Neighborhood Notes: A sidewalk encounter

By PAUL WIEMAN

A few days ago, on a glorious sun-soaked morning, I wandered down to the end of my front walk to examine our garden after having left it alone for three days as my wife and I went on a little trip. As I was there, a father and his two young daughters walked by, obviously headed up to the school playground.  The older girl, about 5 or so, was clearly leading the charge, excited and eager to get to the playground, while the younger one, about 3, was dawdling her way up the hill. Meanwhile, the father, in the middle, was working to navigate the best way to manage the two different speeds.

As they passed, the little one stopped directly in front of me, squared her shoulders, looked me directly in the eye, and asked, in that wonderful 3-year- old, sing-songy and perfectly clear voice, “Would you like some help?”

Now, no one that age had ever asked me that before, certainly not a stranger, but I was quick to respond. “Actually, I don’t need any help right now, but there will come a time when I will, and when that time comes, I hope that you are nearby.”

The dad had slowed down to observe this little scene, even as his other daughter ran ahead, and his reaction was very impressive … instead of hustling her along, or addressing me, or doing any of a number of things a parent might do, he got down at her level and said, gently, “What a nice offer you made to this man. I am proud of you.”  

And then, just like that, the little vignette was over and the three carried on to the playground.

I have thought a lot about this little scene since it happened. If I had been quick and clever and a little bit cruel, I might have responded with, “well, actually, my gravel driveway could use about 30 minutes of weeding, and as long as you offered …”  But I am not quick and clever, and I don’t see myself as cruel, so that response arrived too late for the scene, thankfully.

What inspired this young person to offer as she did? Three-year-olds are not known for strong filters in their language and observations, so I took her words at face value. She paused, looked at me, and offered assistance, because, I imagine, she wanted to give assistance, at some level. How absolutely lovely that at that moment in time, that was her view and her idea, and without any hesitation, she offered it.  

Many years ago, back in the mid-1980s, I was walking the school hallway where I was teaching, chatting with a colleague who was the college counselor. As we turned the corner, we nearly tripped over a discarded bookbag, not an unusual sight in a high school hallway, but what was different here was atop the bag were a set of keys, a wallet, a high-end calculator, and a laptop, back when laptops were rare within school environments.

My immediate reaction was to question how the student could be so careless and that this was just a problem waiting to happen, whereby something completely preventable would then become a big issue requiring investigations, discipline, and more. Mine was a typical reaction to a typical high school scene.

But my colleague had a completely different take.

“I want to live in that world … a world where I can just drop my valuables in a public space and have not a care or worry, assuming that they will be there when I return, even though 100 or more people will pass by. How great is that world. My world is much darker and full of problems, and I miss the world of this student.”

Instead of discipline and institutional problems, she saw a person behind the bookbag, an adolescent that was not careless, but enviable.

I thought of that scenario from 40 years ago after I met this little girl on my sidewalk. I want to live in her world. I want to live in a world in which strangers lead with, “Would you like some help?” and parents compliment their children for stopping to address a stranger in this manner.  

I do not know this little girl or her father or sister. I have not seen them pass by but this one time. Perhaps they were visiting relatives in the neighborhood and took a break to go to the playground. Perhaps they have recently moved to Katonah, and this was the first of many sidewalk encounters. But for now, I want to extend a thank you to this particular 3-year-old. Thank you for showing me a serene reality that contrasts so vividly with what I see so often in today’s cynical times.

Thank you for stopping and speaking to me and inviting me into your beautiful and wonderful world.

Paul Wieman is a retired educator. His “Neighborhood Notes” column will offer occasional observations about the Katonah neighborhood he has lived in for 35 years.