It was late in the afternoon and I was finishing up working in the garden when I turned around and watched two teenage boys walking along the creek. I called to them, letting them know I wanted to talk to them. One child crossed the creek, but kept walking. The other with the hood of his white sweatshirt pulled up and over his head, covering much of his face, just kept walking along the creek. I called again, “Excuse Me”, “Hello”. “I’d like to talk to you”. They never looked up at me. They just kept on walking. I kept walking towards them, changing my trajectory, as they walked along the creek. My calls appeared unheard. Then I was standing right next to the child on my side of the creek and he stopped. I could see a smile on his face, but read it as only a mother could. He wasn’t exactly happy. I asked his name, Rasheed. I asked his friends name. Max. I asked Rasheed why he didn’t stop when I called to him. He said, “I though you’d tell me to get out of here”.
“Here” is a bucolic 42-acre estate that I am currently care taking. When I say bucolic I mean, meadows, ancient trees, rose bushes, meandering creek, waterfalls, ponds, wildlife and buildings from the gilded age. It is located very close to the north boundary of Philadelphia and recently we’ve had some vandalism. I’ve been on the look out.
“No”, I said, “we want you here. We want you on our team. We want you to help us keep this place safe and beautiful”. We shook hands and I asked him were he learned to ignore people who are trying to talk with him. I told him he had to learn that from someone. I could see, like only a parent can, that he was thinking about that.
Then I told them what happens when people walk through the estate. “They heal”, I said, “It’s a scientific fact that walking in nature can reduce stress and anxiety”. Rasheed and Max listened as I went on to tell them that we want them to enjoy this place, protect it and love it. I told them that I appreciated them shaking my hand, remembering my name and taking the time to listen to me. Twenty minutes of rambling about the beehives and the hawks, about respecting the land and having manners. My children would have been wiggling, writhing and looking past me as I went on and on. But Max and Rasheed had a few things to say too. Max wanted to know where I’ve seen snakes. Rasheed told me where he had seen a turtle.
When I figured they could take no more of my expounding oratory, I shook their hands once again and said enjoy your walk.
They walked along the creek, Rasheed with the hood of his white sweatshirt still pulled up and over his head, but this time when I called to them one last good-bye, they turned and waved. waterfall