Why have we changed so much? When I was a child, people were kinder… I’ve been wondering about this for a long time.
The world was different then. People were different.
I remember a time when kindness wasn’t just a nice word, it was a way of life.
No one expected thanks for helping others.
No one turned a blind eye to someone else’s troubles.
I watched as neighbors helped each other out—not because they had to, but simply because it was the right thing to do.
But now?
I simply asked for three pears…
I live in a small village.
A modest house, a tiny pension, but it’s enough for me.
It’s quiet, peaceful, close to nature—just what I need.
A few days ago, I was walking down the lane and saw a grand tree laden with pears.
Ripe and yellow, they hung in heavy clusters, with a carpet of fallen fruit underneath.
The owner of the garden, an elderly man about my age, was working nearby.
I greeted him and politely asked, “Mate, may I take a couple of pears? They look so tempting!”
It seemed a simple enough question.
But his reaction…
He turned sharply and glared at me so intensely that I felt uneasy for a moment.
“Sold!” he barked. “A buyer is coming to collect them soon!”
I didn’t even have a chance to say anything else.
He turned away, as if I were a beggar threatening his fortune.
I walked on, feeling like a criminal.
A criminal for merely asking for a few pears.
When did people stop being human?
I recalled my childhood, where a huge apple tree stood in our courtyard.
It grew between two houses, and anyone could pick an apple – no asking, no dividing, no forbidding.
Neighbors, if someone was in need, would bring sacks of potatoes, milk, bread.
If misfortune struck, everyone would gather to help in any way they could.
But now?
Now we count every penny.
Now we’re bitter, greedy, frightened that someone might have more than us.
We hide our gardens, our crops, our savings, as if we’ll take them with us to the grave.
An old neighbor and apples…
I recalled an event from many years back.
A boy from a nearby house asked an old man for an apple.
The lonely elder lived alone, and his apple tree was so full of fruit that many were rotting on the ground.
The boy wasn’t stealing.
He didn’t sneak into the garden.
He asked nicely.
But the old man was furious.
He grabbed a stick, waving it and yelling that if anyone came near his apple trees again, he’d “see them off.”
The boy ran off in tears.
The old man lived on for a few more years.
Then he was gone.
And the apples he so fiercely guarded rotted away.
With him, nothing was lost—neither his garden, nor his greed, nor his harsh voice.
The apple trees are abandoned now.
But sometimes, as I pass his house, I wonder: was it worth it?
Where did we lose our kindness?
I look around at our world and hardly recognize it.
Somewhere along the way, we lost something important.
When I was young, I was taught that a person should help their neighbor.
That if you have an extra slice of bread—you should share it.
If your garden is full of fruit—give at least one to someone who asks.
My mum always said:
“If you can do a good deed—do it. It will surely come back to you.”
And I saw that.
I saw people helping one another—and then receiving help themselves.
I saw kindness passed on—like a boomerang.
But now…
Now everything is measured in money.
We fear someone will take advantage of us.
We don’t trust anyone, not even someone merely asking 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’ll leave with empty hands.
We won’t take with us crops, bank accounts, or square meters of a flat.
But we could leave warmth behind.
We could pass on what makes us human.
Yet instead we head into a cold, full of distrust, anger, and envy.
I don’t know if it can be fixed.
But one thing I do know:
If you can do a good deed—do it.
At least so you don’t leave with clenched teeth and an empty heart.
