My son reminded me to never judge a book by its cover | Opinion
When it comes to surprises, I’ve always been a little bit uncomfortable with events that are sprung upon me — totally out of my control. How should I react? Did I say the right things? Did my spontaneous response match the expectations and efforts of those doing the surprising? My younger son, though, has a quiet, unique and totally treasured way of surprising me.
Before I returned to Modesto about 10 years ago, I lived in a tiny, charming “doll house” of a cottage in a forested area across the street from the spectacular, ever-changing coast of the Pacific Ocean. My daily morning walk was full of wonder: Sometimes there would be a baby seal deposited by its mother while she was foraging; there could be a multiplicity of shells deposited by a high tide; and almost always there were shimmering agates of every size and description.
As I was returning from my walk one morning, the mail carrier brought me a package from my son, Jason, who lives in New York City. The fact that it was not intended to commemorate any holiday or birthday only added to my interest. He was prone to this type of spontaneous gesture to surprise and delight. For instance, when we were planning a mission trip to Haiti, he sent me a beautiful leather cover for my passport that held a significant amount of cash to defray my costs for the trip. I loved this kind of surprise. To me, it seemed like a spontaneous act of kindness from one heart to another.
I smiled as I received this new missive. It had been a while since I received a box from Jason. What could this one hold?
Upon opening the package, I found two used books. He knew I read voraciously, and it was like him to engage in this activity with me, even though he did not share this particular interest himself. I was touched by his thoughtfulness, and, with a smile, I put these new additions to my library aside until I was ready for a new read. At that time, however, I was a member of a very active book club, and I also read and discussed books with my very good friend. So, regrettably, the books Jason sent me lay neglected, gathering dust.
Six months later, I was deeply engaged in a “clearing the clutter” frenzy in my little house. Things I had not used, worn or enjoyed in some way during the previous several months were in jeopardy of ending up in the “donations” box. When I was scanning my book collection, I noticed the two books Jason had sent. I smiled as I picked them up. Warm feelings of appreciation flooded my heart. So thoughtful.
“But,” I thought, “the same rule applies. I only have room for so many books, and I don’t foresee myself making time for these two.” I held the two books for a moment, and then looked toward the donation box in front of me.
Because of the loving source of these two particular items, I hesitated. “I could at least leaf through them,” I thought.
As I turned the first one over in my hands and flicked it open, a flood of dollar bills fell out. He had hollowed out the pages of both books and stuffed the resulting cavities with money.
Two neglected gifts quietly holding their secret stash of treasure. Silently waiting to share something unannounced — and, because it was unheralded, full of the spontaneous gift of wonder and grace.
I remember the first time I heard the phrase, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” I was in the third grade at John Muir Elementary School here in Modesto. The teacher explained the meaning of the phrase, and I remember her saying that this wisdom could be applied to anything we assume to know or understand at our first glimpse of its outside.
When I called Jason and told him how close I had come to passing his gift on unopened, he laughed heartily and said, “Mom, that would have been absolutely perfect! Can you imagine someone’s face when they opened a second hand novel by Elizabeth George and found $100 inside?”
It has taken a lifetime, but bit by bit I’ve learned the truth of that axiom first imparted to me by a teacher whose name I don’t remember. I receive gifts every day I choose to really see the person in front of me at Safeway, where I work as a courtesy clerk. There is the astonishing Omar, with the 100-watt smile. He uses an electric cart as he fills an InstaCart order because he’s physically challenged. There is bushy-bearded Gary, who shops early and always surprises me with a hearty “Bunny!” from a different hidden place. There is Pete, who laughs as he embraces me because he rarely gets the opportunity to hug his actual grandmother in Mexico. There is Alexandra with her husband, Arnie. I see them every Thursday. They have become dear friends. Melanie and Jerry, who bring their particular type of joy to our Starbucks almost every morning, have asked me to officiate at their wedding.
Each and every encounter is a gift of the heart and the spirit. Without a doubt, I am the luckiest Safeway Courtesy Clerk — and the luckiest mom — in the world.
Bunny Stevens lives in Modesto, her hometown, and has served on The Modesto Bee Community Advisory Board. She is the opening courtesy clerk at the Safeway supermarket on McHenry Avenue and an ordained minister in the Universal Life Church. Reach her at BunnyinModesto@gmail.com
This story was originally published November 1, 2025 at 6:00 AM with the headline "My son reminded me to never judge a book by its cover | Opinion."