Issue 29 - Generosity
MAY 2021
When I moved away to university, my brother gave me a hand-written piece of lined paper, scrawled with words of advice for fresher’s week. Though we’re close, it is the only time I can remember him doing anything of the kind, we’re not really a note writing family. Predictably, I lost it almost immediately, amongst boxes of beloved Gavin and Stacey DVDs and the new duvet from Tesco that was crammed into the boot of the car.
But one line remains with me - be generous. Specifically, he said, if you want to be someone’s friend, buy them a pint when you meet them. They’ll remember it.
Fifteen years on, and I have realised that to be generous, (not just when it comes to pints, though it’s a good place to start) is hands down one of the most attractive traits a person can possess. I am not talking of flashy gestures, or expressions of wealth (though, admittedly, sometimes these can be very nice) - no, I am talking of thoughtful, kind, sometimes even princely acts that stay with you.
I am so lucky to be surrounded by plenty of generous people. Who share what they have, whatever it is, in abundance, making everyday life more enjoyable/ bearable, depending on the day of the week.
One friend, admittedly a stellar cook, always brings a jar of some outstanding sauce or pickle, dried herb or spice, whenever I see her. There is rarely a reason or occasion. A tiny glass box of saffron, some salted shortbread, a handmade mug, or a brown paper wrapped loaf of something delectable. Each time I am reminded of her sheer loveliness.
Another sends beautiful second hand books in the post when she has read them, knowing full well I will rarely be organised enough to return them. And a gem of a friend I lived with for many years used to leave something small but lovely on my pillow whenever I returned from a trip away.
At university, classically a time when few of us have money to spare, my other brother (with a full time job) took me to the big smoke. He ordered us decadent breakfasts, paid for entry to an art gallery, and covered the sandwiches that I would never have dreamed of buying in those days. I remember how luxurious it all felt, and how grateful I was for his expressions of adulthood and generosity.
Being generous, of course, is not always about paying for things. Sometimes it’s about sharing expertise, time or resource. When someone takes the time - to pause Line of Duty to take a phone call and listen to your woes, to help with that bloody stubborn new printer that refuses to connect, to share their professional opinion that you both know if it was anyone else you wouldn’t be able to afford - these are the things from otherwise unremarkable days that matter, that we remember.
And of course, after the - to put it mildly - gloomy year we’ve had, I have also been reminded that generosity in a crisis can be a tiny, flickering pin of light when it feels like you’ll never be able to find your way again.
In the peak of lockdown number two, my dad became ill with a condition renowned for its extreme pain (thankfully, not Covid). There was little distraction for any of us, except the stress of work, and the intensity of being at home non-stop. Friends rallied round - all sorts of treats arrived in the post that made me sob with gratefulness. But just as important were the practical offers - soon he had a video call with a doctor who had time to listen to his medical history without time pressure (done in the doctor’s own time), I had the name of a business consultant who would listen to the work pressures we were facing, and, though we were still in the thick of it, suddenly it didn’t feel quite so unfaceable.
When I was at school one of our teenage friends died very suddenly. Needless to say, it tore us all apart in a way that is still vivid and difficult to explain. Alongside the tears and rawness of the time, I remember another friend’s mother bringing ultra balmed tissues and eye cream to a gathering we had at the time. Something about this tiny gesture, how tactile and practical, and yes, just how very kind it was, has stayed with me nearly twenty years on.
If suffering is indeed part of being a human, then there is too also always an opportunity for kindness - tiny, thoughtful, gestures that can make a difference, if not at the time, then years later. Maybe in a couple of decades someone will be writing an article about what you chose to do.
Quick ones:
What's happening in India is heartbreaking. How to help
A long read on Syria's food culture
Babyteeth made me weep
I am a recent convert to the Blind Boy podcast - this episode on the Irish culture surrounding Guinness is a winner
A lot of love for this list that I found recently, of gifts my grandparents received on their wedding day
This is so simple and so delicious
The images this month are from a marbling class I did in April with Marmor Paperie.
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