Thank You

By Shannon

Have you ever tried to thank a soldier who was waiting in an airport or sitting in a restaurant?  They are so polite, but seem almost embarrassed to be thanked for doing their jobs.  I've noticed they are way more comfortable answering questions about what it is like in Afghanistan or Iraq than they are accepting the gratitude of one citizen. 

I saw that same response in New York City in the years after 9/11.  I remember taking my mother to NYC while I was in law school on the east coast.  It was about 16 months after 9/11.  My mother is a true southerner and will strike up a conversation with anyone.  I believe she could get a telephone pole to talk to her if she tried.  We were in a coffee shop in near Ground Zero and I needed to use the restroom.  I got our coffees and sat my mom in a corner at a table.  "Don't talk to anyone, Mom.  I'll be right back," I said before I walked the five steps to the restroom.  It wasn't that NYC is dangerous, it was just clear to anyone who heard us that we were tourists.  Tourists are always targets anywhere, so it's best to be on guard and stay on the DL.  By the way, it was my mother who taught me that (and Ann who reinforced it before my first trip to NYC).  I rushed into the restroom and took care of business as fast as possible.  As I came out, I heard her voice with her very non-NYC accent.  I looked and saw that she was not merely talking to one or two strangers, but my mother – the woman who taught me about "stranger danger" as a child - was surrounded by 6 or 7 New Yorkers wanting to hear her accent.  She was more than happy to oblige.  "Mom, I told you not to talk to strangers," I said as we walked out of the coffee shop.  "They wanted to hear me talk," she responded.  "Mom, for them to even know you had an accent they wanted to hear you had to have talked to a stranger."  I'm laughing now as I chuckled then. 

Wait.  I think I got off-topic there for a minute.  Anyway…

During that trip my Mom was hell-bent on meeting a NYC police officer and getting her picture taken with the officer.  Once we got hopelessly lost in Downtown, we saw two officers casually chatting.  I had not let her talk to officers who seemed on guard at Ground Zero or anywhere else.  Before I could do anything my mother ran to these two officers and thanked them and asked to have her picture taken with one.  The officer who had a distinct Russian-Brooklyn accent kindly and humbly obliged.  I apologized for the interruption in his day and he told us that it was a common one now.  As kind as he was, he seemed embarrassed as he acknowledged our thanks. 

Once I told a judge in front of a Border Patrol Agent that though this Agent had had the opportunity to leave the border, this man had decided to stay at the border and help defend the security of our nation.  The Agent seemed so humbly embarrassed when he heard my description of his job.  I know this man and he is not humble by nature.  Later when the judge thanked him for his service, he actually blushed and looked down as he mumbled, "No problem."

I couldn't really understand all of this humility in the face of gratitude.  Personally I love praise.  When I win a trial and a victim thanks me I get a little embarrassed, but I still have no problem looking them in the face and saying, "You're welcome."  I never understood it until recently.  I ran into a little boutique shop on Friday when I had a minute to kill in between appointments.  The owner struck up a conversation and then she asked me what I did.  I told her without thinking anything of it - after all, I've answered that question a million times.  This woman though, she stopped fussing with bags and receipts and looked me straight in the eye.  With a look of genuine gratitude she said sincerely, "Thank you for all you do for us."  Wow!  I’m not a soldier or Agent.  I don't carry a gun or risk my life.  I’m just a lawyer and I'd done nothing specifically for this particular woman.  I mean she didn't know about the man the cops caught and I'd recently sent to prison who was tied to about 30 home burglaries per month for the better part of a year.  She didn't know that with him gone we've gone down to about 1 burglary each month.  She's never been touched by the drug trafficking or gang violence that I prosecute regularly.  She was simply grateful to me in the abstract and she let her thanks be known.  I was SO humbled.  This time it was my turn to drop my head, blush, and embarrassedly mumble, "Um, no problem, really."