For just one day, officially, Philadelphia is kind
David Puryear didn't need an official Day of Kindness in order to be kind. "Every day should be a day of kindness," he said, pausing as he blew his saxophone at Third and Market Streets, and thanking people who dropped pocket change into his instrument case. "There's small things we can do to make a difference."
David Puryear didn't need an official Day of Kindness in order to be kind.
"Every day should be a day of kindness," he said, pausing as he blew his saxophone at Third and Market Streets, and thanking people who dropped pocket change into his instrument case. "There's small things we can do to make a difference."
College student Jessica Cavallaro participated virtually, pressing an online campaign that encourages people to treat one another gently.
At City Hall, the day's signature musical celebration drew about 75 people, who gathered in the courtyard under a canopy of peace flags.
"The day has gone spectacularly well," said J Nathan Bazzel, executive director of the event. "Philadelphia is embracing it, slowly but surely."
On Tuesday, a city renowned for boorish behavior tried a little harder - or at least many people did. Organizers said they hoped the Day of Kindness would be held annually.
"I think it's a really good idea," said Natalie Faragalli, 24, of South Philadelphia, who joined others in the courtyard.
Was she especially kind Tuesday?
"I hope so," she said. "I held a couple of doors for people."
Not everyone could be there in person.
Cavallaro, a 19-year-old communications major at St. Joseph's University, took part through her City Kindness website. There, she shares stories of compassion and encourages people to do what they can for others.
Maybe that's as simple as remembering to say please and thank you. Or buying lunch for somebody who is short on cash.
She thinks, in the battle of good vs. evil, or at least good vs. rudeness, positive forces are winning. No one has mocked her blog. Just the opposite: Many have reached out in support.
"There's so much hate and argument throughout the world," the central New Jersey native said, "that [people appreciate] having concrete examples and places where you can show love and kindness."
The day sought to spur rough-hewn Philadelphians to smile, embrace one another, and support organizations that do good works.
The 3,000 handmade peace flags in the City Hall art installation, Kindness in the Wind, will stay up until Nov. 14. Planners hope the spirit of the Day of Kindness will last at least a month.
A website, www.adayofkindness.org, offers space for people to share stories and seeks to match nonprofit organizations with volunteers.
It was inspiration from the Dalai Lama, who was awarded the Liberty Medal on Monday, that helped spur the Day of Kindness. Local Buddhists sought to honor him with a day to spread care and compassion.
The 80-year-old religious leader had to cancel his visit for health reasons, but the Day of Kindness went on, celebrating his philosophy, the recent visit of Pope Francis, and, not least, the 333d anniversary of William Penn's founding of Philadelphia.
At a South Philadelphia car-impoundment lot, a place where the sun of human compassion often shines weakly, Tuesday was just another day of the week.
Karen McGilver, who knew of the Day of Kindness, felt both frustrated and grateful as she tried to retrieve her car. It was towed there after a driver on a cellphone rear-ended another car on I-95, causing a chain reaction that wrecked her Dodge Caliber, being driven by her 19-year-old daughter.
"Frustrated," McGilver said as she dealt with paperwork, lawyers, and insurance companies.
On the other hand, she said, her daughter could have been killed. "I thank God she's still here," McGilver said.
A few blocks to the north, Puryear, 67, posted a sign beside his performance spot. It read: "Love is who you are, ego is who you think you are."
Every day, as he plays the sax, he observes people around him. He's seen business executives walk a block out of their way to drop money in his box. And watched bus drivers speed away from people trying to catch a ride.
"We forget about just being human," he said.
No one can change the world, Puryear said, "but I can change me."
215-854-4906 @JeffGammage