Kindness doesn't shout, it gets on with the job |
She's a force of nature, this one. She's 83 and if those legs don't allow her to move as quickly as they once did, she's lost none of her ability to command a battalion of troops on a mission months in the planning.
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Cecelia is cooking for 90 guests today. It's her annual fundraiser for the children's hospital and the three-course Italian feast in the clubroom of her retirement village has been produced with her own hands and organised with an astonishing force of will.
She's barking orders at underlings who, younger than her, are already sweating. You wonder what she must have been like in her prime. A born general. Probably hatched an early escape from the womb to take charge.
It's Sunday. The outside world is consumed with conflict and cruelty. But in a hot kitchen kindness is going about its usual unsung work. Lasagna trays cram the oven. Pots of rich sauce simmer on the stove. Grandchildren have been commandeered as servers and waiters. Daughters have been instructed to play songs in strict order - waltzes, serenades and, of course, a little Elvis. Fellow residents obediently shuffle chairs and decorate tables.
It's 40 bucks a head and Cecelia will raise almost $4000. Watching her marshalling her troops reminds you that genuine kindness never feels the need to announce itself to the world. It doesn't seek headlines or viral attention on social media. It just gets on with the job.
Must be the weekend for it. The day before Cecelia's feast, another elderly woman relates a further act of kindness.
Emma is 86, the mother of my oldest friend. Like Cecelia she's also an Italian immigrant. Her world is a blur of pain, her legs and hips betraying her. She grimaces when she sits, winces when she stands. Some days the pain is in places even the morphine can't reach.
But the welling in her eyes is prompted by something else - the memory of a random act of kindness decades earlier that Emma has never forgotten.
She and her husband Guido were new to Australia in the early 1960s. Their English was as broken as their bank account. Emma needed an operation and with no family support and few friends, Guido took unpaid leave from work to look after their two small babies during his wife's hospital stay.
A nurse caring for her grew concerned about her lack of visitors. Emma explained they could not afford a car and it was impossible for her........