Every now and then we all do something great, just not great enough to make the news.
I teach elementary school, and on the side I conduct an elementary school chorus. Each chorus performance spotlights soloists. One of the soloists I taught and featured in a performance was a girl named Carla. Carla caught my attention during the audition, but I didn’t have a song that suited her, and I told her so. A month later she sang an appropriate and catchy song she had practiced for a month. I liked what I heard and put her in the show. Carla had latent talent and succeeded in getting a solo in our big show because she had the desire, dedication, and determination.
A few years went by and I saw Carla in a pet supply shop. She was with her father, who happens to be the most popular TV weatherman in our city. I am positive that everywhere they go, people say, “Hey! Aren’t you _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _? You’re the weather guy, right?” But I’m Lost in Kids. I saw Carla, went over to her, hugged her, complimented her up and down because she is now a beautiful high school girl, reminisced about chorus, updated info on our lives, said goodbye, and I went back to my cash register line.
A couple of days later I saw her dad in the school office and there he was, the local weatherman that everybody in the city knows. I realized that I had barely spoken to him in the pet supply store because I had spent all my time talking to his daughter. I went to him, said hello, and then apologized for my slight in manners. I remember his words. “Don’t worry about it, Walter. It was a nice change.”
I thought about what he said and realized what he meant. I am proud of that silly moment. I guess that’s as great as I’ll get, but I’m Lost in Kids.