NASHVILLE — Nathan is 12. He is on his way to soccer practice. His mother is driving. He is in the backseat of the car. He sees something.
Sean Dietrich (Photo courtesy of seandietrich.com)
“Pull over, Mom!” says Nathan.
She does.
It’s a family, walking along the shoulder of the road. They are Latino. A woman pushes a stroller, two young boys walk behind her. None of them speak much English.
But this is no problem. Nathan has been taking Spanish in school. Nathan translates. He tells his mother that the family’s car has broken down.
So, his mother calls a tow truck. While they wait, Nathan’s mother treats the family to supper. They carry on choppy conversations in broken tongues. Nathan translates the best he can.
By the end of the night, two families have become friends. And to shorten a long story, today Nathan is a grown man who can say things in Spanish. For instance, Nathan tells me in an email: “Did you know that ‘bondad’ means ‘goodness’ in Spanish? It’s my favorite word.”
Qué excelente, Nathan.
KATY, Tex. — She is an EMT student. She doesn’t know whether she wants this for a career. She’s been on ride-alongs, sitting in ambulances, watching emergency workers. She has seen some terrible scenes. She’s just not sure.
“The first accident I ever saw,” she says, “was so traumatic, I couldn’t stop thinking about it for months. I just didn’t know if I was cut out to be a paramedic.”
One night, she is walking into a movie theater. She sees an old woman leaving the theater. The woman stumbles on the curb and falls onto her face.
Blood. Broken bones. Hollering. It is a mess.
The EMT in her kicks into action. The staff brings her an emergency first-aid kit. She dresses the woman’s wounds, just like she’d been studying to do. She immobilizes the woman’s neck. She keeps everyone calm.
“I was cool under pressure,” she says. “It surprised me. I was like, ‘Hey, I can actually do this.’”
She rides with the woman to the hospital. She calls the family and tells them the lady is all right.
Today, she’s a 10-year first-responder veteran. A paramedical instructor. A mother of three. A hero.
CHANUTE, Kan. — Gary has no high school education, a minimum wage fast-food job, and not much money. He’s dropped out of school to become a full-time caregiver to his older brother, who is in a wheelchair.
Gary’s brother needs help bathing himself, feeding himself, and using the bathroom.
Looking after his brother is more important than textbooks and pencil sharpeners. Doctors don’t know how much time Gary’s brother has left. And as it happens, Gary’s brother doesn’t have much time. He dies when Gary is 24.
A few weeks after the funeral, a man shows up on Gary’s porch. He is a distant cousin. He is a pipe-welder. He tells Gary he is moved by his dedication to his brother. The cousin wants to pay for welding school if he is interested.
“No thanks,” says Gary. “I don’t wanna be a welder.”
“Think it over,” the man goes on. “Welders make good money.”
It is quite an offer from a half-stranger. Gary mulls it over. He takes him up on the offer. And as fate has it, he is a natural welder. He is not only good at welding, today he is an expert underwater welder.
Currently, he has seen almost every state in the Lower 48, and even gone to Hawaii once. And as of last year, he just completed his college education. He majored in English.
“Welding school changed my life,” says Gary. “It’s funny, I wish my brother could see me now, I think he’d be proud of me.”
I have more stories I want to tell you—a lot more—but I don’t have enough energy. I’m still getting over a bout with COVID. Before I go, however, there’s something I received in the mail a few days ago. The letter was from Nashville, from a man who teaches Spanish for a living, and coaches soccer on the weekends. He’s a cool guy.
A man who says his career path all began when his mother gave a ride to strangers once, when he was a boy. Funny how one mother’s split-second decision can make such a lifelong impact on a kid.
The letter reads: “I truly believe there’s more good (bondad) out there than we as a culture allow ourselves to acknowledge.”
Sean Dietrich (Photo courtesy of seandietrich.com)
Sean of the South: Goodness Gracias
By Sean Dietrich, Sean of the South
Commentary
NASHVILLE — Nathan is 12. He is on his way to soccer practice. His mother is driving. He is in the backseat of the car. He sees something.
Sean Dietrich (Photo courtesy of seandietrich.com)
“Pull over, Mom!” says Nathan.
She does.
It’s a family, walking along the shoulder of the road. They are Latino. A woman pushes a stroller, two young boys walk behind her. None of them speak much English.
But this is no problem. Nathan has been taking Spanish in school. Nathan translates. He tells his mother that the family’s car has broken down.
So, his mother calls a tow truck. While they wait, Nathan’s mother treats the family to supper. They carry on choppy conversations in broken tongues. Nathan translates the best he can.
By the end of the night, two families have become friends. And to shorten a long story, today Nathan is a grown man who can say things in Spanish. For instance, Nathan tells me in an email: “Did you know that ‘bondad’ means ‘goodness’ in Spanish? It’s my favorite word.”
Qué excelente, Nathan.
KATY, Tex. — She is an EMT student. She doesn’t know whether she wants this for a career. She’s been on ride-alongs, sitting in ambulances, watching emergency workers. She has seen some terrible scenes. She’s just not sure.
“The first accident I ever saw,” she says, “was so traumatic, I couldn’t stop thinking about it for months. I just didn’t know if I was cut out to be a paramedic.”
One night, she is walking into a movie theater. She sees an old woman leaving the theater. The woman stumbles on the curb and falls onto her face.
Blood. Broken bones. Hollering. It is a mess.
The EMT in her kicks into action. The staff brings her an emergency first-aid kit. She dresses the woman’s wounds, just like she’d been studying to do. She immobilizes the woman’s neck. She keeps everyone calm.
“I was cool under pressure,” she says. “It surprised me. I was like, ‘Hey, I can actually do this.’”
She rides with the woman to the hospital. She calls the family and tells them the lady is all right.
Today, she’s a 10-year first-responder veteran. A paramedical instructor. A mother of three. A hero.
CHANUTE, Kan. — Gary has no high school education, a minimum wage fast-food job, and not much money. He’s dropped out of school to become a full-time caregiver to his older brother, who is in a wheelchair.
Gary’s brother needs help bathing himself, feeding himself, and using the bathroom.
Looking after his brother is more important than textbooks and pencil sharpeners. Doctors don’t know how much time Gary’s brother has left. And as it happens, Gary’s brother doesn’t have much time. He dies when Gary is 24.
A few weeks after the funeral, a man shows up on Gary’s porch. He is a distant cousin. He is a pipe-welder. He tells Gary he is moved by his dedication to his brother. The cousin wants to pay for welding school if he is interested.
“No thanks,” says Gary. “I don’t wanna be a welder.”
“Think it over,” the man goes on. “Welders make good money.”
It is quite an offer from a half-stranger. Gary mulls it over. He takes him up on the offer. And as fate has it, he is a natural welder. He is not only good at welding, today he is an expert underwater welder.
Currently, he has seen almost every state in the Lower 48, and even gone to Hawaii once. And as of last year, he just completed his college education. He majored in English.
“Welding school changed my life,” says Gary. “It’s funny, I wish my brother could see me now, I think he’d be proud of me.”
I have more stories I want to tell you—a lot more—but I don’t have enough energy. I’m still getting over a bout with COVID. Before I go, however, there’s something I received in the mail a few days ago. The letter was from Nashville, from a man who teaches Spanish for a living, and coaches soccer on the weekends. He’s a cool guy.
A man who says his career path all began when his mother gave a ride to strangers once, when he was a boy. Funny how one mother’s split-second decision can make such a lifelong impact on a kid.
The letter reads: “I truly believe there’s more good (bondad) out there than we as a culture allow ourselves to acknowledge.”
I believe that, too, Nathan.
Gracias.