I taught my children that our moment, our opportunity to help someone in need, typically comes with little or no fanfare.
I went to Florida in 2000 to check out some Texas Rangers spring training action. It was a great trip. I took in as many games as I could. I saw the Reds, Pirates, and of course, the Rangers. It was a solo trip, and I had a lot of contemplative downtime as well.
Baseball is everywhere down there. MLB, minor league, whatever. I was in a restaurant one night, a down-home sort of place where I probably grabbed a burger or some such while reading the local paper.
Two guys came in who struck me as being ball players. In an area where shorts and flip flops were the norm, these men were in slacks, button-up shirts, and lace-up dress shoes. Athletic. They were perhaps Dominican or Puerto Rican. They sat down across the aisle from me and went unnoticed for a while.
A waitress stopped at their table abruptly.
“What are you guys doing here?”
They stared at her blankly.
“The sign says ‘Please wait to be seated.’ But no, ya’ll can’t read that, can you? Ya’ll aren’t supposed to just walk on in and sit anywhere you want. I cain’t do nothin’ to help you. This is AMERICA, and we speak English here.”
Her tone was clear enough, and two quiet, well-dressed young baseball players from another country bowed out and left without a word.
In the middle of all that I briefly considered stepping in to try and use my passable Spanish to help these guys get a meal. But I hesitated too long. I felt guilty about it after they left.
PLACE was conceived as an avenue to help hurting estranged parents. As time has gone on, this work has taught me that this community also needs advocates and representatives. I know that speaking up on our behalf to trolls, detractors, EAC, etc can be fruitless. Nevertheless, you are important, and I promise I will do my best to speak up for us.
