A Simple Act of Kindness
I’m at the rock climbing gym with my daughter, and we are having a good day. The ritual starts with the smelly bag of harnesses, chalk, and climbing shoes. They come out, we put them on, and head over to the bouldering wall. Today there aren’t many people, so we get our pick of the liter. This particular gym in Houston is much larger than our spot at home, so there are a lot of options.
We pick an open area, warm up the muscles, and begin working up to harder and harder routes. So many colors of holds - pinks and blacks, greens and yellows. Then there are the different shapes and grips. All these are built to use different techniques and skills. Can you balance, how’s your finger strength, is leaping in your playbook? It might seem like a slanted wall with a few different holds would get boring the more you do it, but if you keep pushing yourself to more challenging climbs, it becomes increasingly satisfying to make it up something you only stared at in disbelief weeks ago.
After the bouldering comes the actual walls. One person climbs, the other belays. Belaying is a fancy word for “keep the person on the wall from falling to their death.” A rope is attached to said climber, then goes up through an anchor at the top of the wall and back down to the person on the ground. This person pulls the rope through a belay device as the climber ascends the wall. Some people have fancy upside down glass things that allow you to see up without arching your head up as you belay.
If you are an advanced climber, there is no anchor at the top, and instead you slip the rope through little clips called quickdraws. On real outdoor rock you put your own protective pieces into cracks in the stone as you go. They are shaped like backwards lobster claws on a spring you control with one finger. Space age equipment.
Truth be told, I'm not anything more than an enthusiast who knows the basics and enjoys climbing with his daughter. We have been going since she was four (she is ten while I write this). Climbing is fun, but more than anything it is something we do together for the sake of being together. Even when you enjoy someone’s company, you don’t generally just sit and stare at each other. You find hobbies or entertainment that you both enjoy. For us, it is climbing.
What sets this particular day apart for me is the staff member that gave me two gifts. The first was prompted by my daughter. You see, because she is tiny, she can’t belay me, meaning the climbing is very one sided, with her on the wall and me simply being a happy dad. But she told me I should ask a staff member if they would belay me. I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone, so I hesitated. But after more prodding, the next day I asked. Turns out the little booger was right to push me, because this particular gentleman said they don’t normally do it, but since it was slow he would be happy to.
The difference between climbing ten feet off the ground when you are bouldering and going thirty feet up a wall is quite different. The higher you go, the more your body tries to rebel against your sense of comfort. You get nervous, your palms get sweaty, and you lose concentration. That is what makes it fun. The stakes are higher, and the reward is sweeter. I do love climbing up tall things when I can, and luckily I got a lot of opportunities when I was younger. That’s what makes me content when I pretty much just belay my daughter every time we go.
But on this day, the opportunity to get up a tall wall was exhilarating. The thrill of getting so high in the air, of trying to focus and make all the right moves, of holding onto tiny knobs protruding from an overhung wall got my blood pumping. My body even betrayed my joy when I got to the bottom and the staff member asked how it was. “Awesome,” I said, my voice cracking like I was going through puberty again.
Then I got chatting with this fellow. We got talking about climbing, hobbies, and family. I can’t help it. People are so interesting, and I want to know everything about everyone. But on this day he was the one asking most of the questions. Through this gentle interrogation, he learned that we were in Houston to receive radiation treatment for my wife. The fact that we were 1,800 miles from home, and here for radiation left enough bread crumbs to say what she was dealing with, without needing to spell it out.
After a second successful climb, I felt the need to let him return to his real job, and thanked him for allowing me to get a little climbing in. He went left, and we went right to let my daughter get a few more climbs in. Twenty minutes later we were walking past the front desk on our way out. He caught my eye and said, “Hey, I noticed your temporary membership was up in a few days, so I gave you another couple weeks.” That was all. No deep concerns expressed, no lingering glances or expected remarks of appreciation. It was simple. An act of kindness. A man who works at a climbing gym who took a few minutes out of his day to let a dad get his spiderman on, followed by a little gift of time and space for that dad and his daughter to bond longer.
Sometimes the world feels unstable. Sometimes it seems like no one is looking out for each other, or even noticing anything outside of their phone. Sometimes a world full of people feels lonely. All it takes is one simple act of kindness to fully replenish your belief that we are going to be alright. That people really do care, and they do listen. I feel silly that I never even learned the gentleman's name, but thank you nameless rock climber man. Your small gift hit in a big way.
