It was at one of those walk-away
ice cream stands on the boardwalk in Wildwood, NJ, that I had the pleasure of
witnessing a hero in action! I was about 10 years old at the time and my
parents, my brother, Jody, and I were in Wildwood for our yearly vacation. The
day was blisteringly hot, so of course, we kids begged for ice cream! Dad trudged with us through the pure white,
lava-hot sand up to the boardwalk where heaven awaited us in the form of
double-dip chocolate ice cream cones.
A young father (who seemed so very
old at the time to me) and his two little kids were ahead of us in line. His
son seemed to be no more than about 5 of 6 years old at the most, and the
little girl seemed to be about 3. They danced
impatiently from foot to foot as all kids do, as they watched the man behind
the counter dip their ice cream cones. The little boy got his first, a cone
wrapped in a napkin but already sending down rivulets of melting ice cream all
over his hand. His licked his cone with gusto, with his little sister looking
on, barely able to contain herself. At last, her cone was ready. As her dad
handed it to her, Jody and I edged a little closer to the ice cream stand. The
trio turned to walk away when all of a sudden, tragedy struck!
The little girl’s nose accidentally
connected with the ball of ice cream, and in so doing, caused the icy treat to
teeter on the edge of the cone. Falling victim to the law of gravity, seemingly
in slow-motion the ice cream followed its trajectory to the ground, and landed
with a sad and gooey plop. The child’s sweet, cherubic little face changed
expression in an instant – from a chocolate-dotted nose atop a happy smile to a
grimace of disbelief and then, to a mask of down-right grief. Tears squeezed
out of tightly-closed eyes as she began to cry. Hardly missing a beat, her
older brother momentarily looked at his ice cream cone, tucked the napkin a
little tighter around it and with great ceremony, handed it to his sister.
Everyone around us “Aww’ed!” and “Ohhhh’ed!” and nodded our heads in
approval. I swear, about five adults
rushed to the counter, offering to buy the boy another cone. My dad beat them
all to it, including the kids’ father.
But I learned that day that the real hero was that little boy who gave
up his ice cream to make his sister happy again.
I ask you: If that little boy wasn’t a real hero, then
who is!
Writers Group
Assignment for Sept. 16, 2011