Sundaywas a picture perfect day for the Boston Walk for Hunger. It was a bit windy, but sunny and a lot warmer than New Hampshire. Despite the wind, those of us who walked learned some important lessons on the value of random acts of kindness.
Approximately fifty thousand people donned their walking shoes to make the 20 mile trek around Boston. We began at the Boston Commons, circling around past Boston College and through Cambridge past Harvard, where, naturally, we paused to sing the Alma Mater. Along the way, various checkpoints offered water and shuttles returning to the Commons. Food stands enticed walkers with childhood boardwalk fantasies like fried dough, fresh-squeezed lemonade and Italian sausages. And of course, what would a check point be without a few dozen port-o-potties?
Hundreds of volunteers lined the roads, directing traffic and encouraging walkers. Even the cops remained pleasant in the face of the potential disaster posed by thousands of people roaming the streets of the city. Signs encouraged walkers with cute little catch phrases: "Thanks for using your feet so other people can eat."
The first of two random acts of kindness that are salient to me occurred at check point number one, where we made our first port-o-potty stop. Waiting in line, I noticed a woman wearing a Walk for Hunger pin. Asking her where she got it, I found out that she was one of the many volunteers of the day. Sadly, I thought, there would be no pin for me. I must have looked forlorn enough for her to decide to give me her pin. In the energy of the moment, I was ecstatic to have received such a gift, which is currently pinned to my backpack.
The second random act of kindness occurred during our eighth mile. After temporarily ditching the slowpokes and smokers among us, my friend and I spotted Heaven about a hundred yards away. Heaven, in this case, took the form of the ice cream man. Yes, indeed, right before our eyes sat that big, old, white truck with the pictures of ice-cream sandwiches, cherry Italian ices and red-white-and-blue striped Astro-pops.
My empty stomach compelled me to sprint towards the truck, my mind on one thing only: Toasted Almond, my favorite childhood treat from the ice cream man. However, there was one problem. The Ice Cream Man was stuck behind a road block. He asked me to move the City of Boston road block so that he could drive onto the road. After I dragged the wooden block out of his way, he gave me a free Toasted Almond and a free ice cream sandwich for my friend.
Naturally we were the envy of the rest of the group who had been given a chance to catch up. We walked as a group a little while longer, sharing our ice cream and laughing together. At mile nine, most of the group left the walk to shop and eat at Harvard Square. Three of us continued to walk, completing the twenty miles after six hours.
Our three exhausted bodies crossed the finish line arm in arm, adrenaline coursing through ourveins. Our legs were almost numb, our faces sunburned, and our feet had begun to blister. But at that point we couldn't have been any more giddy, and we couldn't have felt any better about living.
So what of these silly random acts of kindness? Primarily, the day was organized to raise money for food. In retrospect, there was a lot more going on at the walk-a-thon than working to end hunger. There was something deeper than just the positive feeling gained from social activism.
Sunday was about free ice creams and giving away pins. It was about hundreds of people gathering to make colorful signs for the walkers. It was all about the little boy not more than ten years old, wearing a sticker that proudly displayed this Walk for Hunger as his ninth. It was about the tens of thousands of diverse people whose lives, so often at cross-purposes to one another, intersected for eight hours to make a difference. It was about sitting at the half-way mark with two friends, comfortable enough not to have to say a word, and comfortable enough to say anything at all.
What can help to feed the hungry is walking 20 miles around Boston. What makes the world go 'round are the bonds between friends who cross the finish line hand in hand, and the random acts of kindness that make the sunburn and the blisters all worth while.
