Hello, Steve, this is beautiful. You just never know. Thanks for sharing. Original message: > The Boy Under The Tree > In the summer recess between freshman and sophomore years in college, I > was invited to be an instructor at a high school leadership camp hosted > by a college in Michigan. I was already highly involved in most campus > activities, and I jumped at the opportunity. > About an hour into the first day of camp, amid the frenzy of > icebreakers and forced interactions, I first noticed the boy under the > tree. He was small and skinny, and his obvious discomfort and shyness > made him appear frail and fragile. Only 50 feet away, 200 eager campers > were bumping bodies, playing, joking and meeting each other, but the > boy under the tree seemed to want to be anywhere other than where he > was. The desperate loneliness he radiated almost stopped me from > approaching him, but I remembered the instructions from the senior > staff to stay alert for campers who might feel left out. > As I walked toward him I said, "Hi, my name is Kevin and I'm one of the > counselors. It's nice to meet you. How are you?" In a shaky, sheepish > voice he reluctantly answered, "Okay, I guess." I calmly asked him if > he wanted to join the activities and meet some new people. He quietly > replied, "No, this is not really my thing." > I could sense that he was in a new world, that this whole experience > was foreign to him. But I somehow knew it wouldn't be right to push > him, either. He didn't need a pep talk, he needed a friend. After > several silent moments, my first interaction with the boy under the > tree was over. > At lunch the next day, I found myself leading camp songs at the top of > my lungs for 200 of my new friends. The campers were eagerly > participating. My gaze wandered over the mass of noise and movement and > was caught by the image of the boy from under the tree, sitting alone, > staring out the window. I nearly forgot the words to the song I was > supposed to be leading. At my first opportunity, I tried again, with > the same questions as before: "How are you doing? Are you okay?" To > which he again replied, "Yeah, I'm alright. I just don't really get > into this stuff." As I left the cafeteria, I too realized this was > going to take more time and effort than I had thought - if it was even > possible to get through to him at all. > That evening at our nightly staff meeting, I made my concerns about him > known. I explained to my fellow staff members my impression of him and > asked them to pay special attention and spend time with him when they could. > The days I spend at camp each year fly by faster than any others I have > known. Thus, before I knew it, mid-week had dissolved into the final > night of camp and I was chaperoning the last dance. The students were > doing all they could to savor every last moment with their new best > friends, friends they would probably never see again. > As I watched the campers share their parting moments, I suddenly saw > what would be one of the most vivid memories of my life. The boy from > under the tree, who stared blankly out the kitchen window, was now a > shirtless dancing wonder. He owned the dance floor as he and two girls > proceeded to cut up a rug. I watched as he shared meaningful, intimate > time with people at whom he couldn't even look just days earlier. I > couldn't believe it was him. > In October of my sophomore year, a late-night phone call pulled me away > from my chemistry book. A soft-spoken, unfamiliar voice asked politely, > "Is Kevin there?" > "You're talking to him. Who's this?" > "This is Tom Johnson's mom. Do you remember Tommy from leadership camp? > The boy under the tree. How could I not remember? > "Yes, I do," I said. "He's a very nice young man. How is he?" > An abnormally long pause followed, then Mrs. Johnson said, "My Tommy > was walking home from school this week when he was hit by a car and > killed." Shocked, I offered my condolences. > "I just wanted to call you," she said, "because Tommy mentioned you so > many times. I wanted you to know that he went back to school this fall > with confidence. He made new friends. His grades went up. And he even > went out on a few dates. I just wanted to thank you for making a > difference for Tom. The last few months were the best few months of his life." > In that instant, I realized how easy it is to give a bit of yourself > every day. You may never know how much each gesture may mean to someone > else. I tell this story as often as I can, and when I do, I urge others > to look out for their own "boy under the tree."
> -- Email services provided by the System Access Mobile Network. Visit www.serotek.com to learn more about accessibility anywhere. --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ Access the Recipes And More list archives at: http://www.mail-archive.com/recipesandmore%40googlegroups.com/ Visit the group home page at: http://groups.google.com/group/RecipesAndMore -~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---
