It Just Angered Me
On my drive to work today I passed a young boy who couldn’t have been older than 10 and barely pushing 4 1/2 feet walking to school lugging his book bag on his back and French horn case in his left hand. He leaned to the right like a stiff wind was pushing him over to keep the thing from dragging on the ground. Each step looked labored and more than once he stumbled.
The scene angered me for a number of reasons.
One, I’m assuming the kid was walking to the nearest elementary school, still a good half-mile down the road, and that he came from the neighborhood at least a quarter-mile behind him. Quite a walk when you’re carrying your body weight in luggage and your legs can’t be more than two feet long.
Two, what kind of parent would send their fourth grader walking at least 3/4 of a mile like that? At least get the kid a luggage carrier with wheels so he can pull the case and book bag. Maybe you think I’m soft, that it won’t kill the kid to do a little manual labor twice a day. Okay, maybe I am. I just felt for him and wanted to help. Which leads to . . .
Three. I did want to help him. I wanted to pull over and give him a lift to school or at least park my car and carry the horn case for him. Now, I know what you’re thinking. It was the same thing I thought. Yeah, right, and get some concerned parent calling the cops on me for being some kind of pervert. And the thing that angered me is that they should. It’s what I would do. What kind of a world do we live in where you can’t even help out a kid without fear of winding up in the back of a squad car?
It just angered me is all. The poor kid was on his own and society said I couldn’t help him.