How to be kind... for more than two hundred years

Seven stories from around the world

In our final essay for 2025 Julie Snider sets the scene and undertakes the curation of our writings. And what a super collection of work we’ve produced, yet again!

Our collective celebrates art, ecology, philosophy, and place. We come together under the banner Lay it on the Line in order to create new work.

Through the last seven months we have taken it in turns to write about a subject close to our hearts. Then we’ve offered it to our co-writers for a response.

These provocations have helped me write pieces that perhaps have no place elsewhere. Here, though, they find a home being connected in topic, and they often emerge as memoir, as first-hand personal stories.

However, this month, for my contribution titled ‘Kindness in Perpetuity’, I went back to some research I conducted for my Creative Writing Masters Degree, to a particular instance of philanthropy that has lasted for more than two hundred years. It’s astonishing to think that a codicil to a Last Will and Testament could have such longevity.

Please enjoy our final essay for 2025!

Julie Snider (California)

Dear Fellow Collaborators:

I’m a retired high school science teacher, and I was lucky enough to spend the last third of my career teaching environmental science. One topic I enjoyed sharing with the kids was the symbiotic relationships found between animals in nature. Textbooks include six relationships: parasitism, predation, commensalism, competition, neutralism, and mutualism. Absent among them is a distinctly human capacity. It’s altruism, often called the kindness of strangers.

In these fractious times, it may seem odd to focus on selflessness, as the news feeds a steady diet of its complete opposite. Still, I’ve begun a little study of altruism, reading about its evolutionary roots, understanding the advantages of caring for strangers versus tending only to one’s own needs and those of kit and kin. Altruism seems like a drastic departure from “survival of the fittest,” and the very fact that we can see a thread of compassion for others woven through the many disasters befalling the planet may feel counterintuitive.

I’ve experienced more than a few instances of strangers coming to my rescue. Once, when I contracted Bell’s palsy and couldn’t afford medical care, two women I’d never met approached my roommate and handed her money to help pay for treatment. Another time, more recently, I accidentally dropped a rather large sum of money in a gift shop. The owner noticed it and retrieved it. Not knowing if she’d see me again, she placed it in a bag. By chance, I walked past the shop once more, and out she walked with the bag of cash I didn’t even realize I’d lost.

I have a theory—more of a hope, really— that as the ravages of climate change, authoritarianism, and war continue to rain down upon us, altruism may blossom. Perhaps it will be more along the lines of “enlightened self- interest” as we realize that interdependence is more than just a fancy word used by religious scholars, biologists, and social scientists.

Tennessee Williams’ character Blanche Dubois was a pitiful, unsavory character in “A Streetcar Named Desire.” But I think we’re on the brink of depending upon, and learning to become, those strangers whose kindness may save us in the end. At the very least, it’s an idea I hope catches fire and burns in the hearts of more of us as we navigate the changing world.

Warmly, Julie.

Donna Fisher (Australia)

Your prompt took me back to a moment at university, in a Psychology of Politics class on Hobbes, Locke, and Hume. Our lecturer, Professor Berrington, asked a room of nineteen-year-olds whether we had ever done something kind for a stranger that did not benefit us in any way. People offered examples; helping someone with their shopping, donating to charity, the usual. Then he asked me.

I said, “No.”

My classmates scoffed. This wasn’t anything new. Even though I was studying in my hometown, I was the odd one out in that room: they were wealthy, privately educated, the kind of people who called me ‘The Marxist’ like it was the ultimate insult. Most of them didn’t know how much a loaf of bread cost because they “never checked the price.” Their opinions didn’t matter to me, but the feeling of not being welcome did.

Professor Berrington smiled and asked me to elaborate.

“If I help someone, I feel good,” I said. “If I donate to charity, I feel good. I’m motivated to do something because I want to feel better.”

“An honest answer,” he said, and the scoffing stopped.

He then spoke about Hume, who believed that motivation to help others, even when it benefits us emotionally, is not only acceptable but fundamentally human, and necessary to keep the wheels of society and humanity spinning.^[1] Hume believed we have mixed motives, we aren’t entirely altruistic, we aren’t entirely selfish, and self interest, or derived pleasure from doing something good, does not cancel out the kindness of the act.

What Professor Berrington did that day, was an act of kindness. In a room where I was being made to feel out of place, he created space for me to belong. Was he motivated by self-interest? Perhaps to challenge the others, to make them examine their own motivations? He certainly had a knack for that - I wish one of his lectures could go viral on social media, I think a lot of people would benefit from his ability to make you think more critically about politicians, and yourself.

The reason doesn’t matter, the effect does. He made this working-class girl feel that she had every right to be in that room — and every right to her own way of thinking. It was an act of kindness that, nearly thirty years later, I have not forgotten.

^[1] … ‘it seems undeniable, that nothing can bestow more merit on any human creature than the sentiment of benevolence in an eminent degree; and that a part, at least, of its merit arises from its tendency to promote the interests of our species, and bestow happiness on human society.’ Hume - An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, Section 2 Of Benevolence. (1751, 1777) https://davidhume.org/texts/m/2

Bee Lilyjones (Northern England)

I was six years of age, and my mother was approaching her thirty-eighth birthday on the day that Britain changed to the decimal system, where the old system of pounds, shillings and pence - with twelve pennies to the shilling and twenty shillings to the pound - was replaced by a decimal system in which the pound was divided into one hundred new pence.

The day has stayed with me, not so much because of decimalisation, but the memory of walking home from school with my mother. There was an elderly woman, visibly upset, outside the post office and, perhaps because the village was expanding so then, not everybody knew everybody anymore.

My mother stopped to help the woman, who said she had got in a muddle with the new money, didn’t understand it. I remember the woman’s outstretched hand and the way my mother held her hand while counting the money in the woman’s palm with the other. My mother reassured the woman that, for now, she could still use her threepenny pieces, but that she would receive any change in decimal money.

“Let’s go inside and sort it out,” said my mother.

Afterwards, the woman pushed a sixpence into my hand, my favourite coin as, magically, I always got the serving of figgy pudding on Christmas Day with a sixpence in it. An old English tradition said to bring luck.

With love and wishing you peace of mind,

Bee

Stacy Boone (Vermont)

None of us lives in a silo but I will contradict myself in a few moments. Centuries ago we could make more of a claim as self-reliance was met with sweat and grit, but little time for tears. An era when the land offered remedies for illness and filled bellies. Rudimentary shelter was still shelter.

In The Odyssey guest-friendship rituals exist. A code of hospitality, xenia, it is called. I think of xenia as a check of accountability and consequence. Before embarking on distrust, first comes meeting foundational needs—food, water, shelter—conversing at a table. It feels appropriate to be reading this classic with Matthew Long (Homeward Bound - An Introduction to The Odyssey) in this time when mutual dependence is often depicted as … unnecessary.

I remember a cousin saying, “a village does not raise a child.” She could do that herself, thank you. I blanched at the confidence that she knew all that would ever need to be passed along to her son. Who has all the tools, the knowledge, the skill? I’d argue none of us despite the current impulse to be siloed: kept in isolation in a way that hinders communication and cooperation. (SILOED Definition & Meaning - Merriam-Webster).

Stranger is a word that simply defines the short moment between meeting and exchanging words. How fortunate for me to have learned from so many. My most fond memories stem from backpacking, dirty and fit, thumb out on the side of roadways with few vehicles, waiting for someone to pick me up. Drives were time of chatting, learning the ways of others, being a part of their day-to-day, or at minimum a glimpse into life different from my own. So much can be learned from conversations inside a vehicle. Speaking to a person whose focus is mostly on the road, keeping a passenger and self safe, and passing the time with talking.

Earlier this year I shared an essay about one man I met—Nate. (024.1 - Nature-Placed Relationship, A Field Note). Those few hours are twenty years in the distance, yet Nate still rests in the forefront of the person I want to be—one with knowledge to share, a history to tell, the reminder that connections run deep: from the land, family, neighbors. To the people who will come before and after.

Amanda C. Sandos (Virginia)

I have witnessed the kindness of strangers many times, but one story I remember frequently, because contrary to the horrors we are witnessing daily, kindness is also happening all around us, often offered without expectations, and often “paid forward” when received. This story reminds me.

One morning, at Carol’s diner at six am, before an early pet sitting run (my day job), the good old boys club were already seated in their weekly extended table being rowdy. Most of them came from the farms surrounding our village.

The manager of the diner was of Mexican descent. Maria is kind and funny and always serves with a smile. This particular morning, she looked harried. It didn’t take me long to realize the table of good old boys were talking smack about Mexicans being ”... illegal, and filthy, stealing our jobs and fucking up our country.” This was taking place loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear, while Maria was pouring them hot coffee with a forced smile.

As you know, I grew up in Mexico, so I was more livid than most watching this deplorable behaviour. I bolted up in the middle of the crowded restaurant to loudly call these men out. I pointed to Maria doing her job like she did every damned morning and demanded they apologize to her, admonishing them for their disrespect and abuse. By the time I was finished with them, most of them looked shamefaced and were mumbling apologies. But, Maria looked like a deer caught in headlights. I’m pretty sure I embarrassed the crap out of her which was not my intention.

But, when I headed up to the counter to pay, Maria gave me a teary-eyed thanks for standing up to her bullies. She handed me a note and said, “This is for you from the two ladies who always sit in the corner booth. They paid for your meal this morning to thank you.” We were both teary-eyed by the time I read their note.

I decided that I wanted to pay it forward right away, so I gestured to the ladies behind me and paid their tab. An act of community and solidarity seemed important. The ladies had witnessed it all and suggested that they continue to pay it forward to find out how far one act of kindness might go. Maria kept a copy of all of the invoices by the register, and as each customer left that day, they were told their meal was paid and asked if they wanted to keep the chain going.

The next morning, Maria informed me that everyone, including the bullies, decided to pay it forward all day until closing, and Carol’s comped the last person’s meal, as well. That last person, we hope, went on to continue the chain somewhere else. How lovely that every person, even if they had to pay for a bigger party’s tab, chose an act of kindness for their community members.

Best of all, the old bully’s club was much kinder to Maria moving forward. Perhaps, they changed their minds about immigrants. Most likely, they didn’t. But, kindness is available to every sentient being and should be practiced for all sentient beings. Kindness will change people’s behaviors because it will beget more kindness. And so it goes.

Yasmin Chopin (Scottish Borders)

Kindness in Perpetuity

One of the first antique dealers in London, Edward Holmes Baldock, was born in the year 1777, a time when the American Revolution was underway and King George III was on the throne of Great Britain and Ireland. If we go back exactly two hundred years, Edward (or EHB as he came to be known) would have been 48 years old and in his prime.

Based in a workshop premises in a side street just off Oxford Street, (a bustling place even then), EHB was wheeling and dealing in furniture and ceramics and objects d’art. My interest in interiors motivated me to learn more about this man and I researched his life for my Masters Degree in Creative Writing. I came to the conclusion that he was both selfless and selfish and, pertinently, his altruism has lasted to this very day in the form of a charity that carries his name.

EHB died at the age of 68 in 1845. He set aside a £750 legacy in a codicil to his Last Will and Testament. The sum was for his local church to invest, with instructions for the interest to be given annually to six poor and needy people. The money is still being managed by the church and, on checking the Charity Commission’s records, £20 was raised and donated in 2024.

This legacy was a final act of generosity and care, yet it was also a means of ensuring eternal remembrance. Not totally selfless then. Also, EHB stipulated that the monies should be paid out on 14th May each year, his birthday!

‘Edward Holmes Baldock of Hyde Park Place in the County of Middlesex Esquire. by a codicil to his will…’

The beneficiaries are chosen by the Trustees of the charitable fund and there are stipulations, such as they must not have received any other charity in that year, and they should not benefit from this charity two years running.

How do the recipients feel when they’re presented with this handout? I assume that the gift, or ‘bounty’ as it’s described in the codicil, is appreciated. Early on it was worth a tidy sum. Today, of course, £20 will buy very little.

When I spoke to Paul Ireland, the Honorary Treasurer of the Parochial Church Council, who was one of the trustees in 2020, I questioned whether the charity should continue in perpetuity. He said that they add the interest raised from the EHB fund together with other donations in order to make a decent sum. They then distribute it to three beneficiaries instead of six because it’s not that easy to identify recipients. And, interestingly, Paul knew nothing of EHB and was intrigued by my research.

For how many years, decades, even centuries, will this particular kindness to strangers continue?

The codicil stipulates it ‘shall yearly and every year forever’ be given.

Julia Adzuki (Sweden)

I’m late to respond. First the fridge broke down, then I did too. Then all the words I’d written tasted like straw in my mouth. Without a doubt, I’ve hit exhaustion.

Up until last week I’d been surfing a miraculous wave of love and support, from friends, family and the kindness of strangers. I was high on this buoyancy, it gave me powers to make magic and meaning in the midst of a mountain of challenges. But then I rested, let the adrenalin of medical emergency settle, and after two months on high I hit the rocky shore of having lost myself, hard. I get that this was inevitable, that it’s healthy even, but it does not make the rocks any softer. So now I’m just laying here, resting, letting my body soften around them. Listening to the sea of kindness still lapping comfort to my ears, and this small but significant moment comes to mind.

When things were at their worst, the day Patrick had brain surgery. It was ten at night, but there were no restrictions on visiting hours. I was sitting quietly in Neuro ICU when a nurse I’d never met before suddenly ordered me to leave. I found myself in the corridor, on the other side of a locked door to Patrick, not knowing if he would make it through the night. I lost it completely, crying loudly and trying to find my way to my car. To tired to drive, to tired to make a plan. I called my friend Marianne for help but got lost in the maze of the hospital.

I was in the wrong elevator on the wrong floor, when a nurse stepped in, out of uniform and on her way home with a glow of calm around her. She met my most strung out state with warmth and care. Without judgement, fear or hesitation, she asked me what had happened and how she could help. As I explained, she looked at me close up, as if into a mirror. In that moment it seemed, she could see herself in me and that granted me a breath of calm to see myself in her. She helped me to the right floor, walked me to the right elevator and got me to my car. From there my friend on the phone took over, guiding me remotely and covering my hotel for the night, and Patrick made it through.

In the hundreds of meetings with doctors and nurses I’ve had since then, this moment really stands out. It seems to me the hierarchies of healthcare often inhibit our person to person meetings. At times miracles happen and we really meet each other, but these roles of professional, patient and carer entail so many assumptions. Assumptions that at times take the care out of healthcare and leave me wondering - can there even be health without care?

Credits and Links

• Post Script: We know Patrick is making progress, small steps towards recovery, and we offer Julia and her family all the love we can from our corners of the globe. On a more practical level, if you’d like to help, please consider becoming a paid subscriber of ARTISTS in RESONANCE where Julia writes about life in their off-grid home in the Swedish forest. Alternatively, Julia has set up a GoFundMe page.

• Top image design by Bee Lilyjones. Photo of codicil my own.

• See all posts published by Lay it on the Line here.

Have you experienced an act of kindness from a stranger? I’d love to hear your stories.

As always, I look forward to chatting in the comments.