ANTHONY’ HEART
Last summer I took my twelve year old grandson to New York City for the first time in his life. Taking the Long Island railroad off prime time, he looked around at the sparsely filled train and said “I guess a lot of people don’t go to the city in the summer”, I smiled and thought, wait till we come home at rush hour.
We pulled into Penn Station which had significantly more people milling about, I felt him move a little closer to me. As we emerged from below street level up onto the street his face opened up, his eyes wide looking at the amazing expanse of skyscrapers, throngs of traffic darting in and out honking horns, and people of all sizes, shapes and all kinds of dress, some rather spectacular. This included people on soap boxes talking loud and sometimes ranting at the crowds and everyone just hurrying on by, and horses mounted by larger then life police officers, vendors on street corners selling papers, novelties and knock off’s of famous designers. He tried his best to remain nonchalant as teens do, but his face kept blowing his cover.
We got on a crowded city bus and traveled all the way down to China town. The sights that I was so used to sprung up to me anew as I saw things from Anthony’s eyes. The telephone booths shaped like pagodas, curiosity shops with novelties spilling out onto the sidewalks, people speaking all manner of languages, vendors yelling out after me as we walked by “Lady, lady come in, see what we have here”. Never has he seen such crowds. I saw discovery and awe on his face even though he tried to look as if he has seen this many times before. We took pictures in front of the shops; we walked through the old stores that sold ancient statues of meditative Buddha’s, golden serpents and fire breathing dragons. We stopped in the markets that sold octopus, squid and dried up old looking herbs. I saw him roll his eyes and wrinkle his nose. This was no Mac Donald’s.
We walked through Little Italy, ate Pizza and a Calzone. We stopped at the shops and bought tee-shirts that shouted our culture with funny sayings. I bought one for his father that said’I survived an Italian mother in-law.’ Anthony got a real kick out of that one. I was touched that he made sure he bought just the right thing for is parents and his younger brother. What a nice boy, I thought to set his own wants aside to make sure he arrived home with gifts aside to make sure he arrived home with gifts for all. We bought an Italian ice from a street vendor and retreated to the steps of an old church inside a gated courtyard with garden statues and old mosaic sanctuaries. It was a nice time out from the busy streets. We talked quietly about the day and I got to know Anthony better
As we walked uptown looking in shop window and under some scaffolding a slightly deranged man with long white wild hair and long beard riding his bike like a fiend yelling at the top of his lungs something no one understood. Anthony stepped aside just in time to avoid being struck. He looked at me and said “We should have taken a picture of him; Mom would never believe this one without a picture. Another sight he has not seen in the mountains of his Georgia home.
The next place we visited were the art galleries of SoHo where he saw creations exhibited in such care and appreciation. The price tags of thousands of dollars amazed both of us. He has always been the creative one in the family, drawing designing writing, composing music. He never thought of the possibilities that reached this far ahead.
As our day ended and we were headed back to Penn Station we saw a middle aged man sitting on the cement leaning against the subway fence with a big cardboard sign that said “Help me, some one stole my suitcase and my train tickets, I live upstate and I have no money. I was just about to pass on by. Unfortunately this was a sight I had grown accustomed to.
Anthony stopped short. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket without reservation. He took out $60.00 in twenties; money he had saved for this trip. His face was as open as his wallet; generosity without judgment, compassion and kindness without thought for himself. It never occurred to him to ask questions or feel suspicious. He saw a need and responded with love. I saw Anthony’s heart that day and it was beautiful. He taught me how to see with my heart that day. I explained to him that we would not give all of our money but we would give some to the man in need and we will pray that he safely finds his way home. I watched his face on the way home, his grief and concern for this man, startled at the sight that he had seen.
His first encounter with despair. He turned to me and said, “Grandma that must be horrible, no money and no one to help”. I said “I know sweetheart, but we did what we had the power to do by giving him some of what we had and saying prayers for others to do the same. Let’s keep our faith that whatever his needs, they be filled and for him to be protected and guided on his way
I had so carefully planned the sights I wanted him to experience, all except that one, the one that made the most lasting impression.
Namaste |