Every Saturday, the St. Paul Pioneer Press runs a feature recognizing the Sainted and Tainted. Readers write in (or email, I suppose) when a person or business has done something nice. Or not. Sainted people have returned a lost wallet, uprighted someone who has fallen, or helped a motorist in distress. Tainted people cut drivers’ off in traffic, slip into an undeserved parking spot, or make a nasty gesture with their finger.
     When I gave directions to an elderly woman who couldn’t find the way to her appointment, I drew a map and offered to lead the way for her. She thanked me profusely and said she would write about my kindness and send it to the St. Paul paper for the Sainted and Tainted feature. I, of course would be a saint. She didn’t have to go to the trouble, I assured her. Her gratitude was enough for me.
     Yet, every Saturday for weeks, I checked to see if my little bit of kindness had qualified me for sainthood. It hadn’t.
     Years ago, performing random acts of kindness was a movement that had people talking. And slapping "Perform Random Acts of Kindness" bumper stickers on their car’s rear end. All across the country, Americans did nice things for total strangers, expecting nothing in return. They may have paid for the order of the person behind them in a fast food line. Picked up a book dropped by a school mate. Or smiled at a stranger passing by.
     When I was a youngster, the Boy Scout helping a little old lady across the street was the model of a fortuitous gesture. That was about the same time I read about an Englishman named Sir Walter Raleigh who laid his cloak over a puddle of water so a lady could cross the road without getting her dainty slipper-shod feet wet. Chivalry, it was called.
     For awhile, people said chivalry was dead. I think it was just misunderstood. Men became confused because women said they could open their own doors. If she reached a door before a man, many women wondered, why stand in front of it like a helpless wimp? Why not open the door for the man?
     That’s why random acts of kindness work—nothing to do with age or gender and no obligation to earn a scout badge. You do something nice because it’s the right thing to do. If you’re the recipient, you might pass it on (also known as paying it forward) and help someone else.
     A recent newspaper ad for Hilton hotels showed a map of the USA with colored dots scattered across various states. Each dot represents a city where a good deed has been performed. The idea is for you, me, everyone, to document acts of kindness we have witnessed or received. Whether performed by a relative, friend, neighbor, even a perfect stranger, we are supposed to tattle on them. In a good way. These testimonials will be posted on a website.
     The ad encourages us to follow the hotel chain’s philosophy: "Be hospitable." I wish they would have used a different word. Hospitable makes me think I should have done more than draw a map for the woman who couldn’t find her way to her lunch date. Should I have invited her to come home with me?
     Maybe if I had, my name would have been mentioned in the Sainted section of the paper and I’d be polishing my halo right now.