Love this, beautiful, Steve! ----- Original Message ----- From: "steve doyle" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Monday, September 21, 2009 6:46 PM Subject: [RecipesAndMore] Re: The Boy Under The Tree
> > Thanks > > ----- Original Message ----- > From: "Frances Vitulla" <[email protected]> > To: <[email protected]> > Sent: Tuesday, September 22, 2009 12:42 AM > Subject: [RecipesAndMore] Re: The Boy Under The Tree > > >> >> 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 -~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---
