Ever since 2016 and the political “take-over” by you-know-who, complaining and nastiness have dominated our lives. Between deranged individuals splattering blood indiscriminately in random gatherings before committing suicide as their grand finale, and police shooting innocent victims because, what the heck, those guys might be dangerous, even if running away, and children being ripped from their parents and sent to who knows where (how many are still separated from their parents?), and hate crimes flowering like dandelions on a windy day, and an out-of control gang of biased amateurs running the government, insulting everyone and scheming on how to rule the world by retreating behind walled borders…oh, my god, I’m only getting started.

A “good” social event these days is one that steers clear of all that, perhaps limiting discussion to a movie or TV series, that is if the actors have not been dumped by the #metoo movement or some other scandal. Well, scandals at least are a reliable pastime. Long live sketchy gossip!

But, wait. A glimmer of hope, a ray of sanity. The House strayed into the wilderness to restore a two-party system, and red blood is beginning to show blue. So, with an improved mood, my mind turns to moments of niceties sprinkled throughout my life.

Bumped up

There was the time that I was standing in line waiting to check in for a flight in France. For some reason the line was in gridlock and not moving. I hardly noticed time slipping by since I was deep in some discussion with my colleague Joe. Finally, I arrived at the head of the line and politely said to the agent, “Hi!” Usually I’m impatient, but not this one time.

“Mr. Piatigorsky?” she said, looking at my ticket.

That was the simplest question I was ever asked. “Yes,” I said.

“You’ve been so patient. Thank you. I’m bumping you up to first class.”

Wow! Do I need to say more? A nicety.

Another time, flying in economy class and crunched in a window seat feeling (apparently looking miserable) the flight attendant motioned for me to come with her.

“You’re looking so uncomfortable,” she said. She took me to the first-class section and pointed to an empty seat. “Please sit here.”

I did. Thank you. Nicety number two.

Staying dry

I was at a science symposium in Kyoto, Japan. When walking to the conference from my hotel it started to rain and I was getting wetter and wetter. The rain suddenly stopped while I was waiting at a red light to cross the street. I looked up and saw an open umbrella above my head. A Japanese man dressed in a business suit, his arm stretched in my direction, was holding his umbrella over me, getting wet himself.

“Thank you,” I said, very surprised and grateful. He remained expressionless looking straight ahead.

When the light turned green, he turned to me, bowed and walked the other direction.

That, to me, registered as a nicety in spades, which I never forgot.

More than asked for

In Japan again, Lona and I were searching for a restaurant in the outskirts of Kyoto where we were going to meet some friends. It was dusk, the street names were in Japanese and there were no visible numbers on the houses. We were lost and going in circles. The few people we asked for directions spoke only Japanese. Finally, we met a local Japanese man who understood some English. We showed him the address of the restaurant, which was written on a piece of paper. He nodded and said, “Follow me.”

We did, for some distance and a number of twists and turns. When we arrived, he bowed (we were getting used to that) and walked away. I have no idea how far he went out of his way, but this was another notch of my stick of collected niceties.

Honest to the quick 

In the late afternoon in New York, Lona and I, tired and rushed, jumped in a cab to go from the Metropolitan Museum to Penn Station to catch the Amtrak train back to Washington. When we arrived at Penn Station, we grabbed our suitcases and dashed off as the cab drove away.

After the cab disappeared, Lona exclaimed, “Oh my gosh (I think she actually said shit, I forgot my purse in the cab!”

We went to a policeman in the train station. As futile as it seemed, Lona asked him for suggestions for retrieving her purse. We didn’t know the cab company, the license plate, the cab number. All we knew was that the driver was Asian.

“This is New York, lady. Are you kidding?”

So much for Lona’s purse, cell phone, wallet with some cash (I don’t know how much) and, sadly, a special necklace I had made for her with a pendent comprising a beach stone I picked up in Antarctica. Now it was my turn to say shit.

Back home, we were eating dinner, depressed by our loss, when the phone rang.

“Hello,” I said.

“Were you in a cab in New York today?” he asked in broken English.

“YES!” I answered.

He was a cautious man, so he asked, “Where was I driving you?”

“From the Met to Penn Station,” I said.

“I have your purse.”

“How did you know to contact us?”

“The number was on the cell phone,” he said.

Amazing! He agreed to take it to someone we knew in New York, who would mail it back to us, which he did. We received the purse a couple of days later. Nothing was gone – not a penny – including the necklace. We gave him a generous reward.

I guess the policeman was right in a way: it was New York, but the nice side. I concluded that most people are honest and the world can be a happy, reassuring place, even if it’s not Thanksgiving.

I love the niceties in life. They do happen. Let’s perpetuate those and let the rest flow by.