I was eight at the time. I had just recently learned that my grandfather served during WWII as a bomber of a B-17. Super fucking excited, he never spoke of it.
I had done enough chores to earn some cash of my own and walked up to Peoples pharmacy, and there I saw it! In all it's glory, a model kit of a B-17. I had to have it! I was going to get that model for my grand dad if it was the last thing this boy ever did. It was a steal too, eight dollars! I ran up to the counter which was up to the height of my chin, smiling like a maniac.
She rang me up, "That'll be eighteen dollars.."
I handed my money over.
"No, eighteen. Not eight."
Ugh. I am still embarrassed to this day over how long it took me to understand what she was saying. My world crushed before my very eyes. I couldn't get the model. I had failed my grand father. I had failed the very world. Hell, I might have lost WWII entirely! I was a failure in complete.
"B.. but I worked and this is for my Grand dad, he flew in one!"
Then this old man behind me spoke up, "Ring me up and put that model on my bill. Throw an ice cream on it as well." The guy walked outside with me and smacked me on the back saying, "Tell him thanks ...for everything."
And I did, I told my grand dad everything about the store except for the fact I was a penniless bum who couldn't afford the fucking model. He and I spent the afternoon talking about the planes and building the model engines. He told me about how scared he was every moment he even looked at the plane, how he feared when the wheels left the ground and feared even more when they landed. All afternoon he talked and made me realize he wasn't proud of what he did but wasn't ashamed for doing it. I also learned the many various ways that the term, "fucking Germans" could be used which by the way is countless. Fucking Germans. My dad picked me up that evening and I waved to my grand dad as he said, "Next week end, we'll get that bugger up in the air! See yah!"
Tuesday came and my parents sat me down after school. My grand dad had died in his garage. Our model never got finished. It is still in one of my closets, it engines still there. The tube of glue still there, solidified now. I made a promise to pick it up one day when I have grand children, and I'll pick up the tales that he told me.
But to answer the question, that is the kindest thing a stranger ever did for me in buying that model. It gave me the greatest moment with my grand dad and probably the only time he spoke of the war he was a part of. My own father learned things from me because it was never spoken of, ever. I owe that stranger the world... and ten dollars.
Oh, and fuck Germans! Fucking fuck fuckity fuck Germans.