SAUCIER — Sticking to their story

I come from a storytelling family. That’s not unusual. It seems by nature, homo sapiens are a storytelling people. 

Stories are the way we remember, communicate, and consciously or not, express our values. 

At our annual family reunion, you can walk up to any small group and hear a story. It may be a long-ago memory or just a personal health update. But it is offered in the form of a story, complete with characters and action.

I was visiting with one of my sisters and asked her about a nearby boy whose name I could not remember.

She gave me his name, claimed him as her grandson and then told me his story.

On the first day of school this year, he and four of his friends were horsing around, happy to be reunited daily. They were fifth graders, the seniors of elementary school, and this was their year.

They entered the cafeteria, looked around and saw one student sitting alone at a table. As a group, they were drawn to him. 

From his perspective, though, this had to be a menacing sight, like the beaten man on the road to Jericho, eyeing the approach of a dreaded Samaritan.

They introduced themselves, but he didn’t respond. They quickly learned that he had Down Syndrome and was nonverbal.

This information, and the fact that he was a lowly third grader, didn’t deter them. The returned to his table the next morning and then the next. 

In what became a daily routine, they included him in their laughter and stories, kidding him like they did each other.

Someone discovered their new friend’s birthday, and unbeknownst to any of their parents, they got him some small gifts.

When the child brought those gifts home, his mother wondered where they came from. He couldn’t answer his mother, but his older sister told her they were from “his breakfast club.”

Through Facebook, his mother found out who those five boys were, contacted their families, and invited them to her son’s birthday party.

The “breakfast club” was featured on the local news and made their parents (and grandparents) understandably proud.

All this had little effect on the boys, though. They still meet every day, not because they’re doing something special, but because it is something friends do.

Hearing that story from my sister, I became a little watery-eyed, as did others in the group. 

I think those tears tell another story, one of the world we all long for.