I once did a good deed in my life. (If you do too many of them, people start to expect things.)
When my husband and I were vacationing in Carmel, we saw a sea lion lying on the beach, not moving and obviously sick. Being such good Samaritans, we immediately called the Monterey Bay Aquarium and waited for help to arrive.
I pictured a sea lion ambulance would roar up to the beach to the little guy’s rescue, but instead, after about thirty minutes, one lone scientist approached the sea lion. Barely pausing to acknowledge my husband and me, she picked up a stick and poked the creature several times. The poor guy didn’t move. “Yeah, he’s sick,” she then informed us knowledgeably. “I know because they don’t usually like it when you do that.” My husband I said nothing. We were too blown away by her mastery of the scientific process.
Sometimes I think that I haven’t really done much in my life. If I never lived, would anything be much different? I think about the movie It’s a Wonderful Life. Jimmy Stewart’s character is so intimidating. If he’d never lived, his whole town would be full of prostitutes and beggars. His war hero brother would have died as a child, so pretty much everyone in the US military would have died since his brother wouldn’t have been around to save them. I can’t say I’ve done anything as important as that.
But if the sea lion could talk, I think he’d say to me, “Sure you’re important. If you’d never lived, who would have summoned someone to poke me with a stick? I might never have even known I was sick.” And then I think that the hypothetical talking sea lion is right, and I feel better.
After her Stick Poke Test, the scientist called the Monterey Bay Aquarium and asked for someone to come pick up the poor, sick sea lion. It’s funny. That’s what my husband and I thought we had originally done, but apparently, due to the high volume of crank callers claiming to have found a sick sea lion on the beach—one that hasn’t even been scientifically verified as sick with the Stick Poke Test—this scientist needed to be the one to make the call.
So that’s my good deed. I once called someone, who called someone else, who saved a sick sea lion. Maybe. I didn’t actually follow up on that one.
But I don’t want you to think this is the only good deed I’ve ever done in my life. I do plenty of other helpful things for the world. For instance, when I have old clothes with stains I can’t get out, I donate them to Goodwill. They call me Gandhi down at the Goodwill store—or, at least, I call myself Gandhi, loudly and repeatedly, and I’m pretty sure it’ll catch on soon.
That’s not all. When I see something that may or may not be recyclable, I go ahead and recycle it—because that’s the kind of thing I’ll do to protect our earth. I’m pretty sure Al Gore made a movie about me.
There’s more. After my son ate some of his Halloween candy, I noticed it was all stuck in his teeth when I brushed them. That can’t be good for him. I’d hate to have him get cavities this young, so lately, after he goes to bed, I eat his Halloween candy. I just chalk it up to one of the many sacrifices of motherhood.
Plus, I absolutely, relentlessly, without exception, buy American.
Unless it’s cheaper to buy foreign, obviously.
This isn’t an exhaustive list. I could go on, but I hate to be intimidating, like old Jimmy, who singlehandedly raised a spirit to angel status (which really raises the question of why there’s a military hierarchy in heaven—does retirement never come?). I’ll just end by circling back to my original story of the time I gave CPR to an ailing marine creature, tirelessly performing chest compressions and mouth to mouth to resuscitate her until she slipped back into the sea where her three, forlorn pups were waiting for her. Their dad had swum off with some floozy long ago, so their mother was all they had left in the world. After a joyous reunion that brought tears to the eyes of every onlooker present (because by then we’d attracted a sizable crowd), the aquatic family waved their little flippers in gratitude before swimming into the sunset.
It was a little slippery and gross giving the old girl mouth to mouth, but I barely noticed. I was just doing my small part to help the world because that’s how I roll.
When my husband and I were vacationing in Carmel, we saw a sea lion lying on the beach, not moving and obviously sick. Being such good Samaritans, we immediately called the Monterey Bay Aquarium and waited for help to arrive.
I pictured a sea lion ambulance would roar up to the beach to the little guy’s rescue, but instead, after about thirty minutes, one lone scientist approached the sea lion. Barely pausing to acknowledge my husband and me, she picked up a stick and poked the creature several times. The poor guy didn’t move. “Yeah, he’s sick,” she then informed us knowledgeably. “I know because they don’t usually like it when you do that.” My husband I said nothing. We were too blown away by her mastery of the scientific process.
Sometimes I think that I haven’t really done much in my life. If I never lived, would anything be much different? I think about the movie It’s a Wonderful Life. Jimmy Stewart’s character is so intimidating. If he’d never lived, his whole town would be full of prostitutes and beggars. His war hero brother would have died as a child, so pretty much everyone in the US military would have died since his brother wouldn’t have been around to save them. I can’t say I’ve done anything as important as that.
But if the sea lion could talk, I think he’d say to me, “Sure you’re important. If you’d never lived, who would have summoned someone to poke me with a stick? I might never have even known I was sick.” And then I think that the hypothetical talking sea lion is right, and I feel better.
After her Stick Poke Test, the scientist called the Monterey Bay Aquarium and asked for someone to come pick up the poor, sick sea lion. It’s funny. That’s what my husband and I thought we had originally done, but apparently, due to the high volume of crank callers claiming to have found a sick sea lion on the beach—one that hasn’t even been scientifically verified as sick with the Stick Poke Test—this scientist needed to be the one to make the call.
So that’s my good deed. I once called someone, who called someone else, who saved a sick sea lion. Maybe. I didn’t actually follow up on that one.
But I don’t want you to think this is the only good deed I’ve ever done in my life. I do plenty of other helpful things for the world. For instance, when I have old clothes with stains I can’t get out, I donate them to Goodwill. They call me Gandhi down at the Goodwill store—or, at least, I call myself Gandhi, loudly and repeatedly, and I’m pretty sure it’ll catch on soon.
That’s not all. When I see something that may or may not be recyclable, I go ahead and recycle it—because that’s the kind of thing I’ll do to protect our earth. I’m pretty sure Al Gore made a movie about me.
There’s more. After my son ate some of his Halloween candy, I noticed it was all stuck in his teeth when I brushed them. That can’t be good for him. I’d hate to have him get cavities this young, so lately, after he goes to bed, I eat his Halloween candy. I just chalk it up to one of the many sacrifices of motherhood.
Plus, I absolutely, relentlessly, without exception, buy American.
Unless it’s cheaper to buy foreign, obviously.
This isn’t an exhaustive list. I could go on, but I hate to be intimidating, like old Jimmy, who singlehandedly raised a spirit to angel status (which really raises the question of why there’s a military hierarchy in heaven—does retirement never come?). I’ll just end by circling back to my original story of the time I gave CPR to an ailing marine creature, tirelessly performing chest compressions and mouth to mouth to resuscitate her until she slipped back into the sea where her three, forlorn pups were waiting for her. Their dad had swum off with some floozy long ago, so their mother was all they had left in the world. After a joyous reunion that brought tears to the eyes of every onlooker present (because by then we’d attracted a sizable crowd), the aquatic family waved their little flippers in gratitude before swimming into the sunset.
It was a little slippery and gross giving the old girl mouth to mouth, but I barely noticed. I was just doing my small part to help the world because that’s how I roll.
