My Grandma Minnie Bell was a pioneer woman. She was the kind of person you would want to have around if you suddenly had to survive off the grid and on the land. She was a tiny woman at about four foot eight inches tall who never weighed more than eighty pounds, but she had the strength of a highly trained warrior. She handled large animals as though they were toy poodles. Her knowledge of plants, animals and survival skills was uncanny given that she was unable to read or write. She was composting and recycling long before it was popular to do such things to save the planet. She carried an encyclopedia of nature and botany in her head. 

I always loved Granda Minnie Bell because she was a gentle soul who appreciated everything about the world and its people. She and my mother both taught me the importance of honoring every person that I would ever encounter. Those two ladies regarded even the humblest soul as a person equal to kings or presidents. They often reminded me to look for beauty where there sometimes appeared to be only ugliness. 

I suppose that those two incredible women gave me an incalcuably valuable gift when they demonstrated by their own behavior how to genuinely respect all of the people I would ever encounter. Somehow they looked beyond superficiality to find the character of the souls who share this earth with us. Those two women seemed to be filled with boundless and unconditional love. 

Once my grandmother took me to visit one of her neighbors in the hills of Arkansas. I suppose she realized that I might be stunned by the visible poverty of the woman who had invited us to her home, so she prepared me by describing the lady as someone that she greatly admired. Grandma insisted that I remember to show the utmost respect for her friend. 

I understood why Grandma had prepared me as soon as we turned down a drive leading to the woman’s home. It was a dreary place in need of paint and repair. It looked as though the people who lived there had abandoned all hope. Nonetheless children ran happily in the yard laughing and seeming not to be aware of their dire circumstances. 

The house was so tiny that it seemed hardly sufficient for one person much less a big brood, but it was tidy inside and filled with the aroma of a pine based cleaner. The woman greeted us with a beautiful smile and a sense of excitement on having guests. She wore a threadbare dress that had once been lovely but now showed signs of age. Still she was neat and beautiful even though the years of want had aged her more than might otherwise have been the case. Her hands were raw and calloused from hard work but her eyes were still bright even as they showed the worry that stalked her as she attempted to keep her household running and her children fed. 

She gave us glasses of room temperature water, serving them as though she was offering a fine expensive wine. She sat primly across from us chattering gaily with my grandmother. The two ladies exchanged news and stories like two school girls. I learned that the woman’s older sons were serving in the army. She proudly boasted that they wrote her letters every week and now and then sent her money to help with the rest of the family. She thanked Grandma for the canned vegetables and fruits that had been a big hit at family dinners. She seemed so happy to be pausing from her chores to entertain us. I saw how right my grandmother was to hold the woman in high esteem. 

So too it was with my mother who seemed to find something quite wonderful about every person she encountered. Like Grandma Minnie Bell my mama looked past all of the artificial ways that we often use to evaluate the worth of a person. She was unimpressed with material achievements. She would expound on how important each of us is in the grand scheme of the world. 

I spent most of my years in education working in schools with the children of immigrant parents who often spoke no English and had little formal education. Some of those parents had to work sixteen hours a day. Their jobs were those that require stamina. They did those things for their children. They wanted their sons and daughters to one day enjoy what they saw as the American Dream. I valued those wonderful men and women for their love of family and their willingness to do the kinds of jobs that few of us would want to do. I saw beyond their poverty and lack of formal learning. I often told their children how fortunate they were to have such wonderful parents. I sincerely valued and respected them just as my grandmother and mother would have wanted me to do.

Sometimes the most industrious and determined people are almost invisible to us. They toil each day without much notice. They are the people who clean and dig and gather the refuse that we blithely throw away. The tend to be nameless and faceless to us but without them our world would be chaotic. They are the women who sweep the floors and clean off the tables in our favorite restaurants. They are the young men who take extra care to bag our groceries. They are the cashiers who politely listen to harangues from unhappy customers, the men digging trenches to drain our streets. They are incredible people. See them. Smile at them. Thank them. Respect them. Grandma Minnie Bell and my Mama would also tell you to honor them.