Day 27 of our 31 Letters Literacy Project is all about HELPING.
Today’s letter topic is inspired by a poem we bumped into on Day 27 of 365 Days of Literacy for Kids:
I Cry by Tupak Shakur
Sometimes when I’m alone
I Cry,
Cause I am on my own.
The tears I cry are bitter and warm.
They flow with life but take no form
I Cry because my heart is torn.
I find it difficult to carry on.
If I had an ear to confide in,
I would cry among my treasured friend,
but who do you know that stops that long,
to help another carry on.
The world moves fast and it would rather pass by.
Then to stop and see what makes one cry,
so painful and sad.
And sometimes…
I Cry
and no one cares about why.
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I think the most poignant words in this moving poem by Tupak Shakur are:
The world moves fast and it would rather pass by.
Then to stop and see what makes one cry…
Can you recall a time, or even a moment in your life when you DID stop and see what makes one cry? Have you helped someone through a difficult time? Have you been a treasured friend who stops long enough to help someone carry on?
Write a letter to your kids/grandkids/special kids about HELPING… about BEING A FRIEND. It may be one of the most important letters you will ever write.
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Here is my HELPING letter to my grandkids:
March 27, 2011
Hi, my little darlings! Today, I’d like to share a poem with you about HELPING. About listening. About your words. Here’s the poem:
I Cry by Tupak Shakur
Sometimes when I’m alone
I Cry,
Cause I am on my own.
The tears I cry are bitter and warm.
They flow with life but take no form
I Cry because my heart is torn.
I find it difficult to carry on.
If I had an ear to confide in,
I would cry among my treasured friend,
but who do you know that stops that long,
to help another carry on.
The world moves fast and it would rather pass by.
Then to stop and see what makes one cry,
so painful and sad.
And sometimes…
I Cry
and no one cares about why.
This poem is about feeling alone, lonely and sad. We don’t know why the poet feels this way, but we do know he also feels that no-one cares. What a sad way to feel.
Sometimes it takes a lot of strength to reach out and help someone. Sometimes it takes time to help someone. We are all so busy and the world moves fast… like the poem says. I am going to tell you about how one day I took the time to sit and talk with someone who seemed to be sad, and how she taught me more and helped me more than I could ever have imagined. I will never forget that little girl…
My Mom took my brothers and me to the Navy Pool in San Diego almost every summer day. It was a big pool. It was shaped like a giant L. It had a shallow end and a deep end with two diving boards. I learned to swim in that pool. I took swimming lessons every morning, and then we’d stay and swim and play until almost dinner time. There was a big grassy area, too, and that’s where we ate our lunches every day… and we ran and played with our friends. On weekends when my Dad was home, he’d bring his little grill and he’d cook hamburgers and hot dogs.
I think it’s the colors of those summer days that I remember so very much… the blues of the pool, the greens of the grass, the reds and yellows of ketchup and mustard, the pinks in my bathing suits! I even remember the colors in one of my bathing caps! Most bathing caps were white, but one of mine had little flowers all over it… colorful flowers of purple, blue, yellow, pink and green. I loved that bathing cap! (You may not know what a bathing cap is! All the girls and women had to wear a tight cap over their hair, kind of like a swim cap, but made of a rubber material. Most of them had a strap that went under your chin. These caps prevented hair from clogging the filtration system. I also remember my Mom tucking my hair into one every day… and it HURT!)
My family did this summer after summer after summer. I loved every second of it!
Around the pool, there was a very wide cement area. I loved the cement because it was so warm under my feet when I hopped out of the cool pool. I loved to lay right down on that cement with my whole body. It was so cozy! (A little secret… I would STILL love to lay down on warm cement in the summertime! Can grown-up Grandmas do that!?)
One day, I noticed a girl who looked about 7 or 8 years old… just about my age, sitting on the cement near the deep end of the pool. She was huddled in a little ball, her head down, and hugging her knees to her chest. Kids were splashing water as they dove off the diving boards. The little girl would shake in a startled sort of way when the water splashed over her. I wondered why she just didn’t move away.
But she just sat there, hugging her knees and shaking each time she was splashed.
I moved closer to the girl. I noticed that kids walked way a-r-o-u-n-d her. Why, I thought.
I moved even closer to the girl and sat at the edge of the pool, my feet dangling into the water at the deep end. I turned around and noticed that the girl’s eyes were half-closed. But they weren’t closed like she was closing them on purpose. That’s when a boy ran by her and said, “That girl is blind.” He did not say this in a kind way and he said it LOUDLY.
Kids began to stare at the little girl. I must admit that I did, too.
My Mom had an uncle who was blind, my Great Uncle George… who lived with my Nana back in Boston. (Remember the letter in which I told you about my Nana and her 6 brothers? Nana’s brother George lost his eyesight when he was in his 20’s and lived with my Nana and her family until he died at age 86. My Nana took care of him all those years.) I remembered that Uncle George’s eyes looked like this little girl’s eyes.
Uncle George had a cane with a red tip that he tap-tap-tapped along as he walked along the sidewalk or down the stairs of my Nana’s house. He would run after my brothers, my cousins and me… chasing us with his tap-tap-tapping cane down the long hall in my Nana’s house. We would giggle with delight. Sometimes he would pick up my little brother Dennis and swing him high up in the air, laughing his raspy laugh. I remember Uncle George pouring himself a cup of coffee or tea. He would get the cup ready and then place his thumb inside the rim of the cup… then pour the coffee or hot water until it touched his thumb. I thought it was the coolest way to pour coffee or tea.
But I didn’t remember anyone ever teasing Uncle George.
This boy at the pool on that one summer day was teasing this little girl. I couldn’t believe it.
I felt so badly for the girl… so I moved closer to her. I know she sensed someone near her. I said, “Hi. My name is Sharon.”
The girl moved her head away from me at first. Then she turned back, like she was listening to me breathe. The teasing boy had moved on to something else. She said, “My name is Susan.”
We didn’t say anything else for a few moments.
A couple of my friends who had been swimming in the deep end swam over and hopped out of the pool. We all sat there, kind of not knowing what to do or say.
I remember listening to myself breathe. I remember thinking I wonder if she can see me?
Then Susan said that she wished she could swim.
I had never thought about not doing things like swimming. I knew Uncle George was blind, but he wasn’t blind as a child.
So we sat there on the warm cement of the pool deck and talked about swimming. Susan was very, very quiet… but she smiled when we talked about swimming. She listened very carefully. She smiled.
We didn’t talk very long. Her Mom came along and smiled at all of us and took Susan back to a grassy picnic area.
I watched the Mom as she helped Susan find her way. And I’ve never forgotten Susan to this very morning. When I think of colors, I often think of Susan. When I think of summer, I often think of Susan. When I hear myself breathe, I often think of Susan. When I swim, I often think of Susan.
Susan gave me the gift of gratitude for what I had and what I still have. Colors, in particular. Susan wanted to swim. I hope she accomplished her dream. I wonder if Susan is now a Grandma like me… listening to her beautiful grandchildren tell her all about their days and nights and wishes and dreams.
I never saw Susan again. She must have been a guest that day. But she left me with a lifetime of CARING. Helping. She did more for me than I can ever express… just for taking the TIME to move closer.
Remember the words of this poem…
Love forever and ever,
Grandma Couto
P.S. I hope that teasing boy never did that kind of teasing again…
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Mail Tidbit of the Day: Most early courier systems consisted of fixed posts.
