During the closing decade of the 80s, I was beginning a low-cost journey to the European continent with a travel partner. Because my friend was exploring pursuing a master’s degree in the Big Apple, we had booked a fortnight visit there on the way to London.
We reached the graduate housing, a big 10-storey building on the Manhattan's Upper West Side called International House. Once we unpacked, we made our way to the cafeteria, where we got some food, sat down, and began chatting with other diners.
Adjacent to my seat was an Iraqi man studying engineering at Columbia University. He asked me what I did for a living, and I told him that I had just graduated with a science degree and had been working on studies using an electron microscope.
He noted that there was an research lab at the institution – close to the engineering department, which was the reason he was familiar with it. He recommended that I should apply for a role with them. I chuckled at the suggestion, explaining that I was heading off to Europe and, even more importantly, I did not possess a US visa.
The next day I went out exploring, going back to the cafeteria that after dark. The engineering student came up to me and told me that he had arranged an interview for me with the head of the electron microscope unit at Columbia. Because he had made the arrangement, I went to the meeting – but immediately told my host that I lacked the necessary visa, so I was unable to accept the role.
In typical New York fashion – a metropolis where anything feels possible – she said: “That can be arranged. When can you start?” I missed my plane to London.
I held that position for a trio of years. An advantage of the role was that I got complimentary education at Columbia, and I used the opportunity to finish a graduate degree in global studies.
I lost touch with him and I can't recall his identity, but his remarkable generosity changed my life in so many ways. I lacked the bravery or self-belief to approach someone at an elite institution and ask for a job. And, I had consistently hoped to take classes in another country, but could never have afforded it without that tuition waiver.
Perhaps most importantly, that gig at Columbia resulted in a position in Switzerland where I got to know my beautiful French husband, with whom I currently share four wonderful sons and daughters. It was a total sliding doors moment. That benevolent individual set me on a different course in life, and I’m forever grateful.
Can you recall the Most Generous Act a Stranger Has Shown for You?
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