Consider the Needs of Others

It’s December of 1967, the snowfall had begun early this year, but whether it came in inches or buckets, I could hardly wait for weekends. Playing outside in the snow was awesome. When I was nine years old, a Saturday morning routine consisted of my older brother’s and I waking up to a warm bowl of oatmeal with a raisin smiley face, and thirty minutes of mom methodically layering us with snow pants and jackets, socks and boots, hats and mittens, and a scarf. One by one we rushed outside to begin our day. I remember waddling down sidewalks with mountains of snow on each side, fierce snowball fights with neighbors across the street, swirling angels’ wings in a fresh layer of snow, and cheers for finding the biggest icecycle. Our annual snowman displayed a warm hat and scarf, two branches from the maple tree in our front yard, raisins and a carrot for the eyes and nose. My brothers and I would stay outside for hours and hours, only coming inside when we were called to dinner or could no longer see in the dark. A delicious hot meal or a cup of hot chocolate would be waiting at the table after we left a mound of winter clothes at the door. My day always ended with mom tucking me in with a good book and a kiss good night, and I’d fall asleep dreaming of endless possibilities in the snow. Life was good, I didn’t want for anything; mom and dad anticipated my needs before I even knew them.

It was winter break, school was closed, and the Christmas season was coming to an end. The tree and all its trimmings were packed away, and a place for each new toy was found in the toy room. My brother’s drum set was placed in the corner with the rocking horse, games were put on a shelf next to Barbie Doll accessories, and my Chatty Kathy ...

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... as carefree as mine. After seeing Jeannie’s cry for help I felt like I had stepped into a different world, a world that wasn’t just all about me. It caused me to take a look around and it taught me to be thankful. Thankful for what I have, thankful that I have extra to give. Thankful that Jeannie kindled my inner spirit so that I could see beyond myself.

Jeannie and I remained very close throughout our school years. We spent a lot of time together at school and home, and the next time we played outside in the snow she wore my old jacket and snow pants. I treasure our childhood friendship and will always remember her quiet smile and the lesson I learned that day at Murphy Park, which was to consider the needs of others. I believe it’s one of the greatest treasures of life. If we have compassion to alleviate a burden and help others, they’ll do the same.