One afternoon in the late 1980s, Henry Winkler was at LAX, standing near the check-in counter. His days of playing the leather-jacketed “Fonz” from Happy Days were behind him, but he still had a presence that caught people’s attention. Nearby, a young man was clearly struggling. He looked flustered and stressed as he fumbled through a pile of paperwork, his face red, and his hands shaking. The airline agent, growing impatient, wasn’t helping matters, and the line behind him was getting longer.
Winkler, observing quietly, saw the man’s distress and decided to step in. He walked over, gently placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, and spoke calmly, “Take a deep breath. Everything’s going to be okay.” His voice was soothing, and it seemed to calm the young man’s nerves. With a quiet word to the airline agent, Winkler asked if they could go over the details of the reservation one more time. The young man was then able to organize his documents, and in no time, the situation was resolved. The man, too embarrassed to make eye contact, muttered a soft “thank you” before he disappeared into the crowd.
Winkler didn’t think much of it. To him, it was just a small act of kindness. He had grown up with immigrant parents who fled Nazi Germany, and they had always taught him that how you treat others, especially when no one is watching, speaks to your true character. Having faced his own challenges growing up, including a struggle with dyslexia, Winkler always felt a deep empathy for those who seemed lost or invisible.
Years later, in the early 1990s, Winkler was in the middle of pitching a project he truly believed in. Despite producing hits like MacGyver, his new idea wasn’t gaining any traction. Each meeting seemed to end with polite but vague responses, leaving him feeling frustrated. But one day, he found himself sitting across from a young studio executive, who greeted him warmly and gave him the space to fully pitch his idea. After listening carefully, the executive leaned in with a small grin and asked, “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Winkler was taken aback. The executive continued, “LAX. You helped me with my flight when I was a mess. I’ll never forget that. Now, I get to return the favor. The project’s approved. Let’s do this.”
Winkler was stunned. The kindness he had shown to a stranger years ago had come full circle, and it was that very act that helped open a door for him when he needed it the most.
Winkler often shared this story, not to boast, but to make a simple point: acts of kindness, offered without expecting anything in return, are never wasted. Sometimes, the good you do for others comes back to you when you least expect it.
Credit to the rightful owner~