Give or Take

I was at an Eid al-Fitr celebration in San Francisco this past weekend. It is a Muslim fete at the end of Ramadan, the festival of breaking the fast. There was a joyous scene bubbling along Golden Gate Avenue in the Tenderloin, an immigrant neighborhood bordering the Civic Center where I live. Bouncing houses and shawarma popups, ethnic music and dancing, olive oils from Jordan and pottery from Palestine, an open air clothing bazar selling all manner of niqabs and hijabs and abayas (I’m learning). There were also numerous community organizations offering free services and looking for volunteers. I’m considering my look in a crossing guard vest.

Eid is to be honored through acts of kindness and generosity, of sharing meals with others and being charitable to one’s family and those less fortunate. Other religions have similar traditions: the Jewish Purim, Buddhist Vesak, and Christmas, of course. These benevolent rituals are effective happiness bombs for their followers. It is widely documented that acts of kindness and generosity are some of the lowest hanging fruit in the blessed tree of positive vibes. We get a much greater emotional boost from giving than getting. (For an insightful read on the proven power of generosity, enjoy this paper from the Greater Good Science Center.)

I caught up with an old friend last week, over an afternoon beer at the SF Ferry Building. His wife has been volunteering in a hospice care unit since both parents passed away recently, one shortly after the other. That was quite the emotional hit, understandably, and this act of giving was helping backstop the slide. My sister Cathy too used to volunteer at a Ronald McDonald House, which helps families in need of accommodations and support near pediatric hospitals. Her time spent with children, some terminally ill, could be trying but deeply rewarding. She had her dark moments, as do we all, and this was the best antidote. Cathy was a giver, as is my friend’s wife Susan.

My first 3 months back in San Francisco were spent at the big blue house on 6^th Avenue and Irving Street in the Inner Sunset. I was offered a furnished studio there, at no cost, because I needed a temporary place while looking for my next apartment. How did this happen, to enjoy a charming unit in a beautiful historic home in a trendy neighborhood in one of America’s most expensive cities, … for free? Barbara Oleksiw. She’s a giver.

Aside from the large toy library of dolls, games, puzzles and other things Barbara organises and sets out daily for neighborhood families – take what you want and give back what you no longer play with – Barbara offers a community bulletin board, free monthly knife sharpening, and live musical entertainment during street fairs from her sizeable garden. While I was living there, Barbara invited a farmers market bakery to give away their unsold croissants and other delights from her street corner post market, and personally bought 50 roasted Costco chickens to donate to families in need one weekend. She just set up a table with a few friends and gave them away. Inspiring.

Barbara Oleksiw's Big Blue House in the Inner Sunset, San Francisco.

My mother was also an inexhaustible source of kindness and compassion, and I was blessed. She looked for the best in everyone, never (and I do mean never) criticised, sought calm and compromise in all situations, and was effusive with her smiles and complements and gifts. On the give versus take meter she bent the needle, like Barbara.

The brilliant and the boors

Some people are brilliant suns and others boorish black holes. Most of us bounce in between; good days and bad. Then there are the deeply deprived and aggrieved, wholly committed to sharing their miseries.

Stephen Miller is a fine sample from that angry set of folks stewing at the sewer end of the give versus take spectrum. Let’s take a look. Everything Miller says, every scowl he casts, every immigrant community he demeans, reveals a man deeply unhappy with his lot in life: white and raised upper middle class in sunny Santa Monica, California, a graduate of prestigious Duke University (in just as sunny North Carolina), and political annoyance suddenly elevated to giddy levels of influence and power. The contempt Miller holds for all who contest his zealous beliefs is expressed in a twisted sneer that chills the soul and sucks the warmth out of all in proximity. Think Death Eaters of Harry Potter fame, or the hunched Max Schreck from the 1922 film Nosferatu. Miller is a taker.

So what’s the point here, … (it’s rosé hour, this needs to wrap up). Our place on the give or take spectrum is something over which we have agency. No one can be Mother Theresa 24/7, but we choose to call our better angels or send forth our demons at will. That Winnie was one of the happiest people on earth and also spent her every waken hour with the haloed doers of good deeds does not prove causation. That Stephen Miller presents as one of the angriest people you’d be unfortunate enough to meet and commits his every drop of sulfurous energy squeezing hope from all those in his orbit does not prove causation, but boy is that correlation compelling. Along what part of that spectrum do you want live? I think I know the answer. You know mine too.