ELECTRONIC HOUSE CALL - December 22, 1997

Following are some touching tales that were forwarded along to me by Walt Leaman, a crony from another life. While they don't have much to do with the hospitality business (although the second one comes close), they seemed to be appropriate for this time of year and certainly reflect the spirit that makes our industry so special. I pass them along with my very warmest wishes for the holiday season.

Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."

Back when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a boy entered a coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" "Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table, and the waitress was impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said angrily. The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream."

The waitress brought the ice cream and hurried away. The boy finished, paid the cashier, and departed. When the waitress came back, she swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies -- her tip.

Teacher Debbie Moon's first graders were discussing a picture of a family. One little boy in the picture had a different color hair than the other family members. One child suggested that he was adopted and a little girl named Jocelynn Jay said, "I know all about adoptions because I was adopted." "What does it mean to be adopted?" asked another child. "It means," said Jocelynn, "that you grew in your mommy's heart instead of her tummy."

In a small town in Spain, a man named Jorge had a bitter argument with his young son, Paco. The next day Jorge discovered that Paco's bed was empty -- he had run away from home. Overcome with remorse, Jorge searched his soul and realized that his son was the most important to him than anything else. He wanted to start over. Jorge went to a well-known store in the center of town and posted a large sign that read, "Paco, come home. I love you. Meet me here tomorrow morning."

The next morning Jorge went to the store, where he found no less than seven young boys named Paco who had also run away from home. They were all answering the call for love, hoping it was their father inviting them home with open arms.

A little girl whose parents had died lived with her grandmother and slept in an upstairs bedroom. One night there was a fire in the house and the grandmother perished while trying to rescue the child. The fires spread quickly, and the first floor was engulfed in flames. Neighbors called the fire department, then stood helplessly by, unable to enter the house because flames blocked all the entrances. The little girl appeared at an upstairs window, crying for help, just as word spread among the crowd that firefighters would be delayed a few minutes because they were all at another fire.

Suddenly, a man appeared with a ladder, put it up against the side of the house and disappeared inside. When he appeared, he had the little girl in his arms. He delivered the child to the waiting arms below, then disappeared into the night. An investigation revealed that the child had no living relatives, and weeks later a meeting was held in the town hall to determine who would take the child into their home and bring her up.

A teacher said she would raise the child. She pointed out she could ensure her a good education. A farmer offered her an upbringing on his farm. He pointed out that living on a farm was healthy and satisfying. Others spoke, giving their reasons why it was to the child's advantage to live with them. Finally, the town's richest resident arose and said, "I can give this child all the advantages that you have mentioned here, plus money and everything money can buy."

Throughout all this, the child remained silent, her eyes on the floor. "Does anyone else want to speak?" asked the meeting chairman. A man came forward from the back of the hall. His gait was slow and he seemed in pain. When he got to the front of the room, he stood directly before the little girl and held out his arms. The crowd gasped. His hand and arms were terribly scarred. The child cried out, "This is the man who rescued me!" With a leap, she threw her arms around the man's neck, holding on for dear life, just as she had that fateful night. She buried her face on his shoulder and sobbed for a few moments. Then she looked up and smiled at him. "This meeting is adjourned," said the chairman.

As I was driving home from work one day, I stopped to watch a local Little League baseball game that was being played in a park near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on the first-baseline, I asked one of the boys what the score was. "We're behind 14 to nothing," he answered with a smile. "Really," I said. "I have to say you don't look very discouraged." "Discouraged?" the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face. "Why should we be discouraged? We haven't even had our chance to bat yet."

Whenever I'm disappointed with my spot in my life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott. Jamie was trying out for a part in a school play. His mother told me that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen. On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement. "Guess what Mum," he shouted, and then said those words that will remain a lesson to me: "I've been chosen to clap and cheer."

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