Deeds Done Dirt Cheap : Stories of Everyday Generosity
The Mystery Knitter is legendary for their generosity, leaving handmade treasures on the doorsteps of local businesses in Story City, Iowa.
Photo credit: The Ames Tribune.
A Facebook friend today posted that she and her husband were celebrating a chilly Valentine’s Day here in Iowa.
I am typing this on Valentine’s Day, and the current temperature in Ames is -8.
I find all understated Midwestern-isms to be hilarious. For example, if I ask husband Aaron how he is, I can reliably expect to receive versions of “fine.” To us Southerners, fluent in hyperbole and intensity, “fine” is the mark of death. Fine = disaster or dull.
To an Iowan, or at least to the one I’m married to, “pretty good” means outstanding, fine is “terrific”, and “okay” means pretty dire straits. (Aaron’s worst descriptive is “peachy, “ translation = I want to kill someone immediately.)
Fortunately, in the 13 years I’ve lived in the Midwest, I learned that generosity is not understated, not in action anyway. Although Midwesterners definitely have a “it’s no big deal” attitude right after they’ve done something truly kind or generous or thoughtful.
I was reflecting upon this while driving down to Des Moines on Friday afternoon. Friday was COLD. I was spacey, which isn’t overly unusual. I had gotten gas, and was stopped at a light, headed toward the highway. I looked up to see a man running down the shoulder towards my car – no coat, just a hoodie and a fluorescent green reflector safety vest. (Friday was COLD, did I mention that?) He stopped at my car, screwed the gas cap on the tank, closed the tank lid, and ran back to his car. 45 seconds. The light changed. I cheered the guy. The lady in the car behind me was smiling and laughing. 45 seconds of kindness. “No big deal.”
In 2019, I broke my ankle. Three sets of friends and family members (two from out-of-town) dropped off really lovely food for us. Glorious.
Over the last 18 months, I’ve had folks reach out to me with similar stories of kindness, uplifting articles, or people I should know about. Or I’ve witnessed generosity, like the guy in the vest. Or husband Aaron, who once stood, in the early morning bitter cold, scraping ice off my parents’ rental car in the parking lot of their hotel because he knew they didn’t have a scraper. The only reason any of us knew this is because my folks saw him from the window of their hotel room. “No big deal.”
Take hope, fellow humans. stories of generosity.
A friend from New York Mills, Minnesota, relayed a 2019 story about her college-age grandson who suffers from a rare and aggressive kidney disease and was in need of an immediate kidney transplant two weeks after he began working as a pharmacy tech at Thrifty White Pharmacy in Morris, Minnesota (pop. 5334). “So he was missing a lot of work because he had to go to doctors appointments, and sometimes just didn’t feel well, and [the pharmacy] knew that, coming up, he would be missing work for weeks, once he had his transplant. Having only worked there for two weeks, it certainly would have been…[understandable] that they would have said, ‘well, we really need somebody full time. Sorry.’ But they kept his job open for him. He is back at work full-time…he was basically not working for almost two whole months, and they kept him. After two weeks of knowing him. I think that’s amazing.”
The colleague who delivered homemade biscotti to sever al of us before a Monday morning Zoom meeting.
The friend who drops off May Baskets to her people’s doorsteps every May Day.
The anonymous knitter who leaves handmade treasures on the doorsteps of local businesses in Story City, Iowa.
The town of Elma, Iowa (pop. 546) that delivered Christmas cookies to every home in their community during the holidays.
“Mutual Aid efforts to keep the homeless camps supplied with propane for heat and/or in warm hotel rooms when it has been so dangerously cold. SweetTooth community fridge. Also, my neighbor helped clear my driveway when it last dumped over a foot of snow here.”
“A friend of mine who had COVID has donated plasma 13 times. So much that she depleted her antibodies and got COVID a second time, but I'm sure she'll continue donating plasma because that is how generous and kind she is.”
“I met a person who was a really good listener. A stranger. Shout out to that stranger. It was magical. Being a good listener is an extremely rare talent. They were engaged. Eye contact. You could tell they didn’t have a prepared answer until I finished speaking. They asked multiple follow up questions to make sure they understood what I was saying. The questions were challenging to make me understand what I was saying too. They didn’t tell me what to do, they just gave me something to think about. And they were patient. They said things like “ Well if A=B and B=C then does your A=C?” I just made me think and helped me think through what I was saying or believed.”
“Someone at church used her stimulus check to buy groceries for single moms in our church, because she said “I don’t really need the extra money. I want to help people.”
“Someone mailed this calendar to me. It has an affirmation every day for the whole year. I don't know who did it! I am still overwhelmed with the kindness of it!”
Mystery calendar left on a friend’s doorstep.
If it’s no big deal, why do these little moments matter so much?
Because they connect us.
According to the Iowa Small Town Study, the most significant indicator of high quality of life in small towns is high social capital. In normal, non-academic speak, it’s that feeling of belonging, that your presence matters, that you contribute to the rest of the community.
I want to hear from you. What acts of random generosity have you experienced or witnessed?