If you feel as if you are acquiring a negative view of the world, then maybe you should look at yourself first and see the kind of image that you are projecting out into the world.
This story is true and reinforces my belief that Karma happens and that the great majority of people ... are good.
I wrote a thank you letter to General Mills -- that is, to the plant manager of the General Mills factory that operates about a block from our house. It has been there since we moved here in 1973. It is an icon of the neighborhood.
But, for whatever reason, the plant will be closing in the near future. I have been thinking about it ever since I heard the news. The workers who will be impacted. Who or what will take its place, or worse, for how long will it remain empty and unattended.
But mostly I have been thinking about how the General Mills plant has made a difference for me personally, this big, impartial, impersonal industrial presence. And as far as factories go, it has not been that bad.
So I wrote a thank you letter and expressed in my own way how much I have enjoyed the good General Mills smells that waft into my garden and fragrant my daily walks. I mentioned how important Cheerios have been as a staple for my husband and our four children as they grew up. I described (confessed) that on the rare holiday when the parking lot was empty, our kids would take advantage by riding bikes, racing remote control cars and just enjoying the uninhibited SPACE.
I concluded the letter with:
You have made a difference in our lives in many ways, and I am sure we are not the only family who can say that. I thought you should know while you are still ... our good neighbors.
I mailed the letter and immediately felt a lightness, a relief that I had said my peace. I asked the plant manager to please post the letter in all the break rooms so that every employee could read it ... since it was literally for them.
The plant manager paid a call on our house a few days later and dropped off a fitting sign of his appreciation: a box of samples of their products as an edible keepsake of the factory’s efforts. I was just happy that I had been heard, and delighted that my intended kindness had been reciprocated.
This happened at the end of February.
Time passed as it resolutely does.
Turn the calendar pages forward by about seven weeks and come to last Friday as I came wearily to our back door after work and entered. On our dining room table were nine grocery bags - 9!! - that were packed with more General Mills products, fresh from the plant and ready to eat. There were 16 packages of assorted Bugles. I had no idea they came in so many sizes and varieties! There were 42 boxes of cereal from Golden Grahams (my kids went through those like crazy back in the day) to Fiber One to a special edition of a cereal called Minions. (hunh?? OK, I am not with it) Most likely you will understand that reference.
As I looked at the bags and bags on our table, I was speechless -- flabbergasted -- and so incredibly amazed. My letter had by chance been noticed by the plant’s union president. A regular guy who stood up for the 400 some employees there and who also worked side by side with them.
Not only did he bring these nine delicious bags to our doorstep (thank goodness Bob is always home now in his retired glory), but he also wrote me a letter that gave to me a greater gift ... what he felt when he read what I had written.
There is no easy way to explain this. But this man, who has been at the plant for the last 26 years, revealed to me what the closing of the plant meant to him. I was so delighted and sad at the same time. For instance, he wrote:
I cannot thank you enough for your kind words and your thoughtful stories of Bob and your children. We too are reminiscing with each other more than ever lately.
Your letter found me at a perfect time to lift my spirits. It has been very emotional for all of us. I worry about everyone here at my plant.
I respect this man who took the time and trouble to speak his peace in response to mine ... a regular guy in his regular world ... the faceless stranger who just the same reached out and confirmed a bond of mutual regard.
It costs nothing and brings great inner reward to say something that is true and positive to someone you don’t know. Toot someone else’s horn -- or should I say “bugle.” (wink)
