You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Little acts of kindness that circle the universe, gather pixie dust from Tinkerbell and good will from Gandhi, and then come home to nest.
Usually you never hear about it. Sometimes you do.
This morning the assignment editor comes to me and says.
“There’s a congressman’s secretary on the line. She wants to talk to you.”
“A congressman’s secretary?”
“Yeah from South Carolina.”
“South Carolina?”
“Says his name is Mark Sanford.”
The name sounds familiar.
“What about?”
“She won’t tell me. She wants to talk to you. What do you want me to say?”
“Put her through.”
A moment later my phone rings.
“Hello, it’s Andy.”
The woman tells me her name and says she is a secretary for U.S. Congressman Mark Sanford.
“He wants t talk to you,” she says. “Can I get a number for you?”
I smile thinking this is some sort of joke.
“Can you tell me what this is about?”
“He wants to tell you himself,” she says.
“You realize I’m a reporter in Nashville, Tennessee, right?”
“Yes, he knows that,” she says maintaining a degree of stealth.
“OK, Sure.” I give her my desk number and my email address.
I quickly forget the phone call going out on my story.
I return to the office hours later. Suddenly my cell phone rings.
I look down and the area code is 202. That’s Washington D.C.
I study the phone curiously. I quickly think back to my morning discussion with the woman from the Representative’s office. I never gave anyone my cell phone. That’s odd I say as I answer.”
“Andy…”
The voice on the other end says “Hello this is Mark Sanford, South Carolina Representative. Is this Andy?”
My mind is racing. How did he get my cell phone number? I sit down and try and decipher in a moment what is going on. I am once again tripping over this man’s name. Why is this name familiar?
“That’s me,” I say in a voice that is much calmer than my actual demeanor.
I stare at my computer screen wondering why a Congressman from S.C. is calling a Nashville News reporter.
The call feels real. But a part of me is initially on edge.
“Yes sir, how can I help you,” I say.
Sensing my questioning pause, He says again; “I’m Mark Sanford, the former Governor who blew up his career.”
Like a bug splatting a windshield, the name Mark Sanford slams against my cerebellum.
Remember him? A few years back, this was the story everyone was talking about. The South Carolina Governor was a possible Republican presidential candidate.
Then…
Bam.
He disappeared off the face of the Earth.
His office put out a story that he was hiking the Appalachian Trail.
In reality, he was knee deep in an extramarital affair.
When the truth finally emerged through the stew of lies and the bog of political double speak, it turns out that the Governor had the hots for a South American woman. When nobody could find him he was reportedly out of the country doing tequila shots out of her navel.
Americans are nothing if not forgiving, and somehow a family man who lied, cheated on his wife, and was publicly ridiculed on every late night talk show, was back in the political saddle, having been re-elected to South Carolina’s 1st Congressional District.
“I just want to thank you”, he says.
I’m stunned. “For what?” I interject, truly confused.
“That was my son who over slept and missed the Music City Marathon” he says.
“That was your son?” I say like a parrot high on Captain Morgan’s rum.
I remember the story well.
It was pouring rain. It was icy cold. I had been in the rain for almost 3 straight hours. I did countless live hits for the Music City Marathon.
So it’s almost 8:30 am, the last group left nearly half an hour ago. Garbage trucks are cleaning up trash. Race officials are tearing down the scaffolding. Suddenly a young man arrives. He is stretching. He is wearing a racers bib. He looks like a real runner, but he is so late.
“What are you doing?” I say to the kid who appears to be very frustrated, possibly even crying.
I over slept,” he says straight faced. He tells me that he set multiple alarm clocks. He didn’t hear them. He says his room mate woke up and said “Hey dude, don’t you have a marathon to run?”
That’s never good when your roommate says that.
So I do a quick interview with the kid. I remember he says he is a freshman from Vanderbilt and he is from South Carolina. He tells me his name and come to think of it, his last name is Sanford.
I suddenly get an idea and motion for him to join me under what’s left of the starting grid.
Suddenly he smiles.
I look to the last race official still on the course who nods approvingly.
I raise my hand. My camera man captures it all.
The kid readies his watch.
“On your mark, get set go.”
He takes off shouting “thanks.
I watch for a moment and he disappears over the crest of a hill on West End Avenue.
I remember feeling great, like I did something nice for the boy. I never thought I would see him again.
But this story had a life of its own.
The kid is captured on twitter at the finish line ahead of other racers who started an hour earlier. People send me his finishing photo. I post it on Facebook. People love it.
The news story is the talk of the day, perhaps the week. It goes viral. People can’t get enough about the last marathoner. It’s a feel good story.
I felt great about the story and I was glad I told it. But that was a month ago.
Suddenly the story is coming full circle with a phone call from a well known law maker who at this very moment is just a dad talking to another dad.
Representative Sanford proceeds to tell me that his son was so upset, and then I told his story. He tells me how the video has gone viral in South Carolina, and how he felt it was a great story. Then the politician with the checkered past laughs out loud, wondering as any dad would, how his kid can over sleep for a marathon.
We both laugh.
“All those alarm clocks,” I say.
Regardless he tells me that the story made a huge difference in his son’s life.
That’s when I truly understood. This man had called to thank me as a father.
I told him that his son and his story were the high lights of my cold and wet day, and I was happy to tell that story.
“Well thank you again,” he said politely.
As I hung up, I was a little over whelmed.
Wow, I thought to myself. This man took the time to find my number, to call me, to talk to me like a father, to express gratitude.
I only told a few people in the news room about the call. I was having a terrible day. The call really lifted mys pirits.
Those I told all had the same expression.
Yeah I remember him. and Wow.
It just goes to show you that random acts of kindness can travel around the universe picking up speed, catching some angel dust and sprinkling it across the globe.
Sometimes you never know what your simple action can do.
Then sometimes you get a call from the United States Capitol and a man in a position of power simply says;
Thank You.
Life’s Crazy™