Trust can be wonderful

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The temperature was perfect. All was right with the world. Actually, that last statement was wrong, but there is no way to mend anything for the time being.

We were out running errands. We had walked up to the city office to pay the water bill and were headed towards our next stop. As we neared the barbershop, we both remarked that hubby needed a haircut. We stopped in and asked when the next opening was. The barber replied, how about right now?

We explained that we hadn’t brought any money with us. The barber told us we could pay the next time we came in. That was unexpected. Hubby had only been to that shop a few times. I offered to go home and bring back the cash. This offer was squashed by both men.

I sat and watched as the cut hair drifted to the floor. Both of us liked the end result. We completed our errands, went back home and retrieved enough cash to pay the barber. We walked back uptown and paid him, thus reinforcing his trust in us.

How many times does someone offer to do a job without some kind of guarantee of payment? Hubby thinks it is partly because we are older. I guess age offers its own perks.

Each generation seems to have its own values. Our generation was raised on peace, love and rock and roll. We were going to change the world. No more wars, no more hunger, no more injustice. No more discrimination according to race.

Life didn’t work out the way we had planned. We changed the world all right, not always for the better. We are the ones who taught our young that guns solve problems.

War, hunger, and injustice are still embedded deep within us. Newspapers are still filled with the ugliness of our lives. The headlines telling us of another mass shooting come more and more often. People use the internet to spew hatred. I don’t understand any of it. Whatever became of the saying, “If you can’t say something nice then don’t say anything at all?”

Yet, in small towns people trust each other enough to say, “You can pay me later.” Trust is such a fragile thing. Once broken, it is almost impossible to get back. Words and actions can be forgiven, but not forgotten.

On the other hand, when I shop at the big box store in town I am treated like a criminal if each and every item in my cart is not bagged. I hand over my receipt. I understand why this is necessary. It still irritates me. I can’t imagine any store offering to let me pay later.

In the aftermath of all the tornados lately, my brother, David, his wife and some of their friends are helping to clean up the massive amounts of debris left behind. They are doing this because it is the right thing to do.

In any natural disaster, people will come out of the woodwork to help. Unfortunately, thieves also come out. My cousin, Lee, who lives in Dayton, said he heard of one group that was offering to help with the cleanup had all their tools and supplies stolen from their trucks when they were sleeping at a local hotel.

We weren’t expecting the barber to trust us, but he did. The clean-up crew didn’t expect to have their tools stolen. They trusted the unknown thieves.

Trust is such a fragile thing. It is wonderful when it works and disheartening when it doesn’t.