The strange kindness of strangers.

Rumour has it that I like South Sydney.

So much so that strangers have taken to making me things for my altar at work.
Red and green things.

I have an Aboriginal player doll, a blonde South Sydney Cinderella doll, a Souths bunny doll, a tea cosy that looks exactly like a waratah, a few little bears with knitted jerseys - one as a replacement for one I gave to a small child at work who fell in love with it.
His parents bought 20 other bears trying to capture his interest, but no.
He remained staunch.

His mother, Christine would ring me before she came in and ask me to take the bear off my counter, hoping to spare herself a tantrum.
It didn't work.
He could feel it's magnificent presence.

I even went and bought a new bear for him myself - identical except that he has Warriors jersey on rather than Souths one.
Not fooled for a second.

In the end I gave the Souths one to him and he cried with joy.

I had a phone call a couple of weeks later to tell me that he sleeps with it, eats with it and it's the first and last thing he asks for each and every day.

I told his mother to let her husband know that his son was destined to be a Souths supporter.
He was unimpressed.
Or dare I say it, intimidated.
Not everyone can cope with spawning such greatness.
He'll learn.

The weirdest thing I've been given (made) is a Souths tunic which currently on my promotional Comvite honey bear.
A good customer, Marlies knits them and sends them to Africa so that they have something to put on the babies who die from AIDS with such monotonous regularity over there, rather than throwing them naked into a hole.

What kind of world do we live in?

Whatever kind it is, you can always depend on the kindness of strangers.