Why have we changed so much? When I was a child, people were kinder…
I’ve been pondering this for a long time.
Once upon a time, the world was different. People were different.
I remember when kindness wasn’t just a pretty word, but a way of life.
Nobody expected thanks for lending a helping hand back then.
Nobody would turn away indifferently from someone else’s misfortune.
I saw neighbors helping one another, not because “they had to,” but simply because it was the right thing to do.
But now?
I merely asked for three pears…
I live in a small village.
A modest house and a meager pension, yet it suffices.
It’s peaceful and quiet here, surrounded by nature – just what I need.
A few days ago, I was walking down the road and noticed a very large tree laden with pears.
Ripe and golden, they hung heavily, and beneath the tree lay a carpet of fallen fruit.
Nearby, the owner of the orchard, an elderly man around my age, was working.
I greeted him and politely asked:
— Would it be alright to take a couple of pears? They look so tempting!
One would think it would be simple enough.
But his reaction…
He turned around sharply and looked at me so harshly that I felt uneasy for a moment.
— Sold! — he snapped. — A customer will be picking them up soon!
I couldn’t even get a word in.
He turned away from me, as if I were a beggar trying to grab his fortune.
I walked away, feeling like a wrongdoer.
A wrongdoer for simply asking for three pears.
When did people stop being people?
I recalled as a child having a large apple tree in the courtyard.
It grew between two houses, and anyone could pick an apple — no one asked, no one divided, no one forbade.
Neighbors, if anyone was in need, would bring bags of potatoes, milk, and bread.
If something unfortunate happened, everyone would come together to help however they could.
And now?
Now we count every penny.
Now we’ve become bitter, greedy, fearful that someone else might get more than us.
We hide our orchards, our harvests, our savings as if we could take them to the grave with us.
The old neighbor and the apples…
I remembered an incident from many years ago.
A boy from the neighboring house asked an old man for an apple.
The lonely old man lived in his house, with an apple tree so full of fruit that they rotted beneath it.
The boy wasn’t stealing.
He didn’t sneak into the garden.
He asked politely.
But the old man flew into a rage.
He grabbed a stick, waved it, and yelled that if anyone came near his apple trees again, he’d “kill them all.”
The boy ran away in tears.
And the old man lived a few more years.
Then he was gone.
The apples he so fiercely protected rotted away.
When he left, he took nothing with him—neither his garden, nor his greed, nor his loud voice.
The apple trees are abandoned now.
But sometimes, when I pass by his house, I wonder: was it worth it?
Where did we lose our kindness?
I look at our world and don’t recognize it.
Somewhere along the way, we lost something important.
When I was a child, I was taught that people should help each other.
That if you have an extra piece of bread, you should share it.
That if you have a garden full of fruit, you should give at least one to someone who asks.
My mother always said:
— If you can do a good deed, do it. It will come back to you.
And I saw it.
I saw people helping each other, and then receiving help themselves.
I saw how kindness was passed from one to another, like a boomerang.
But now…
Now we measure everything in pounds.
We’re afraid someone will take advantage of our kindness.
We trust no one, even those who just ask for a pear.
We’ve built fences — around our homes, around our hearts.
But life isn’t about money
No matter how much we have, we will still leave with empty hands.
We can’t take our harvest, our bank account, or the square footage of our house with us.
But we could leave warmth behind.
We could hand down what makes us human to others.
Instead, we leave in a chill, filled with distrust, anger, and envy.
I don’t know if this can be changed.
But I know one thing:
If you can do a good deed, do it.
At least so you don’t leave with clenched teeth and an empty heart.
