Small Things

Early last week, someone stole the catalytic converter off of my truck, which was parked in the office lot.

For those of you who don't know, the catalytic converter is the part of a vehicle's exhaust system that converts polluting gases into less harmful emissions. It sits between the engine and the muffler. And it also, apparently, contains platinum -- the magnet drawing thieves to cut them from vehicles that sit a little higher off the ground and are easy to get under with a Sawzall or similar cutting tool. You know, like an SUV.

Catalytic converters are also expensive to replace. While a thief might get somewhere around $100 per part on the black market, those of us who have to buy the parts legitimately pay around $500-$600 for them. Not to mention installation, which doubles the cost -- or more, depending on how the part is attached to the vehicle (bolted on or welded).

Expense -- and inconvenience -- aside, I also suffer from embarrassment every time my truck roars to life in the morning on my way to work or in the grocery parking lot. The noise and vibration are maddening on trips longer than a few miles and make listening to NPR (or, for that matter, music of any kind) virtually impossible.

But I'm whining. And that's not the point.


The point is that things must be pretty bad in someone's life if they are willing to risk jail time by crawling under a vehicle with a cutting tool and stealing a part that will get them less than $100. This is apparently an issue around the entire country, as I've talked to people from several states to whom this has happened or who have heard about its happening to someone they know. The economic downturn is forcing people to become rather creative in their dishonesty.

In the western suburb of Detroit, where my best friend has been unemployed for nearly 2 years now and the unemployment rate is ghastly, there's another kind of creativity at work.

At gas stations and oil change shops, workers offer to pass along customers' resumes to other customers who are looking to fill positions in their companies. Libraries host free resume writing workshops and computer skill-building classes. Ikea stores offer free breakfast on the weekends to anyone who wants (or needs) to eat. Restaurants offer "pay-what-you-can" meals once a week. Skilled laborers -- plumbers, electricians, carpenters -- who are willing to barter for their services, sometimes to the tune of a 6-pack of beer if the repair is small.

There is a feeling of community, of pulling together, of empathy for one another's predicaments. There are people and communities who understand that they must stand united -- or fall apart.

Don't get me wrong: Detroit and its suburbs are not, as a whole, shining utopias of morality and generosity. But there are glittering little pockets where small miracles happen every day. And it's the small things here at home that give me hope: the woman in the grocery store who let me use her discount card because I'd forgotten mine; the man who blessed me as he passed because he heard me sneeze; the couple who offered my dogs and me shelter on their porch when we were caught in a sudden downpour. The woman in the Starbucks drive-thru who notices that the person in the car behind her (me) seems stressed-out and pays for her coffee. A gift of flower seeds left on my porch by someone who loves my gardens.

Small things. Tiny acts of generosity and kindness. Taken together, they can become something bigger than themselves.

As for me, my fantasies of revenge against the thief who cost me so much money have cooled from wondering how to set up a device which would spray him with acid and fire nails at him if he tried it again to simply holding his head under water. In a dirty toilet. But just for a minute or two.

I'm guessing that compassion and forgiveness will soon follow.