Point of View

 

I was underneath my flowering plum this afternoon digging up dandelions and pulling sour grass before it got a chance to take root when my neighbor, Gerry, walked by. She asked if I didn't think my ornamental tree looked especially beautiful this year.

Gerry has Alzheimer's, and has for at least ten years. Sometimes she does pretty well, walking around the neighborhood, visiting with everyone. Other times her husband, obviously nervous, comes around asking if anyone has seen her.

After she walked on, I got to thinking about her optimistic attitude and never failing joy at life. A few weeks ago Ryanne was doing a homework assignment about the Civil War. I helped her with answers to questions like who was Robert E. Lee and who was Abraham Lincoln, but when she came to the question “What can we do to make the world a better place?” she didn't hesitate. “Drive electric cars.”

Of course, everything comes down to point of view. For a fifth grader in Bellingham, Washington, a fifth grader whose best friend is not standard white American, who has had an African American school teacher, and daily sees people of different races getting along just fine, the question didn't appear to have anything to do with war or race relations. From her point of view, if you want to make the world a better place, you tackle pollution.

I pondered such things as I crawled and grunted under the tree, until it occurred to me that Gerry's mind can no longer process a lot of things, but she still finds the beauty and joy around her. I had a carton full of pulled weeds and debris before it occurred to me to look up.

Above me chickadees flitted from branch to branch in a pink canopy of fluffy blossoms while I had been focussed on the dirt and weeds below.

Nancy Sherer

 

 


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