last day of the year. i went back and forth on how to make a big act of kindness today. and then this person who really needed my help appeared in front of me. while so many of us tourists walked the beaches of santa monica and took in the beauty of it all there was the homeless man lying on the sidewalk. he looked like life had really beaten him up. so much to the point that he couldn't even get up to ask for help. will my donation to him change his life? probably not. but he was such a contrast to all of us who walked by and barely saw him.
here's to extending a hand to all those who need a helping hand.
On Friday, I found myself in the shoes of a third-grader in Connecticut, trying to make sense of humanity.
I remember the Virginia Tech shooting on a fairly regular basis. As a Nashua native, conversations about where I went to college inevitably turn to the shooting, and sometimes it still hurts no matter how natural it has become to brush it off.
I know how dark that day was for me, yet I find myself unable to comprehend the level of tragedy and horror brought by Friday, because it was experienced through the minds and eyes of children – not college-attending pseudo-adults, but children.
How do kids experience the confusion and darkness of a lockdown, or the terror-fueled escape? I watched the students run hand-in-hand away from the building and thought of what it felt like to sprint, alongside a couple friends, out of the architecture building to a friend’s truck.
We sat and waited for endless hours to hear if our friends and colleagues were all right. I imagine wondering if my favorite playmate is gone forever, or if my favorite teacher will ever smile at me again. Will these kids have that twinge of survivor’s guilt?
On any normal day, relating to an elementary school kid would be a welcome respite from whatever “being an adult” is.
Let’s hope these surviving children use the same unabashed courage they use when climbing one branch higher on the tree next to their house to remember what it’s like to be a kid.
Matthew Patrick Van Wagner
Salt Lake City, Utah