Light-Sabres on the Beach

Several years ago, when I was a young father, I was honored to be invited to join a group of high school choir members as they traveled to the East coast for a choir competition. It was an all-girls choir. I got to be the drummer.

In lieu of compensation for my vast musical talent, they instead paid the expenses for my family to travel with me. We had an infant son, who was born the previous fall 11 weeks premature. After an 8-week stay in the hospital, doctor's orders kept us couped up in the house all Winter, so a chance to get some fresh ocean air as our first venture out with our new son was appealing. So my wife and I, along with my barely 3-year old son and our new baby, packed up and drove to the beach so I could play drums with a bunch of high school kids.

We had a great time. We had a room with a balcony facing the ocean, we got to spend time on the beach, eat at some cool restaurants, and spend a lot of time with teenagers. The energy that a group of teens can project is infectious. When they're having a good time, in makes everybody around them feel better. We just felt better being there. And all the girls in the choir oohed and ahhed over my two young boys. You know what they say... a baby is a chick-magnet. My wife and I enjoyed watching our young sons being fawned over by a group of high school girls.

But something else magical happened on that trip. And it didn't involve the girls.

A group of Senior boys from the school -- but who weren't in that choir -- decided to travel out to the coast to support the group anyway. I believe they traveled on their own dime, but I'm not really sure. They got a room in the hotel with the rest of us. I had developed friendships with them all. I had watched some grow up. I'm still friends with some of them today. So I was looking forward to hanging with the guys a little bit on the trip.

I did. Some. One evening, I hung out in their room, and hung way past my welcome. They thought I didn't know, but I did, which is why I hung around so long. They were hoping the old guy -- me -- would split so they could get to the party, which is to say, they wanted to drink the alcohol they had procurred. They didn't want me to know, what with them being underage and all, but I knew they had it, which is why I delayed the fun by hanging around so long. But they didn't know I knew.

For some reason, one of those young men had befriended my 3-year old son. The young man dated a girl who was a family friend, so we spent some more time with them than we might otherwise spend with high school kids, and they took a liking to my kids, and my kids to them. They came to their birthday parties, and our get-togethers, and they were our friends. And my 3-year old really liked the young man because the young man played with him, and treated him like the friend he was.

And they shared a fondness for Star Wars.

The young man had promised my son that sometime on this trip, he would play light-sabres with him. And my son was really looking forward to it. So, one evening, as the sun was setting, the young man took my son out to the beach and played light-sabres with him. You know... the cool ones. The ones that light up and even make the swooshing noise when you swing them, and the light-sabre "crack" when they clash.

This young man, who was digging hanging with his buddies, and certainly digging being with a whole choir of young, good-looking high school girls, played light-sabres on the beach with my 3-year old son. And they played, and my son laughed. And the young man laughed.

So often -- all too often, maybe -- we walk through life wondering if we ever make a difference. We long to affect others in a positive way, to impact somebody's life. Sometimes, people die never knowing if they ever did.

Tonight, I asked my now 17-year old son if he remembered playing on the beach that night. Not really, he says. But then, how many of us remember what we did when we were three? Says he has vague memories of it, but certainly remembers us talking about it as he's grown up. Seems as though each time we see the young man, we all recall the memory and share a laugh.

And there's the magic. That throughout all these years, the only thing we all talk about when we think back on that trip is the young man playing on the beach with our son. And we all laugh.

Tonight, the young man is hurting. He is a father now, and he and his young son have suffered a tragedy I can't fathom. And I wish I could help, but I can't. Tonight, he told me that he always looked up to me as a guy and a dad. That's touching, because he has always had a special place in my heart, and I suppose it's time I said thanks.

Because, all those years ago, when he thought he was just out being a goofy high school kid, he made a difference in my kid's life. I don't know whether he was Darth Vader, or Luke, but he made my son laugh, and my family laugh, and made me hope even more to be a good dad. And that means a lot.

Thanks Jed.