I planned this Tuesday around the 10 am. funeral service for my boss, mentor, advisor and friend Tom Donohue, the recently deceased long-time president of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce. I even prepared something to say if there was an opportunity; I owe this man more than I can express and he was very important in my life.
The venue was St, Matthew’s, a wonderful church in downtown D.C. I moved all of my appointments and work to other days, as I expected to be a basket case after the service and reception. Got up early, which is hard because I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since Grace died, got all dressed up, shaved my head (which I hate and which takes forever) and braved the morning rush hour traffic, planning on arriving early because I always get lost, pretty much when I drive anywhere I have never been before.
I arrived about 15 minutes early, and found the place empty. As the whale thinks in “A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” finding himself plummeting to earth after being suddenly transformed from his previous existence as a planet-destroying missile, “Not again!” This kind of thing—arriving at a meeting, event, appointment or social engagement and finding nobody there or that it was something completely different than I expected—has happened to me eight times this year. The score is 6 times when it was not my fault (once when the person responsible should spend eternity on her head in a lake of acid), and twice when I have no one to blame but myself. This was one of those, but it took a while to figure it out.
I couldn’t find a schedule or anyone in charge. Finally I begged a tourist I saw taking pictures to use her cell phone (I left mine in the car) to check the notice on line. Sure enough, I had misread it…THREE TIMES. I was week early. (That’s preferable, a friend told me later, than going to an important event a week late. But I’ve done that, too…)
I am a moron.
I was showing my distress to the woman (I wanted to punch myself in the face), and she asked if I wanted to have a cup of coffee. I said, “Sure, what the hell”..I had lots of time to kill and otherwise I’d just be reveling in self-loathing. As we walked to a coffee shop, she told me she was a tourist from Toronto, in D.C. for the first time, and touring alone without a car. She said she almost didn’t come here because she was so frightened about what violent MAGA supporters might do. She really said that. See? The Axis’s “Trump is evil and so is anyone voting for him” is even causing mental illness in Canada.
I’m guessing she was in her sixties. She was also born in Austria, and said that her family had too many problems with Nazis for her to be able to bear visiting the Holocaust Museum.
So I bought her a cup of tea and a muffin. She told me she had to check out of one hotel nearby before noon, and check into another in Arlington, very near to where I live. I said, “Heck, that hotel is on my way home. I’ll get my car out of the garage, pick you up at your current hotel, and get you to the next one.”
Are all American this nice to strangers, she asked? No, I explained, and I might not be myself except that I’m an ethicist and being a role model is part of my job.
I did pick her up, load her luggage, and find her new hotel (despite Google Maps sending me in circles, twice)—except her room wasn’t going to be ready until 3 and they were going to charge her $30 for an early check-in. (When did hotels start doing that?) It was just noon, there was nothing near this hotel worth seeing, so I told her I would drop her in an area not far away with lots of local color, shops and restaurants where she could have a good lunch while I got back to my miserable, solitary existence. I also told her to call me when it was check-in time and I’d pick her up and take her back to the hotel.
If I was going to give her a story about how nice Americans are, I might as well go all the way. (“Right?” as Kamala would say.)
All of which I did. I picked her up and dropped her off at her hotel. When we arrived, she yelled at me for not coming around and opening the car door for her. I’m not kidding. She was very, very strange.
Nevertheless, I gave her my cell phone number in case she got in any trouble.
Later, I learned that she had been attacked and disemboweled by a rampaging Trump mob that mistook her for an illegal immigrant.
OK, I made up that part. But the rest is true.
Ethics Alarms 
I would have countered the “violent MAGA supporters” comment with a shrug, a chuckle, and something like, “You’re more likely to stumble across an aurochs than a violent MAGA supporter in these parts, ma’am.”
As someone who believes that God orchestrates our steps, I’m convinced you confused the funeral date, not because you’re a moron, but rather because Someone wanted you to spend a day showing some American hospitality and good-will to a Canadian woman, deceived by what she’s heard on whatever news sources she trusts.
You did an exceptional job as a human, an American, and as the representative of those who frequent this site…mission accomplished!!
I was thinking the same thing. Probably didn’t hurt our favorite ethicist to get some fresh air as well.
That was my thought, too. Sometimes, opportunities are arranged for us without our knowledge.
“Later, I learned that she had been attacked and disemboweled by a rampaging Trump mob that mistook her for an illegal immigrant.”
I had to clean coffee off my phone before replying to this one!
I could regale you for hours with stories about all the strange, weird and sometimes amazing people I met during efforts to be helpful to random individuals. Some if these were in the course of my law enforcement duties, but more than half, I reckon, were on my own time when I was just trying to be of service to my fellow man. Oftentimes it started with someone who was lost, but simple verbal directions weren’t getting the job done, so I ended up taking or leading the person to their intended destination. Almost always, their reaction to being helped was one of surprise and delight. As for the others, we’ll, people are people.
Your story brought back a number of pleasant recollections, and for that I thank you!
My favorite part of the story: “When we arrived, she yelled at me for not coming around and opening the car door for her. I’m not kidding. She was very, very strange.”
With apologies to Jim Morrison, people are strange, something I think I’ve only come to realize recently.
So much for the Canadian Nice trope.
Jack, you are not a moron, of course. But yeah, so you erred, and embarrassed yourself before yourself (yourself’s toughest critic). Totally understandable. But wow did you extend extended kindness to this complete stranger. Which is itself, eo ipso, wonderful. Like other commenters, I am struck by her apparent ingratitude, bordering on rudeness. She yelled at you? I mean ”wtf” as people younger than we are might say, and as I’ll say here. You handled yourself elegantly. I enjoyed reading this, and learned from it. Your use of music and films is wondrous too.
Thanks, Steve. I appreciate your mentioning my obsession with finding popular culture parallels to daily life and current events. As the culture has been more fractured, I often feel that I am speaking in tongues, especially with younger lawyers. “Cultural Literacy” was spot on, in my view; I just wish it were easier to stay current. If I could quote Taylor Swift, I would.
Next time a Canadian woman yells at you about opening the car door, you can tell her “Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I shake it off, I shake it off.”
Depending on your sense of the woman, the “baby” at the beginning could be considered optional.
I actually dreamt last night that I was sitting near Taylor Swift on a train or plane, but was too embarrassed to ask her for an autograph, later much to my older daughter’s disappointment (she is a Swiftie to the max). Anyway, your post reminds me of an interesting distinction made by the Israeli philosopher Avishai Margalit in his 2005 book The Ethics of Memory. “Morality,” he posits, is that set of duties we owe to complete strangers, those we’ll likely never meet, e.g. those who live in Indonesia, the unborn everywhere (posterity)—merely because we are fellow humans on this planet. It is thin on memory but extensive in geography. By contrast, “ethics” is short on geography, but thick on memory: it is that set of duties we owe to those whom we have a pre-existing relationship. Family, colleagues, employers, clients, customers, constituents, neighbors, etc.https://www.amazon.com/Ethics-Memory-Avishai-Margalit/dp/0674013786/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1XNSXI1AT3285&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.UJdcuq9OETdX7HeZiYFgxGfSJBCFDNdhyLW3jzZGHlNih2Ccq6V6bQsIRVjJNdXVWXfsQahly_I8iWUrd6dDJajdxiDKGDTMWgTvNocGQykS2-d2XEQftActXESMfjqwBz8DLSsEYsKsmnQT1IKCtV5rD9Lvm3TiwJ7UBOQTNfbeiLVqf1MPYaMAkH3gfnq-F0Oddi0InK3N57eZZbP1FXHqgS5Y6ZZ4xXrMCS6CiIA.YFbAdjmWrD0VI61OkN9RofxwXlO0lalF3eqEZ6kue8I&dib_tag=se&keywords=the+ethics+of+memory&qid=1729861040&sprefix=The+ethics+of+memory%2Caps%2C113&sr=8-1
They’re complimentary sets of duties, with a bit of overlap. You combined these in your post, Jack.
Terrific perspective, Steve. Thanks.
In our heart of hearts, this story reinforces the feeling we occasionally have, wishing we could be more like Jack.
What a wonderful story. Your folks would be proud.