Last Friday was our town’s annual Christmas parade. My son and I walked the parade as part of his school’s Cub Scout pack. It was cold, but all the kids had a great time. We walked in front of a fire engine who’s driver enthusiastically honked that ultra loud, make-your-eardrums-bleed, emergency horn every couple of minutes. It kept the kids awake.
I thought little more about the parade until I got a heartwarming phone call from my wife yesterday morning. While she was dropping my son off at his classroom, one of the other moms came up to her and told my wife how much she thought of my son. She had just moved her slightly Autistic child to the school a couple of months ago and was impressed at how caring everyone was towards her son, my son especially. Her son is still involved with the scouts at his old school, and was marching with his old pack someplace else in the parade lineup. She told my wife that she and her son were behind a fire truck that just kept blowing its siren and horn and that all the noise was a little more than her child could handle.
Towards the end of the parade route we all started disbanding and moving off to the side of the street, and we suddenly had a mélange of scouts from different packs milling about the sidewalk. I lost sight of my son momentarily but had instituted a buddy rule at the beginning of the parade, so I wasn’t too worried. Sirens, lights, and marching bands added to the cacophony as we stood aside to let the large vehicles go by.
Little did I know that while I lost track of him my son saw his new classmate in the crowd and came up to him and held his hands over his classmates ears until the noise subsided. My son remembered his new classmate’s Autism, and how loud sounds affected him. I’m not sure if what he did helped, but the fact that he thought of someone’s anguish, in the middle of all the revelry, and even refrained from watching the sights to help someone else makes me proud of him. The child’s mother expressed her gratitude to my son, and my son took his place by my side, never once telling me about he had just done.
When kid’s are well behaved the parents can take the credit, but I don’t think compassion is something that can be taught. You either have it, or you don’t.



