Tell Them While They Are Here

Too Busy for a Friend? 

One day, a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.  She then told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday, she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. 'Really?' she heard whispered. “I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!” and, “I didn't know others liked me so much”, were most of the comments. No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, one of the students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature. The church was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one in line. As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. Were you Mark's math teacher?' he asked. She nodded yes. Then he said “Mark talked about you a lot”. 

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon.  Mark's Mother and Father were there, waiting to speak with his teacher. We want to show you something his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket.  They found this on Mark when he was killed; we thought you might recognize it.  Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times.

The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. Thank you so much for doing that, Mark's mother said.  As you can see, Mark treasured it.  All of Mark's former classmates started to gather around. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, “I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home”.  Chuck's wife said, “Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album”.  “I have mine too,” Marilyn said. “It's in my diary” Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. “I carry this with me at all times,” Vicki said and without batting an eyelash, I think we all saved our lists.

 That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

I learned today that an old friend from High School passed away.  Her name was Charisse, and if you ask me, it was way too soon.  As with many of my friends of old, I had lost touch with Charrise many years ago.  Careers, (four of them); and families, (two of them) found their way between what is now, and what was then.  But long before I was that guy from Manalapan with kids, two cars, and a house…I was that kid from Staten Island who drove a ’78 Firebird, cruised Hylan Blvd., and raced over the bridge to hit White Castle in Brooklyn before they closed.   

Today’s news brought many things.  535 elected adolescents in suits finally agreed to bankrupt us a little more slowly than last year.  A handful of other adolescents in shoulder pads agreed to take an average about $200,000 per week to entertain us through the season, and global warming turns out to be not as hot as anyone thought it was going to be (really?).  But losing one more memory of a World that given the other news of the day, my children will never be able to duplicate, was probably my one true sad thought of the weekend.  Think of it as that little note in the pocket that you can only appreciate if you had been there.