Eye of the Tiger

The other day we visited Tiger Hill. I’m sure you’ve seen other posts from my teammates about the 1,287 stepped-feat. I did about 100. Ha. Anyhow, after I took the scary descent back to the safety of dirt beneath my feet, I sat on a nearby bench (away from the Monkeys) and took in the scenery. An old woman sat begging on the side of the road. She held her blue change bucket out before her shaking it gently at passerby. Her skin was wrinkled and tanned deeply from the scorching sun. Adults barely acknowledged her presence, passing her without hesitation.
A flock of school children no older than grade four began marching in her direction. They called hello to me, waving and giggling as they passed. Their gorgeous smiles made me break into one of my own and return the wave probably too eagerly. As they neared the old woman, her basket now beside her, their attention transitioned from me to her. There was no deliberation, no whispers of approval, they just reached their tiny fingers into their pockets and colorful purses and offer her temple hands, greeted her, and dropped change into her bucket. First one child, then another, and another and so on. I could hear the clang of their metal change ringing as it hit the bottom of the plastic bucket. They were so little, so humble, so giving … We could learn a lot from children. At what point from childhood to becoming men and women do we lose “that thing.” That innocence. “That thing” that makes us reach into our pockets rather than turn away. Just food for thought. 