Last weekend I stood in the pouring rain for 6 hours for a concert my husband wanted to see. I did not count that as an act of kindness because I said that supporting your spouse's desire to see the Eagles once in his lifetime is just something you do when you're married. Instead my act of kindness that day involved the bathroom (see “How Do You Spell Relief," June 13th).
Not this time. It's Father's Day. My husband asked that the four of us go for a short family hike. Seemed easy enough. As we drove toward the trail head, it was getting darker. And darker. Thunder rumbled. Lightning flashed. “Maybe this isn't a good idea” I said. “It will be fun to walk in the rain” came the reply in three part harmony.
Off we went, me outvoted. It started out as a sprinkle. Not too bad I agreed. The sprinkle turned to rain. The rain turned to torrential downpour. The thunder was no longer distant; it was right on top of us. For most of the two miles, it felt as if someone had turned a hose on us.
As we returned to the car, three members of the hiking party whooped it up about how much fun it had been. The fourth member felt some consolation that she had committed her act of kindness for the day.
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