the status of aisle and window

Airplane passengers can be inconsiderate bastards.
My cousin Valerie and I are on our way home from one of the most emotionally difficult journeys I have yet taken. My grandma's memorial service was Monday, a time of tears as we remembered the woman who shaped all of our lives. One of the virtues she instilled in her children, and which has been passed on to her grandchildren, is the value of giving part of yourself to others. Sitting in the small, simple Presbyterian church that was her spiritual home for 45 years, we spoke about her support for the community; whether it was running off the bulletins every Saturday for church the next morning, serving as a campfire leader, or welcoming her future son in law into her basement for four months as he searched for a job, my grandmother took care of those around her even when it was uncomfortable. She taught us how to serve.
I can see these same values in my Eagle Scout brother, who earned this accomplishment despite attention deficit disorder, a learning disability, and other issues that hindered him. I see it in my cousins Elisabeth and Valerie, who each postponed college to spend a year apiece as missionaries for the Baha'i faith in Senegal. I see it in the hospitality of my Uncle Bob and Aunt Renee, who hosted seven houseguests as we prepared for Grandma's service. I see it in my own mother, who gave up one day a week for years, and in the past few months postponed searching for a job, so she could take care of my grandmother as she lost her eyesight and her health declined. Pat Johnston taught us that there are things greater than the self, and that to live a good life meant to actively work for the betterment of others.
This morning, when Valerie and I embarked upon our return journey, still grieving through laughter and holding to each other as we started life grandparentless, we arrived at the airport late because my mother (in typical form) got lost on the way and missed a couple of lanes. We obtained our boarding passes too late to find seats next to each other, and so pleaded in turn with a half dozen of our fellow passengers, trying to find someone willing to change seats so we could continue side by side. In turn, each refused us with simple excuses like "I don't like sitting in the middle." They were relentless, even when they saw my tears at being separated and heard us discuss why we had been traveling. On an already difficult flight, the one thing that had made it truly bearable for me was knowing that I was with someone else, and that comfort was taken from me by the unyielding nature of our fellow passengers. I wonder if there answers would have been different if they had been taught as we were that taking care of others was more important than your own comfort.
And so, I urge each of you to always be willing to switch seats. You never know what it could mean to someone.