The Plausable last chapter of this little book. ... maybe.

I have been known to wine that I have written a hundred “last Chapters.”  And, I seem to find myself on some other new remarkable encounter with so another extraordinary ordinary person. I could make another short book of short stories about notable moments with ordinary people, but I must finish this one first.  With that I think I’ll share with you the moment that I realized I was here to do this simple thing, to draw smiles, for a reason.  

It was a grief camp. Not for me, but a Girl Scout-sponsored camp for teens and kids who have experienced the death of one or both of their parents. You’d be surprised at how many of those kids there were.  You would be even greater surprised by the number and the quality of volunteers there to help these kids cope and grow.  Counselor and psychology majors working on their various degrees and finding the time to assist in making a horrible world to these kids into a world within themselves that they could understand and grow with.  And this enormous task starts with a single week at a summer camp.  Camp El Tesoro, TX. Just outside of Grapevine, TX and on the banks of the Brazos River.

I’m confident that during this week of their supervised escaping of reality included tears, laughter, hugs, frustrations, hurt feelings, release and joy and a whirlwind of other complicated emotions.  I’m confident that this week probably hosted moments of greatness in summer camp pranks. Jokes. Crafts,, and gatherings to squeeze the real kid that they held hidden deep inside of themselves because … well its what you instinctively do;  all these summer camp moments pul the spirit of the kid back into the world.  Or so I speculate.

I was only privy to one evening with this large group of kids at Grief Camp. Some first time students several repeat attendees and even a few who attended Grief Camp, but are here to lead as mentors and counselors to the first time and second-year kids. So much social support at this place, during this time.  The last night of camp. The goodbye dance. After the spaghetti dinner, a social function to be the end of all social services was to commence precisely one hour after the flag was taken down for the day. The Grief Camp Goodbye Party.  Friends say goodby to friends. New and old acquaintances, Kids say goodbye to hurtful, sad, memories. Almost all of them say goodbye to a parent. Even if they think of them and still love them every day. Many kids say goodbye to their old self in a shell and hello to their new person shining bright.  

I said hello to every one of them I met and drew.  Like all events, I was non stop busy drawing one after another. After a while, I begin to notice that all the first year kids had their personal mentor with them at all times and all activities. The mentors to the first year kids basically became the kids' shadow. There was this one first time kid that I drew that I saw the logic and the need for this shadow mentor to take place.  These kids have built up solid walls of protection from anyone getting in to hurt them again, (emotionally speaking).  And there are times when a crack of light shines through their depths of despair, that’s when the mentors jump in and rescue that little glimmer of light. It may not break the whole wall down at that moment, but it can remove a block or two at a time. One of my caricatures that night knocked a few blocks out of that little girl's wall. Her mentor and I worked together and got the kid to interact with me for nothing more than a name and favorite color.   Then the drawing was completed, and when I showed it to her, she brightened up, and a smile came across her face, and a tear came down her cheek. “I look like my mom!” She said, and bam. The mentor had a few other counselors over the waterworks ensued. The reals were astounding for that young lady.  Everyone around, her friends, the staff and I had watery eyes.  The mentor for this girl looked at me as they walked off and whispered: “Thank You.”  All I could do was smile back. “No, thank you,” I said.  

Isn’t that the best moment ever?   I mean really, what better way to close a little book of tidbits about making magical little moments one smile at a time than a story when I was just floored with empathy and understanding of what power my quick little cartoon sketches of smiles had. I could open hearts, heal emotional wounds without even knowing it. The power of nice is enormous.  It may not always be recognizable of the impact, and the effect most often will be minimal. Sometimes, you get a glimpse of the magic and how it has affected your quest.  I always think to myself, job well is done and thanks for the moment to be a small part of someone's life.  So I’m ending this little reader with the story of the Goodby Party, and for now, I say, Goodby.



*** So what do ya''think? is this a good way to end a short book of short essays about my 7 years drawing smiles at Disney?   Please and thank you.  Ty