TUPATALK: Beyond the fears, tears

“Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.”

— Robert Louis Stevenson

I’ve always been in awe of those who reach out to provide guidance and meaning at a crucial time in a youngster’s life.

One of these categories is coaches, some voluntary and some subsidized by schools.

Others are neighbors, relatives, fellow church members, friends, teachers, youth organization employees and volunteers and others.

Children and teenagers need to feel like they belong to something, like they are important to someone.

That’s one of the reasons I’m so upset at the disappearance of 14-and-under league baseball leagues in Bartlesville. This program’s greatest value went beyond baseball and helping prepare the next generation for school ball and all that — the real value was the positive impact it had on individual youth, especially those who need to feel friendship and connection with other kids and the right kind of role models.

I’ll always be grateful to a Scoutmaster in my church troop who brought the buys in our neighborhood together and made each of us feel important — and important to each other.

There were only five of us. Even though it was more than 50 years ago, I remember everyone’s name, the troop jobs we filled, the campouts were we beat out larger troops for medals and honors.

I’m sure many of you who no longer put candles on the birthday cake can remember back to a teacher, coach, a scout leader, a church leader, a cousin, an uncle or aunt, an adult guy or gal on your block or other people that boosted your self-image when it mattered the most.

I think of an older gentleman who live across the street and paid me $25 to work in his year — far more than I probably really earned — so I could have the money to take my girlfriend to a prom.

One of my seven great uncles provided some very great memories for me. A dentist, he worked on my teeth. He knew with didn’t have any money and let me pay it off by straightening a storeroom in the back of the small clinic where he worked alongside another wonderful uncle.

Years later, the wife of the uncle who had worked on my teeth passed away on a Saturday. Despite his grief, he joined several other relatives in traveling to my church the next day where I was part of a special program.

I think of a high school football coach that gave me a second chance as a team manager — and opened a door for an unforgettable experience.

During the years as I’ve learned about Bartlesville’s sports tradition — particularly while researching for the Bartlesville Athletic Hall of Fame programs — I’ve come to appreciate a wave of individuals who influenced many young people to make good decisions and to go on to strive to live happy and successful lives.

It’s reminded me true value is not in the acquisition of wealth but in its giving away something on one’s self to others.

I woke up one morn to the robin’s song,

it cheered my heart, lightened my burden,

I built a cage, heavy and strong,

where I could encase the bird and

own its beautiful melody alone.

But, the next day, no sound filled the air,

my feathered conquest lie dead,

broken-hearted; I was bereft.

Through my tears, I realized

it had lived to gladden the ears and souls

of all that came near its tree-top domain.

Gifts of love are meant to uplift

the weary mind, brighten the dark horizon.

(MJT)

This article originally appeared on Bartlesville Examiner-Enterprise: TupaTalk column