A Change of Heart

It’s been a long time since I took a three week vacation, and I wasn’t quite certain what to expect. Time does take its toll on all of us even when we try to deny it.

To my absolute delight, all went well, and there were no unexpected surprises, except one.

I met someone who totally changed my viewpoint on an important current issue.

And, yes, your are right. He is dark and handsome. However, he is not very tall, but that is only due to the fact that he is nine years old.

Israel is the son of my daughter’s housekeeper, Rosa. She and I had met briefly on an earlier visit, but our paths had not crossed in the past decade. I did recall being told she had a son born the same month as Hannah, our great granddaughter.

Jim and Julie were both working this week, and I was alone in the house when Rosa and Israel arrived. It was quickly apparent they were both a bit apprehensive about encountering the east coast visitor who spoke no Spanish.

However, since Israel is bilingual, he quickly assisted in the communication between his Mom and me. Also, because he and I bonded almost immediately, due to today’s common language, technology, we had no problem communicating.

The moment this enchanting young boy saw my Ipad, his eyes lit up. When I handed it to him and suggested he explore all the amazing possibilities it offers, we became instant friends.

While his Mom continued with her normal schedule in the household, Israel and I watched Hook together. When the film ended, he told me about his computer lessons with the YMCA and his life in general. He explained he and his Mom live alone and during summer recess, he goes to “work” daily with her. I didn’t question him, but assume when he is older perhaps he will be required to assist her. However, I did not ask.

Israel is a charmer, polite, courteous, well spoken and generous. He was dressed in an immaculate, white T shirt, navy shorts and Nike sneakers, identical to the attire I saw on the young guests at a recent west coast party, As soon as he opened the luncheon Rosa had prepared for him at home, he graciously offered me some of his favorite treats, plump, ruby red strawberries nestled in a plastic container.

In return I shared some of the madeleines my son had bought for me, and he told me he loved the “little breads.”

After lunch, I mentioned how impressed I was with his bilingual skill, and murmured I wished I knew some Spanish. He quickly offered to teach me a few fundamental phrases, After a few brief lessons, we practiced the pronunciation together. While he smiled gently at my lack of expertise, he never ridiculed or laughed at me.

Before leaving, Israel thoughtfully typed my Spanish lesson into the IPad, and suggested I practice the pronunciation daily.

I doubt if our paths will cross again. I leave for home shortly, and will be gone before he returns with his Mom next week, However, while I will practice the phrases as I promised, there is no need for me to practice remembering Israel. That would take a very, very long time.

Not many people have been able to influence my thinking and political philosophy as much as this child did during the few hours we shared on a sunny afternoon in San Diego.