Frank’s New Approach to Accepting Help

It’s More “Give” Than “Take”

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Frank was running low on gas and was still 20 miles from home. It was a dark and cold November afternoon in 1993. He didn't want to stop to gas up because he was listening to an important University of Wisconsin/Ohio State football game on his car radio and wanted to get home to watch it on TV with his wife, Kate.

Besides, Frank dreaded self-service gas stations – largely because they were not service stations anymore. Full service stations were a rarity, and Frank had the location of every one of them along his frequently traveled routes mapped out in his mind.

But, filling his car with gas was no big deal. Frank did it all the time. So, he pulled off the freeway, deciding to stop at a new Amoco station which took credit cards at the pump.

How convenient, Frank thought. Paying at the pump will, at least, save him time (getting his crutches out of the car, walking to the store's counter, fiddling in his pants pocket to find his billfold etc. – all remnants of dealing with childhood polio he contracted in 1954).

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At the pump, Frank turned off the car but left his radio on and the car door open, thinking he would listen to the game while taking only a few minutes to fill his tank.

Fully aware of his lack of technological knowledge, Frank carefully read the instructions on the pump, popped the most common credit card he had into the machine and watched for instructions. Card not valid, it replied. A second and a third try yielded the same results.

Ohio State was on Wisconsin's 10-yard line.

Frank finally pushed, "Pay Inside," filled his gas tank and popped back into the car to drive up to the convenience store's front door.

His car wouldn't start.

It was then that Frank realized that he had left his headlights on. He turned both the lights and radio off and tried again. Nothing. Were the batteries that weak? Frank had just had his 1990 Maxima winterized the day before.

He sat there for a minute, thinking it would turn over after a little bit of rest. No. It was dead.

The people inside the store were watching. Frank could feel it. He could imagine what they were saying inside the store. Something like, "The guy doesn't have a brain in his head."

Suddenly, a woman from inside the store popped out in a ragged coat, swept up to Frank's window, grabbed his credit card, and ran back to the store.

When she returned with his receipt, she realized Frank had worn the battery down even more. "Just stay in the car," she said, the chilly wind blowing her graying hair. "I'll jump ya."

She went back to the store and came out, ran to what Frank assumed was her personal car (a rusty vintage-70s Pontiac), parked it nose-to-nose with his car and placed her jumper cables on Frank's terminals.

He tried to start his car again. Nothing.

She ran back to the store, and Frank began looking for his AAA card and how much cash he had.

But, then, suddenly she was back. She switched the jumper cables on Frank's terminals, he turned the key on his ignition, and his car started.

Frank handed her a $10 bill with a "thank you." His words seemed hollow. She wouldn't take the money at first, but Frank insisted.

Another motorist in the next lane, who had watched the whole episode while she was gassing up, summed it up better. "That's service," she cheerfully called out to the pair.

That night, Frank wrote in his diary:

"We all need experiences that validate what is good about us, but we don't always get them or recognize them in our daily rush.

"I'm sometimes in a position of quiet desperation -- in real need of help, and many times there is that special someone who takes a few minutes to truly help me.

"As our paths cross, we provide a 'jump start' for each other and then go our separate ways -- renewed with the spark of what it is to be human. We leave each other with a feeling of completeness we all long for but seldom experience on a daily basis.

"Those 'jump starts' often stick with us and recharge us every time we remember them."

Now at 77, Frank remains healthy but has a lengthy list of similar instances when strangers took the time to help him when he was truly in trouble. But he no longer feels obligated to compensate those who help with a cash handout.

“We rise by lifting others.” – Robert G. Ingersoll

He now believes the simple gift of giving generates a blissful feeling that can linger well beyond the actual episode. 

In fact, age has taught him that embracing one's vulnerability and receiving help gracefully from others is an act of lasting love that can live beyond one's years.

Frank's takeaway tip from his story: Give others an opportunity to achieve a feeling of completeness by gracefully accepting their help.