I am back from Florida, with all kinds of fun stories to share- but I need to begin on a quite poignant note. This is one of those stories about Learning What Matters.
Because my transportation to and from Florida was being paid for by the Tremper High School Choir, Kathy was anxious that we get the cheapest tickets possible so as not to cause undue financial burden to the choir. And I had to concur. And as the husband of someone who was going all the way to Florida and back on the bus, I was in no position to argue! So the decision was quickly made that we would bypass Midwest Express for once (even though we LOVE flying with them) and that I would also forego the convenience of a direct flight. And although my first choice was to leave midday Wednesday (I hoped to teach at least a little bit that day) it became evident that the only reasonably priced fares were for very very early departures. In fact, Kathy ended up selecting a flight which departed Milwaukee at 6 a.m. – which meant that I needed to be there no later than 5 a.m.- which meant leaving our house no later than 4:30 a.m.
As it turns out, I had a lot to take care of both for Carthage and WGTD before I could leave, and when I looked at the clock and saw that it was 12:45 a.m. and I was still finishing things up at the radio station, I decided then and there that I simply wouldn’t go to bed but would stay up straight through. (I just didn’t trust myself to leap out of bed when the alarm went off, and with no one else there except our two golden retrievers, it just seemed too risky.) So I stayed up through the night – which means that as I climbed aboard that Delta/ Northwest flight a few minutes before 6, I was feeling 30 % excited, 30% exhausted, and 40% sorry for myself. . . missing the leather seats and homemade chocolate chip cookies that are a hallmark of Midwest Express flights.
And then, that 40% of self-pity vanished as I boarded my connecting flight in Detroit, because I caught sight of a very special passenger who was about five rows ahead of me. She was a little girl who by my estimation was 5 or 6 years old- and judging from her nearly bald head, scars on her skull, and special mask she was wearing, she was contending with some sort of terribly serious health issue. As I walked down the center aisle of that plane, it was hard not to stare at that little girl and her mom sitting next to her and wonder what sort of awful odyssey they were traveling. And then I imagined this little girl in the happy swirl that is Disney World. . . realizing that while most girls have normal, everyday dreams, what this girl and her mom are dreaming of more than anything is that she will simply outlive whatever it is that is killing her.
I could not stop thinking about her the whole trip – and especially at one point when this girl and her mom got up to use the lavatory just ahead of where I was seated. The little girl went in first, all by herself, and was in there quite a long time before finally emerging. And then her mom went in and the little girl stood right outside the door, waiting patiently, looking inquisitively around the cabin, looking so adorable. And as I looked at her and wondered about what she has already suffered and what might be ahead for her, I was filled with this potent mix of gratitude and guilt. . . gratitude that my life has been remarkably free of suffering – and guilt that I could actually believe that it was a noble sacrifice on my part to forego the wide, leather seats of Midwest Express.
And when I first laid eyes on my niece Lorelai down in Florida, I gave her an extra long, hard squeeze – grateful beyond words that her young life has been untouched by anything remotely resembling what this little girl is facing.
Amazing how different the world can look depending on whose paths cross.
pictured above: I hope this isn’t a completely terrible thing I did. After we disembarked in Orlando, I took a picture from a distance of the mom (wearing blue) pushing her daughter in a wheel chair. It helps me to remember the encounter.