A Few of My Favorite Things
I’ve been doing a lot of politics the past few weeks, and that’s probably going to continue through the election. I’ve been meaning to post some photos from Sam’s last visit for sometime now.
This afternoon as I was leaving work, a young black woman was sitting on the front steps crying and shaking. She had a young boy, no more than 2 or 3, in her lap. Like most kids that age, he looked lost and more than a little scared by his mom’s wailing. A couple of people were moving toward her asking if she was OK, but as I walked toward my bike, I distinctly heard someone ask about the baby. When I heard the woman say “You almost hit him!”, I realized something serious had happened, and turned back.
The kid had narrowly missed being hit by car, pulled out of the vehicle’s path by his mom, who was now breaking down in front of me. The little guy looked unharmed, but from the way the other two people were talking it seemed like a pretty near miss. The woman’s hands were shaking so hard the little boy was jiggling up and down. I ran back inside, and grabbed a couple of cups of water to help her calm her nerves. “Thank you,” she said as I handed them to her. She looked down at the little boy. “He almost got hit, I can’t believe it, he almost got hit…” she mumbled.
I saw that everything was OK and the boy and his mom weren’t hurt, so I hopped on my bike, wished them good luck and headed home. And man, did I begin to feel that woman’s fear, flashing back to a few years ago when Sam made a mad dash from the park toward Chester Avenue, laughing as I chased him. He thought it was a joke, but I was terrified, and caught him by the collar just as his foot stepped into the street. It was one of the only times I’ve given him a wallop, a good swat on his behind, and then it was in the stroller and time to go home.
When I was 5, I was friends with Jimmy and Joey, the identical twins up the street. Every day we would ride our Big Wheels across Whitwell Avenue to play with the Walsh girls and the Crowleys. But one day, a car came screeching around the corner and hit Joey. He was lying under the wheel of a big grey-green car, one of those 20-foot long 1970s sedans: his eyes were open an unblinking, and a small stream of blood trickled for the corner of his mouth. As neighbors began pouring out of their homes with blankets and ice, I ran into my friends’ house and told their mom what happened. I wasn’t even sure which one of had been hit. After Joey got back from the hospital, it was easy to tell the two apart.
So with that in mind, here are some pictures of Sam I’ve been meaning to post. You start appreciating what you have a lot more when you see someone almost lose theirs. Click to expand…
At the end of the day, this is what matters. Everything else is chaff.
October 8th, 2008 at 3:58 pm
“everything else is chaff.” So true.
My kids have had a few close calls too; darting into the street seems to be a common theme. My daughter will be learning to drive next year, and I’m already warning her about kids appearing out of nowhere.
Kind of puts it all into perspective, huh?