A Family of Brilliance: The Smiths
A few years ago, there was a family that lived across the street. Such things happen in neighborhoods, with houses meant for human occupation arranged in orderly rows along avenues of transportation. The pleasant outcome of sensible city planning is that families are able to befriend others, which is what occurred with the Rileys and the Smiths. The Smiths were a couple, a man and woman who may have married after moving into Bellefonte -- I'm not sure. I don't remember how our families became friends, but it likely began with "Hello" and a few comments about the world around us. Soon after their arrival on the Marion Avenue scene, Sarah was born. James and I were deemed trustworthy enough to babysit young Sarah on a few occasions, and those were some fun times. Sarah was a doll, a completely wonderful being that delighted the brothers Riley with that innocence of babies that elicits wonderment in many adults. Additionally, the Smiths had digital cable, a luxury the Rileys of the early 2000s were unfamiliar with. Noggin, a premium channel, granted us infrequent access to The Adventures of Pete and Pete, reminding us of our youth. Thinking back to those days, I am reminded of the romance of life: autumn afternoons spent outside, watching Sarah play on the jungle gym given to her parents by my best friend's family, the interconnectedness of humanity and the joy of simple play.
As Sarah grew, so did our friendship with the Smiths. Our family visited their house for meals and we enjoyed each other's company. This company increased when they had a second daughter, amplifying the young voices from the house across the street. The feminine melodies greeted us each day when going to school and work, but when Paul, their third child, was born, the daily fun was over for us. The homes in Bellefonte aren't too accommodating to large families, so the Smiths had to move to a larger house. They were still close, moving only a few minutes away, but they were no longer our neighbors. Sightings of the Smiths became more infrequent, and the house across the street grew quiet. Life moved on and so did we. I finished high school, moved miles away to college and James did the same. Yet while we couldn't say hello to the Smiths every time we walked out of our door, we still found time to catch up with each other back home in northern Delaware.
Recently, we were able to do just that. A week before I left for New Hampshire, the Smiths and the Rileys, minus the patriarchs, met at China Buffet for dinner and some conversations. The first thing I noticed upon entering the restaurant was Sarah: bright and tall, no longer a baby. We told stories down the table -- seven people take up a lengthy section -- but quickly the table broke into two conversations: the one between my mom and mama Smith and the one between James, me and the Smith younglings. I was reminded of how phenomenal James is with children. They are drawn to him, partly because they can see the kind soul inside, and partly because he is a major goofball. For example, during dinner I turned from my plate to see young Paul with an orange peel in his mouth. I found it humorous, and laughed harder when I realized he was copying my brother. The joy I had had spending time with a young Sarah across the street had now grown into a deep appreciation of these bright, creative and wonderful young human beings.
For hours and days after we met for dinner, I wanted to scream my joy at everyone. I couldn't quite explain why I was overwhelmed with happiness, but I knew that the Smiths -- particularly the children -- had something to do with it. I realize now why I love them and why they matter so much to me. These children, because of their upbringing and these times, have such potential to achieve greatness, to do something magnificent with their lives. They will fulfill that cliché of making the world a better place, and knowing them means needing to honor that brilliance and potential. I have an obligation to push myself to be better, to expect that others will do the same. Not just because the Smiths need a world in which to flourish, but because we all do. Making myself better is the only way to guide the world in that direction, to provide a path for all human beings to walk on towards perfection.
-Paul
As Sarah grew, so did our friendship with the Smiths. Our family visited their house for meals and we enjoyed each other's company. This company increased when they had a second daughter, amplifying the young voices from the house across the street. The feminine melodies greeted us each day when going to school and work, but when Paul, their third child, was born, the daily fun was over for us. The homes in Bellefonte aren't too accommodating to large families, so the Smiths had to move to a larger house. They were still close, moving only a few minutes away, but they were no longer our neighbors. Sightings of the Smiths became more infrequent, and the house across the street grew quiet. Life moved on and so did we. I finished high school, moved miles away to college and James did the same. Yet while we couldn't say hello to the Smiths every time we walked out of our door, we still found time to catch up with each other back home in northern Delaware.
Recently, we were able to do just that. A week before I left for New Hampshire, the Smiths and the Rileys, minus the patriarchs, met at China Buffet for dinner and some conversations. The first thing I noticed upon entering the restaurant was Sarah: bright and tall, no longer a baby. We told stories down the table -- seven people take up a lengthy section -- but quickly the table broke into two conversations: the one between my mom and mama Smith and the one between James, me and the Smith younglings. I was reminded of how phenomenal James is with children. They are drawn to him, partly because they can see the kind soul inside, and partly because he is a major goofball. For example, during dinner I turned from my plate to see young Paul with an orange peel in his mouth. I found it humorous, and laughed harder when I realized he was copying my brother. The joy I had had spending time with a young Sarah across the street had now grown into a deep appreciation of these bright, creative and wonderful young human beings.
For hours and days after we met for dinner, I wanted to scream my joy at everyone. I couldn't quite explain why I was overwhelmed with happiness, but I knew that the Smiths -- particularly the children -- had something to do with it. I realize now why I love them and why they matter so much to me. These children, because of their upbringing and these times, have such potential to achieve greatness, to do something magnificent with their lives. They will fulfill that cliché of making the world a better place, and knowing them means needing to honor that brilliance and potential. I have an obligation to push myself to be better, to expect that others will do the same. Not just because the Smiths need a world in which to flourish, but because we all do. Making myself better is the only way to guide the world in that direction, to provide a path for all human beings to walk on towards perfection.
-Paul