It is not unusual for a home appliance to demand attention. Summoning a repairman in itself hardly provides validity or substance for a newspaper column. But, as reader, kindly be the judge.

It was, say, 1998. After some probing I was advised that Mr. Rawlins Bruney, mechanical engineer at Domlec, had the skill to repair my wash machine. He put some hours into it, perhaps three good hours in the least that weekend. Even if the time spent had been much less, it would be unreasonable of me to expect that I could merely say thanks after the job was done.

So I asked Mr. Bruney what his fee was. There was no fee, he said; in any event he added, it was payback time. I queried whether I heard properly; after all, there had been neither cause nor contact and no justification for me to expect a payback for anything I had done. He, however, told me the following story. After hearing it I still did not recall the incident.

Some 25 years before he was a young student in the faculty of engineering at the University of the West Indies, St. Augustine, Trinidad. I had already graduated and was doing some work with the university as my base.

Bruney related that he had a practical (lab) assignment to do. A piece of equipment essential to the successful completion of his exercise was not functioning well. So what should normally be, say, a 4 hour assignment, took him much longer, say 10 hours. That inordinate amount of time was a function of the faulty equipment he was forced to work with coupled with his determination to get an excellent grade for his effort.

His meticulousness did not quite pay off in terms of the results he obtained. But in his presentation he explained his work, outlined what he should have gotten but did not get thanks to the faulty machine, and described what he got. With that he expected still to attain a distinction grade.

For all his effort and his focus he got this comment from the immature lecturer who graded his paper:

"I am inescapably led to the fact that you had a leaking manometer. Just as inescapably I am led to believe that your powers of perception are limited to what is indicated by a loud bang or a bright flash. Just as inescapably your mark will be zero over twenty."

So, Bruney got 0 out of 20.

He was devastated. If his best effort could only produce zero, it was clear to him that engineering was not for him; or he had no talent for engineering. He decided to give up the course. He was going back home to Dominica.

Soon after his determination to terminate his studies, Mr. Bruney and I met in a district adjacent to St. Augustine, without planning any such meeting. He took that opportunity to narrate his story and to tell me about the decision he had made. As I write now, it remains unclear whether he told me by way of seeking my advice, or my sympathy, or both. It does not matter.

I advised him that going home was a last option, if any option at all. It was a delicate matter, but he should seek an audience with the Head of that Engineering Department, present his presentation, tell his story and seek the kind intervention of the Head.

Mr. Bruney acted on that advice. It worked. Subject to a few cosmetic changes, he was asked to re-present his paper. He got 18 out of 20 that time. Let it suffice here to remind oneself that there is a long way between zero and 90%.

More than 25 years later, Mr. Bruney remembers it all. He credits that advice with having saved him from being a university drop-out. Since that time, he says, he has done acts of kindness to many people.

I was very touched and humbled by that story and one of the folks that I told about it was Hon. Julius Timothy, who gave me one of his own.

In those days at primary school in Roseau, one of his teachers was Reville Desmoulins, now departed. I myself knew Teacher Reville as a pleasant, affable man with a sense of humour. This is without prejudice to the fact that the best of us can have a bad day.

That day, Desmoulins slapped Julius Timothy violently enough to send him sprawling to the ground. The impressionable seven-year-old got up from the floor. He swore to himself that he would hit back Desmoulins – if it be the final thing he does in his life.

The decades passed.

One day, Desmoulins had a problem relating to a business matter. The staff at ACS was certain that they could not help him. They advised him that only the Managing Director could exercise his discretion, not to say his sympathy in the matter.

In his office, Mr. Timothy looked with intensity at Desmoulins for what seemed an eternity while he replayed the decades-old incident when he was only seven. He told Desmoulins the story. He ended by saying that he had forgiven him. For a while there was silence. Desmoulins was too surprised to respond.