bottom of the heap. Obviously, at some point she will need some gentle guidance in staying safe around strangers, but not yet. Whilst she is protected by her grown-ups, she can offer this smile and heartfelt greeting and perhaps make a difference to another human's life.
Following her example I am smiling and saying hello to people like the loony people avoid on the bus. Some smile back, some look a little perplexed and a few cross the road.
Later that day, Issa got to say "hello" to her brand new baby brother. It was through a door because the Powers that Be had decreed that no child is allowed on to the maternity ward and no baby is allowed out of the maternity ward. Fear of abduction apparently. The met each other through a small pane of glass and Issa whispered "hello, Baby Brother". My heart felt for her because she was no danger to him but she was treated as if she was. That is a very sad reflection on our society. Who makes these rules and would any of them ever think to greet Peter, despite whatever mistakes he may have made in the past?
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