Before my parents and sister could come to America, they waited in Italy for the immigration papers. My sister was a year old, and my parents pushed her around in a flimsy stroller.
One day a wheel snapped. They had no tools, no spare parts, nothing. My father took the stroller to a nearby auto shop and asked if anyone could help. A few mechanics looked it over and patched it up on the spot.
My dad, coming from the USSR, knew what came next: he had no options and no leverage, and the mechanics would squeeze him for all the money he had on him. With no options, he would pay. Instead, the mechanics just smiled and waved it away.
My father was stunned. It hadn’t even occurred to him that a stranger might simply help with no strings attached. He had never experienced that kind of plain generosity before.