Random Acts of Rainbows

Thoughts during The Hunker Games©

bjo
4 min readApr 4, 2020

As we individually navigate our socially-distanced moves during these unsettling and unprecedented times, a walk through my new neighborhood in Richmond, Virginia prompted me to sit down and pound this out.

Determined to “stay in the moment” during my perambulation, I left my ear buds and my music at home in an effort to pay attention to something other than the Hamilton soundtrack. As I passed a home on 39th Street, two colorful drawings taped in the windows caught my eye and made me smile.

The rare double rainbow!

They were drawings of rainbows, obviously created by a budding artist. Their sweet innocence got me thinking about how such a simple act can exponentially spread such cheer: The child who drew the rainbow surely enjoyed the moment; the parent who helped hang the masterpieces in the windows experienced a shared moment of love; and now, passersby like me could know a moment of connection with the home’s unknown residents.

Once back inside my own home, I learned through our neighborhood Facebook page that other children throughout Church Hill were hanging their own rainbows as a way to communicate joy. And, parents were using the rainbow installments as part of a treasure hunt as they took their children on walks.

How cool is that? One simple act multiplies and spreads. One simple act sparks a connection between strangers that might then generate multiple acts of random kindness. That’s what we need right now. Simple and random acts to let each other know that it’s going to be okay. It’s going to get better.

Can there be any doubt if the wisdom stems from the crayons of babes? Everything is going to be OK.

Here are a few more examples that I’ve stumbled across:

Teachers in Bentonville, Arkansas decorated their cars and organized a parade for their students, who cheered them on from front lawns and sidewalks.

The New York Times reports on a group of 20-somethings in Boston who put their heads together to create a mutual-aid network that has now expanded across the country. People who need help are connecting with people who want to help — with donations of food, clothing, money or emotional support.

A middle-school teacher in Salt Lake City organized more than 100 teens who wrote letters to elderly residents of a care center who were cut off from visitors because of the coronavirus. According to an article in the Washington Post, the teacher wanted to “give my kids something to do right now that is bigger than themselves.”

This pandemic is bigger than any single one of us. But by hanging together — again, properly socially distanced — WE are bigger than Covid-19. Way bigger.

So, do what you can. Call out a thank you to the FedEx driver when he drops off the essential items that you ordered from the sanitized safety of your home. Wave to the Metro bus driver as she passes you. Scroll through your contact list and shoot a text to a friend or former colleague who you haven’t connected with in a while. An unexpected “I’m thinking of you. Hope you’re well.” message creates a Hallmark® moment that didn’t cost a dime.

Last Saturday, I received a text from a neighbor, letting me know that another neighbor’s daughter — who was to have been married on St. Patrick’s Day (her birthday) in DisneyWorld — would be married instead on Sunday in the park across the street. Unbeknownst to the bride or her family, plans were afoot to decorate the front of her parent’s home with green ribbons, flowers and shamrocks while the ceremony was taking place.

As the newlyweds walked back from the park, they were greeted with applause by a dozen or so neighbors occupying chalk-marked spots on the sidewalk to ensure six-foot safety. We had each brought our own champagne flutes to offer up a toast. The ensuing sense of community was as sparkling as the liquid poured into our glasses, and more than a few of us had tears in our eyes.

As a young history nerd, learning about the 1918 influenza pandemic and the Black Death and similar global horror stories, I wondered how in the world people survived through those disasters. Now I’m learning first-hand. We all are. And it feels very scary.

Yet I’ve also learned how, as a nation, we’ve always stepped up in moments like this. Right now, we all need to step up and share random acts of rainbows. I’m convinced that, when this is over, we’re going to discover that we’re a kinder, stronger nation because of what we’ve come through as a nation. And that’s a 24-karat life experience that no amount of gold can buy.

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bjo

I’m a left-handed, right-brained creative type, navigating the third half of my life without a map.