Just Be There, It’s More Important Than Money

Time has a way of vanishing too quickly. Hard as we may work to cram a good life into 60 minutes of each hour, and fret that we won’t accomplish enough in 24 hours to satisfy ourselves or others, infrequently, a recess is needed, a retreat called for to reflect and see what life has brought us and, in response, to be gentle on our frail human bodies and minds.
On the refrigerator in the kitchen is a beautifully printed invitation to my granddaughter Katie’s 10th birthday party. In jest, I asked her if that could possibly be, or was it some mistake? She laughed when she replied, “No, Pop Pop, it’s not a mistake, I’m going to be 10 years old.”
I tried to think back to August 2000, and confess it was like peering through fog, trying to see Stone Harbor from Scotch Bonnet on an early summer morning. In fact, I almost found it impossible to recall.
Fortunately, over my home computer are framed photographs. One of them is Katie, so small in her daddy’s arms, looking quizzically toward the camera. It was the first of what would be seemingly thousands of photographs of a girl growing up. In the image, she is so innocent, he so proud. Mom missed out on that photo shoot, so exhausted was she from the rigors of childbirth.
I often think how fortunate we are, having grandchildren, and living so close to them, to watch them grow, nearly day by day. Honestly, from that first day until now, I could not perceive the changes. That is why photographs are so important.
I hear of other grandparents who many not have seen their grandchildren in years, or perhaps once or twice a year. Emails and the Internet help many grandparents stay in touch with their grandchildren, but nothing is a substitute for being there, being close, feeling the warmth, sharing the laughter and, yes, also the tears.
Simply being there, enjoying a meal or just a snack together can be a wonderful experience, so small yet gone so fast, but important beyond what we may imagine.
Daniel Auld, who was the subject of a story in the July 28 edition, was poignant in his assessment of the importance of simply “being there for the kids.” He noted, with due respect, that Oprah Winfrey visits Whitesboro’s reunion from time to time, and, often leaves behind a sizable chunk of money to help the children of the community.
That is laudable, he noted, but the children of that community, and every place, don’t need money as much as they need someone to talk to, to care about them, to offer advice, to be a mentor, and to simply be there in body and spirit as they grow and venture into the unknown world. That, he noted, is more valuable than all the money left behind for grand monuments. He was so right.
From early in life, Katie has been fascinated with books, all sorts of books. At first, she loved those tiny little ones, printed on cardboard that are easy for tiny hands to hold. She would look at them, and enjoyed having them read to her.
How many times, I thought back then, would I have to read “Good Night, Moon?” Then too, there was another silly book, something that ended with the phrase “chicken soup and rice.”
The other night, as we gathered around the dinner table eating chicken and rice, Katie blurted out that silly phrase from those pages of long ago. Amazing, I thought, simply amazing. I had long forgotten those words.
Trips to the County Library have become a treat for Katie and me. Then, when her brother Jason attained the “proper” age to accompany us, he too loves to visit the children’s section of the library.
The Campbell trio heads to the collection of books and other media. I must confess, I chuckle each time we make the short trip to the Mechanic Street building. As part of those special evening rituals, the car is parked in the Boyd Street parking lot, and the eager brother and sister bolt from the vehicle.
A blue cloth book bag, laden with the latest collection of thin, juvenile books, is always deemed “Too heavy for me to carry, Pop Pop.” Thus, I tote the books as the pair merrily races each other along the sidewalk and around the front of the red-brick building, up the slate steps into the almost (to them) sacred repository of books.
To the family’s amazement, the birthday girl, Katie, is smitten with reading biographies about U.S Presidents. Her other grandmother, Mom Mom Joan, got her one of those huge puzzles of the presidents. She does it in record time, and then is fascinated to talk about certain ones. Something clicked in her mind, and pretty soon, Katie was hooked on the presidents, fascinated about minute details of their lives and terms and times in history.
She has memorized their service in order, and, to our sheer amazement, can rattle off facts about them which most adults would find boring.
All of this in 10 short years, a decade, the first in the 21st Century.
You, reader, have my apologies for having been dragged through this reflection of an important part of our lives. Perhaps it will inspire you. If you have no grandchildren, or have none close by, consider “adopting” a child in the neighborhood who may need someone to just be there, to listen, to read a book, or pass on facets from your life that may be the blocks on which a young life is built.
Time races. The staid August moon will shine on the 24th of the month. Then it will pass into history, marking the passage of Katie’s birthday month, and the march of time.
Make the most of each day. Enjoy those around you. Take joy from the trip, not the destination. Be there, simply be there. Hold a hand. Laugh. Cry. Listen. Pray. The future results may amaze you, as the past decade has amazed me.