The Helmet

Acts of kindness are always remembered by their beneficiaries, how big or small they may be.

Before I tell you about this one, particular incident, it is better that I explain the background as to why this act of kindness took place at all.

Anticipating the mandatory annual spring field trip, it was decided that all ten year olds in school would go on a biking field trip. It was a pure stroke of genius from the faculty’s side. Not only would it be saving money on transport, as there was no need to rent buses for the purpose; It would also be a lot easier to keep track of disobedient children (such as me, who had wondered off and fallen into a pit of nettles the year before) if they were mounted on their bikes.

Someone employed at that school must have gotten a pretty groovy bonus that year.
Every kid in my year was sent home later that week with an information letter to the parents about the event. All children had to be equipped with field trip lunches (which in my case meant mayo-drenched sandwiches made from white bread, American style), a change of clothes (for hot weather, cold weather, rainy weather, hail storms…. A Swedish spring day can be very unpredictable), a bike (all kids in suburbs have one)… and…

A helmet.

“Well”, said my mother as she read the letter later that night. “Good thing you are all set. I will just have to buy food to make your lunch”.

Oh, dear.

Earlier that year, my mother had been at this enormous outlet type store just outside our town. I had been bugging her to buy me a helmet, just like the ones the other girls had. I had specified it had to be pink, and made of that plastic foam that helmets were made of back them. Everyone had one, and I wanted one too!
So there was my mother, shopping away at the outlet when she saw this sale box, full of helmets (pink) at less than half the price of the helmet I had showed her at the store.

Bargain!

She came home from the outlet, very excited, because she had bought me exactly what I wanted. Or so she thought.

For in her hand she had the ugliest looking helmet I had ever seen. Besides the fact that it said *SCHWOOSH” on the side of it in giant yellow letters, it was completely square. Remember how helmets back then sort of followed the curves of your head? Well this one didn’t, unless you happened to be Frankenstein’s monster. Completely square. To top it off, it was several sizes too big for my little head. I looked at her in disappointment. This was the best she could do?!

To this day, my mother says that she could never win when it came to presents for us. We are just never pleased. Us daughters have come to terms with the fact that she never could see the difference between things. Mainly because it really doesn’t matter anymore.

It sure did back then, though.

Nevertheless, in an attempt to please my mother, I wore the helmet to bike around the neighborhood. I hadn’t gone more than a few blocks when the first children started laughing and pointing at me. That did it. I tossed that silly thing in a dark corner of the garden shed and forgot all about it.

Nobody had given it a single thought ever since. But then came the field trip.
For weeks I was in agony about what yet to come. A field trip from hell. Every man and his dog were going to laugh at that stupid outlet helmet. I wanted to drop off the face of the earth.

One day, as I was putting on my jacket after a day at school, I felt a pair of eyes in my neck. I spun around to find a girl in my class contemplating me. As I was still fairly new to this class, I had not talked much to her before. And there she was, looking at me.

-“is something the matter?” she asked

Now, I didn’t really know this girl at the time, but for some reason it all came bursting out. Weeks of despair. I found myself telling her all about the square helmet, my fear of being laughed at, and the incomprehension of my mother.

“Don’t worry” the girl said, after listening to my story. “I have a spare helmet at home you can have”.

And so we walked off to her house, to find that her spare helmet was exactly the sort of helmet I always had wanted. Pink, curvy shaped. I was in heaven.

“You can have it” she said. “It’s yours to keep”.

The field trip did not seem so bad anymore. I had found a new friend. I have never forgotten this one act of selfless kindness, very unusual for a ten year old.
She saved my field trip. This incident has stuck with me for eighteen years.

Thanks for the helmet, friend. You know who you are.