“All I expect from my children is that they find a way to become a contributing member of society.” Sometimes I continue with, “It does not matter to me what you do, just do something that adds some value to your community.” I’ve changed my view of this edict. Continue reading We can all be a Contributing Member of Society
Her Child pooped in my yard
I sat on my front porch early one afternoon, doing what I do best; drinking an ice cold beer, listening to my Itunes library and smoking a fine Cuban(ish) cigar.
I didn’t have anything in particular that needed to be done this afternoon, so I decided that I could justify kicking back on the porch for a few hours. There was no one else home and the neighborhood was quiet. I basically had the entire community to myself at that moment. Peace and quiet are a duo of happiness that I truly enjoy and I was doing just that.
I-40 thru Davie County is about a quarter of a mile away and normally I can hear the buzz of traffic moving down the road. Today it seemed that there was less traffic than normal which made my time on the porch even more enjoyable as I listened to the tweets of birds and a few frogs in our small fish pond.
It was an absolutely beautiful day. Crystal clear blue skies, warm sunshine and just the slightest breeze. I mowed the front yard the day before so the grass was well manicured and because I had worked hard last fall, it was bright green and fairly weed free. The flowers were blooming and various trees we have in the yard were filled with bright blossoms. Spring was definitely here and I was enjoying it.
Then it happened – the most unusual thing I have ever witnessed, right in my front yard directly in front of where I sat.
A minivan came flying off the main road and squealed into our little cul-de-sac. The driver pulled off the road and stopped her van right in front of my house. She jumped out of the van, ran around the front and grabbed the sliding back door to open it. She was moving so fast that I barely saw her make 4 steps around the left side, across the front and then back to the middle of the van on the right side. What ever was going on had this lady fired up.
She had not seen me sitting on the front porch because her focus was clearly on getting to the sliding door.
Once the door was opened she frantically waved her arms beckoning for someone in side to get out. From my vantage point I could just barely hear her as she said, “Come on now! Get out of the van now!” With what looked like a single leap, a little boy jumped out of the van and landed feet first on my yard.
He appeared to be maybe 3 or 4 years old. Dressed in a nice white shirt, khaki pants and nice shiny brown shoes. He was dressed for success in his business casual attire, but I’m sure at his age he was not heading for a business lunch. I imagined that he was heading back to school or maybe to a doctors appointment. It was the middle of the week and around 1 in the afternoon.
Now, here is where it really starts to get strange. I’m about ready to share with you a series of words to describe an image that I have never seen happen quite like this.
Her child pooped in my yard
The little boy yanked his pants down and started to pee in my yard. Then he squatted and crapped, right there in my yard as his mother stood watching him. She made no movements and didn’t appear to say anything to him until he was done.
Apparently, this little boy had to go really, really bad.
In what appeared to be only seconds, he was done. His mother had grabbed some napkins from the back seat of the van and without hesitation she reached down and helped him complete the task by wiping his little butt off.
With a little less haste he redressed himself as his mother opened the front passenger door and picked up a McDonald’s cup. She popped off the top and poured the remaining soda and ice onto my yard. With the napkins she had in her other hand, she reached down to the ground and picked up what the child has deposited onto my yard. She placed it all in the cup and put the top back on it, then set the cup on the floor in the front passenger area of the van.
I could barely hear her speaking, but I caught some of the words as she calmly told him to get back into his seat. She reach in and help him fasten the seat belt. She continued with her calm and smooth motions and pulled the sliding door shut.
As she started to walk back toward the front of the van, she paused for just a moment and looked down at the ground as if to be sure she left nothing behind. She continued around the van, back to the driver’s seat, pulled her door shut, fastened her seat belt and put the car in drive.
She drove down to the end of the cul-de-sac and swung the van around to head back out of our neighborhood. As she drove back past my front yard she again looked at the ground and then looked up and saw me for the first time. As if nothing unusual had occurred, she smiled and waved toward me. I waved back as she drove away.
I chuckled lightly to myself, offered up to her an imaginary “Thank you” for cleaning up after her child pooped in my yard. I went back to listening to my tunes.
It’s a beautiful spring day in Davie County.
A snooty millionaire took some of his upper class friends yachting. They passed a deserted island where a man with a long beard and tattered clothes stood, waving his arms and screaming in their direction.
“Who is that?” asked the friend.
“I don’t know,” said the host, “but every time we sail by he goes crazy.”
That may be an exception to a universal rule, which is that most people are happy to help if they can. But there is another universal principle in play, which is, unless you are stranded on a deserted island, you are probably reluctant to ask for help – especially from a stranger. Thankfully, most of the time we are not coping with a mayday emergency.
I recently learned that the word “mayday” has nothing to do with the month of May. Instead, it comes from the French word “m’aidez,” which means “help me.” But it is used only as a last resort. The plane is nose-diving. The ship is fatally wounded. “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” a voice screams over the radio. If help doesn’t arrive quickly, all will be lost.
We laugh at the notion that men are famously bad about asking for directions. But, in truth, most people do not easily ask for the help they need. They wait until they are hopelessly lost, or the marriage is on the brink of collapse or a simple job has become a
nightmare before they seek help.
And it is also true that help is not usually too hard to get. But we have to ASK for it.
Entrepreneur Brian Tracy puts it well: “Ask for what you want. Ask for help, ask for input, ask for advice and ideas — but never be afraid to ask.” Or like one man is fond of saying, “You don’t always get what you ask for, but you never get what you don’t ask for (unless it’s contagious).”
I once heard of a little girl who confidently approached a police officer. “Are you a cop?” she asked.
“My mommy said that if I ever needed help I could ask you.”
“Of course you can,” the officer replied. “What do you need?”
She stuck out her foot. “Can you please tie my shoe?”
Do you need help? It may be easier to get than you think. Just ask for it.
— Steve Goodier
I re-printed this from Nigel Alston’s Motivational Moments message of Monday morning.
I hope you enjoyed the message