SAXTONS RIVER-Decades ago, I took on a months-long job as a full-time babysitter for a wealthy family with two jobs and two kids. A 2½-year-old boy would be my main charge, and his month-old brother would also pass on to me when his mother returned to her employment after a maternity leave.
That mild-mannered, contented infant seemed unlikely to require more than routine feedings, comfort, and stimulation, but his brother was in another class.
Inquisitive, physically robust, and outgoing, Russell was a test for us all, and when, after our first encounter, Mom heard how much I liked him, she sighed with relief.
Russell was high energy, precociously verbal, and inclined to emotional outbursts. Right from the start, we had fallen in love with each other.
On most days I would take the boys to a nearby playground. Generally I would merely observe Russell's free play, keeping tabs on him while baby continued to sleep on my back.
One day, close to our usual time for returning home, I watched as Russell suddenly approached a younger child in the sandbox, snatched away a toy and tossed the stolen goods into the trash, as the helpless child in the sandbox wailed.
Without hesitation, I retrieved the toy, returned it to its rightful owner, and then, seeing a grandmotherly figure approach, apologized and withdrew.
The child continued to whimper as we were leaving, and as we exited onto the paved sidewalk one could still hear crying.
A few yards along the path, Russell turned to me and asked, "Why is he still crying?"
"Well, his grandma is comforting him but he's still upset," I replied. "She'll make him feel better."
There was an audible silence from my usually outspoken charge. Then he turned to me and asked, "Will I still be able to hear him cry when we get home?"
The child's empathy for the victim of a hurtful act for which he had received no punishment - my assumption being that his target had been a proxy for the new brother that had absorbed so much parental attention - periodically resurfaces in my memory, three decades later.
It's a tribute to an assertive child's capacity to care about that needy playground child - a capacity most of us share in regard to the needs of others even when our actions are implicated as the cause.
That incident came to mind when I reflected on the recent outcries of beleaguered Brattleboro residents, whose comfort level and even commercial interests have been impinged upon by the public displays of indecent, unruly, and sometimes destructive actions of the town's large homeless population.
Let us hope that in protecting their rights of person and property they can still hear the perhaps now-more-distant cries of those in need.
Helen Neswald
Saxtons River
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