Even in times like these, we have reasons to be thankful

It has been a challenging year.

We have witnessed racism against Black people. We have seen a rise in racial slurs against Asian Americans after the coronavirus hit. We have seen record unemployment. Parents have struggled to juggle work and their children's online learning. We have been consumed with learning how to work online. We have tried to stay connected to others while taking precautions to avoid spreading a disease that remains far from being under control. We have seen family members, neighbors and friends struggle after contracting the coronavirus and mourned after learning of another death. And we brace for what health experts warn us will be a devastating winter.

Not every challenge has been virus-related. The sorrow surrounding non-virus-related deaths has been multiplied by not being able to mourn in person together. We have spent weeks facing a constant barrage of voter fraud allegations and attempts to make our country's hallowed tradition of a transfer of presidential power neither smooth nor peaceful.

My father died in May. We mourned him virtually. Five months later, my sister died. She too we mourned via Zoom with a cemetery worker livestreaming the lowering of her casket. Neither death was COVID-related. Each loss left a wrenching hole in our lives.

In times like these, we can be left wondering whether there's anything to be thankful for. Nevertheless, we persist.

We can take heart that despite adverse conditions more than 150 million people turned out to vote, the highest percentage in more than a century. We can give thanks for the thousands of health care workers who continue to treat those afflicted with the virus. We can rejoice that at least two companies seem to have developed a vaccine against the coronavirus. And we can be thankful for our many friends, relatives, neighbors, and colleagues who try to keep themselves and those around them safe.

I am thankful. Each of my father's children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren was able to attend his online service, something that would not have been possible had we held an in-person service. For months, my sister and I were able to talk every Sunday night via Zoom even though we were 1,400 miles apart. My youngest granddaughter started high school online. Her older sister made my life more interesting with her Instagram posts. My youngest grandson quarantined in an on-campus apartment with friends as they cooked for one another and he tackled his nemesis, chemistry, online. His brother, my oldest grandson, continued his work toward being commissioned as an officer in the U.S. Army upon graduation in May. And my wife saw her mental health counseling practice balloon as she mastered multiple online platforms to be able to work with her clients.

It sparks joy in me to continue to hear from readers and to work with an amazingly resilient group of students who refuse to let time-zone differences get in the way of their insatiable curiosity and their desire to learn.

In times like these, it feels as if it's the right thing to embrace those things for which we can be grateful without losing sight of the challenges that remain. "It's times like these," the poet Dave Grohl wrote, "you learn to live again." 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice, is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com. 

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2020 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

(PHOTO BY NANCY SEGLIN)

This Thanksgiving, share your random acts of kindness

A few years ago, a 61-year-old reader we're calling Rebecca stopped by her local gas station/convenience market in Guerneville, Calif., to buy gasoline for her automobile on Thanksgiving morning. She walked into the market, gave the clerk the $12 cash she had on her, and then walked outside to pump her gas.

"I wasn't paying attention to the amount of gas going into my car," wrote Rebecca. "I finally looked up at the pump and it was going past $13!" Concerned she was taking gas she hadn't paid for and that she didn't have any cash to pay more, she stopped pumping and tried to make eye contact with the clerk.

As she was doing this, a young man in his twenties walking by smiled at her and said, "I put $5 on your account." Without breaking stride, the young man continued to walk to his truck, get in, and drive away. Rebecca kept pumping until the gas pump reached $17.

Stories of random acts of kindness are always worth noting. We're of course not obligated to lend a hand to make a stranger's life a bit more bearable, but when we do it has an amazing capacity to spark a bit of unexpected joy.

Rebecca noticed the young man was driving a delivery truck for a local oil company. "I sent his office an email and then called the next morning to make sure his boss was aware of the kindness of one of his employees."

Rebecca wrote that while $5.00 doesn't sound like much money, it was still $5 worth of gas more than she would have had. "It meant the world to me." She figured she'd be able to go an extra 50 miles on the gas he paid for.

But she pointed out that it wasn't just the extra gasoline that meant so much to her. "It was the randomness of his kind gesture, his nice smile, and that he did it without expecting anything in return."

I'm fond of the quote which states that character (sometimes "integrity") is "how you behave when no one is looking." Sure, Rebecca's benefactor was not anonymous but no one would have been the wiser if he had simply settled his own bill at the gas station without putting a little something extra into Rebecca's car's tank.

The young man expected nothing in return, but Rebecca did the right thing by thanking the young man and letting his boss know about his kindness. She'd been grumpy that day, she wrote, and the young man's gesture made her feel happy. It makes me feel happy too.

Now, it's time to tell me your story. What story from your life captures a moment when you stepped up to do the right thing for someone else, regardless of whether you received recognition? Or, when have you been the recipient of such an act? 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice, is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need to have answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com. 

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2020 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Applause for restaurants' efforts to feed poll volunteers and fuel democracy

My son and daughter each volunteered to work shifts at polling places on Election Day. My son pulled a 16-hour shift at a polling place outside of Richmond, Virginia, and my daughter put in 12 hours just south of Boston. Each reported a steady stream of voters and minimal issues (a request for a mask to be worn here, an ask to remove a campaign hat there). I am proud of them and appreciate the hundreds of other volunteer poll workers around the country who put in the time to ensure that, as my son says, "democracy wins."

Up in Massachusetts, the poll workers were offered via Twitter a free bowl or pita from Cava, a cafe chain with restaurants in Texas, Southern California, and the East Coast. The day before the election, Cava tweeted: "Let's hear it for poll workers! To say thanks this #ElectionDay, we're offering a free bowl or pita to poll workers when they show a badge at all locations."

A kind offer. The only problem was that many volunteers wouldn't be able to avail themselves of the Election Day offer because they were working from dawn to dusk. What's the right thing to do when a generous offer to recognize good works doesn't quite succeed at distributing the intended reward?

In the case of Cava's slightly misguided poll worker incentive, the response tweets came immediately, including this one from my son-in-law: "Dear @cava, how about offering this to #pollworkers for the day AFTER the #election, when they're not working 14-hour shifts and may actually have time to get to your restaurants?"

Within an hour, Cava responded, thanking him for raising the issue and tweeting: "Our offer lasts through Friday at 10pm when our restaurants close."

Problem solved, you'd think. Not so quick. Many poll workers, including my daughter, weren't allowed to keep their badges so they couldn't flash them when they went to pick up the meal. More tweets ensued to point out the snag.

Cava tweeted back. "We will make this work for all poll workers ... We are happy to accept any form of verification, including name tag or the official polling assignment from the Board of Elections."

That took care of it and over the next few days tweets with thanks to Cava, some accompanied by photos of meals, were posted. Amanda from Washington D.C.'s bowl sitting next to her board of elections assignment letter looked particularly tasty.

Cava didn't care what party poll workers belonged to. It didn't care in what location they were volunteering. It saw the opportunity to offer thanks to those who went above and beyond to perform their civic duty. And when its offer went slightly awry, it moved swiftly to do the right thing and make sure the overture was a fulfilling gesture.

Other restaurants also stepped up to do what they could to encourage volunteers and voters. An effort called "Pizza to the Polls" delivered more than 16,000 free pizzas to voters waiting in lines to vote. It too didn't take into account what political party the recipients belonged to. A pizza doesn't care if you are Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Independent or any other party. In a nation that seems strongly divided politically, it's good to know that there are a few things that still unite people: food and recognizing those who worked hard to keep democracy alive. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice, is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com. 

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2020 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Should a racist act from high school be erased?

Sometimes - well, often - a reader's question ends up going in a direction I hadn't anticipated. 

"My heart is heavy," a reader from Virginia I'm calling "Frank" wrote to me several months ago. "From the deep recesses of my memory, I recalled a photo of my high school yearbook of someone in blackface."

Frank, who now lives several states away from where he attended high school almost 40 years ago, no longer owns a copy of his yearbook so he could not confirm his recollection. He donated his copy to the high school library after he found out that it was missing a copy from his graduation year. But he got in touch with a classmate who confirmed that "sadly it was true." It's important to note that the person in the photo isn't Frank, but another female classmate.

My initial thought upon reading the beginning of Frank's email was that he was going to ask me if he should report the photo to someone. Perhaps he was torn about whom to report it to since the female classmate is not an elected official nor in a position of power. Nevertheless, he writes, he is "angry and sad."

But Frank's question went a different direction. He wants to know if he should travel several states away to visit his old high school, ask to see the yearbook, and then "vandalize the page by tearing it out of the book."

Frank wants to protect his schoolmate from judgment about her past racist behavior by destroying evidence that it happened. But he realizes that simply destroying this one issue doesn't totally fix things because there are probably a couple of hundred other copies out there. Ripping the one page out doesn't destroy all the evidence.

"I could call the school district, but what would that do?" he asks.

Frank wants to know if it is more ethical to keep his mouth shut and hope the photo is not found for years in the future or if he should "quietly contact the school and ask them to cover the photo with an adhesive label." He fears that bringing up the issue at all will only bring harm.

Frank should not travel hundreds of miles to destroy a page in a yearbook in an effort to keep a photo in which a high school classmate was engaged in racist cultural appropriation from being discovered by others. If Frank's major concern is that the high school classmate might face repercussions if the photo is discovered, then at the very least the right thing for him to do is to contact that classmate to remind her of the photo's existence. She can then decide how to deal with that action she took years ago.

Simply destroying the photo doesn't erase the action that occurred. There is more damage to be done by making any effort to cover up racist acts. Frank's classmate should take responsibility for her past actions.

But so, too, should the school administrators and yearbook advisor for failing to have the judgment to remove the photo before it appeared and to use the episode as an opportunity to teach students why racism in all of its forms is abhorrent. Frank would do well to give the school the opportunity to do that now. But erasing it completely only serves to confirm George Santyana's warning that "Those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it." 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice, is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com. 

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2020 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.

Is it bragging to tell friends about good deeds?

In several city neighborhoods in Boston, community refrigerators have begun to be set up by volunteers in an effort to provide food for people who may be struggling to make ends meet. The volunteers get permission to install a refrigerator, use electricity, and make the refrigerator available to anyone 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. 

People from the community donate milk, eggs and other perishable items. Alongside the refrigerator are pantry shelves for donations of pre-packaged goods or other food items that don't need refrigeration. Whoever needs food can go to the refrigerator, check to see what's available, and take what they need.

The premise is not dissimilar from the Little Free Library movement where people build public bookcases for people to donate or take books. In the case of efforts like Boston Community Fridge, however, it's the body rather than the mind that is fed with the donations.

A reader we're calling Siobhan read about the refrigerators, noted that one had been installed near her neighborhood, and began to spend an extra $15 to $20 every couple of weeks when she went food shopping to stock up on food she could leave in the refrigerator or on the shelves. Each time she has made a drop off, before she leaves people arrive and take a can or carton.

"They are always quite nice," writes Siobhan. "It's rarely the same people I see taking food from the refrigerator."

Siobhan loves the idea of giving back particularly at a time when unemployment is higher than ever and people are struggling to make ends meet. She acknowledges how fortunate she feels to have a good job, a steady income and the ability to put food on her own table.

"I want to tell my friends about the fridges because I think it's such a great idea," writes Siobhan. But she worries that she might sound like she is bragging or acting self-righteous if she says to her friends, "I've been donating food to these community refrigerators. I think you should too."

"I know I'm privileged to have as much as I do," writes Siobhan, "and I don't want to come off sounding superior or judgmental just because I do this. I just think it's a good idea."

There's no reason for Siobhan not to tell her friends about the community refrigerators in the neighborhood. If, as she indicates, she mostly believes it's a good idea for those who have plenty to share with others who don't, then the right thing to do is to focus the conversation with her friends on the opportunity rather than on how much she has given over the past several weeks.

If Siobhan simply asks her friends: "Have you heard about Boston Community Fridge?" and lets the conversation flow from there, that's a great way to start. If the friends ask her whether she's donated food, she should certainly tell them. But by leading with an emphasis on the effort rather than on herself, she can rest easy that she is making her mention far more about giving to those in need than about bragging about a good deed. If all goes well, if her friends are able, they will drop off a thing of two as well. 

Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice, is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.

Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to jeffreyseglin@gmail.com. 

Follow him on Twitter @jseglin. 

(c) 2020 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by TRIBUNE CONTENT AGENCY, LLC.