Sometimes witnessing a good deed leaves a lasting impression.

Donna remembers a day in California when she was eleven-years-old, and her parents took their six children for a special day at the beach. Donna’s mother brought a picnic lunch — fried chicken and her famous potato salad — and prepared a plate for each of them.

“When I looked up from my plate, my mother was fixing one more plate… She turned away from us and walked over maybe 20 or 30 feet to where there was a man by himself. And he was picking his way through the trashcan. And my mother — I don’t know whether she just put the plate there or whether she touched him gently or whether she said a few words — but I remember him turning to her in a gesture of thankfulness.”

Donna’s mother came back and sat down at the table.

Years later, Donna asked her mother if she remembered the incident.

“She laughed and said, ‘Not at all.’ But for me, I remember it very well because for me, it was the touchstone for what good deeds became in my life.”

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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