You know it's summer when you see a gaggle of kids, all in summer togs, following behind, and being followed by, adult supervision. Typically they are headed somewhere - as evidenced by wild excitement, or coming back - as evidenced by tired listless steps. Normally I pay no never mind to the sight, as commonplace as ice cream vendors on the streets of the city. But, the traffic was slow. I looked to my right. The children came by, two by two, holding hands as instructed, eyes wide looking at everything there is to see. There is more to see the younger you are. I noticed that one of the children was a boy with Down Syndrome, wearing a light blue shirt and white pants. Like all the others, he was dressed for summer. Like all the others he was delighting in seeing what was to be seen on the walk. The girl who's hand he held was distracted, suddenly when a loud noise burst from a construction site nearby. The boy held her hand and patted it reassuringly. They went ahead.
That's all I saw.
But what I felt was awe.
The history behind that boy, is a proud one.
The people behind the history behind the boy, were heroic.
The dream behind the people behind the history behind the boy, was visionary.
The faith behind the dream behind the people behind the history behind the boy, was powerful.
The idea behind the faith behind the dream behind the people behind the history behind the boy, was revolutionary.
And I got to see it.
I got to see what ideas and faith, and dreams, and people can do to make history that affects the life of one boy on one street in one city in Canada.
Parents helped a little boy get to summer camp. They probably drove him there and dropped him off. I wonder if they understood that his walk, down the street, holding hands with another child was something that was made possible by the inspiration behind the idea behind the faith behind the dream behind the people that formed the history into which their child would enter and continue on.