I watched a toddler cry while in her Daddy’s arms on a New
York City subway yesterday. The baby was maybe two years old. The parents were
young, but loving to the child and tolerant to her reaction to harsh subway
noises and the heat of a humid summer day.
I also watched the other passengers on the subway car. They
were of all races and nationalities, Black, Hispanic, Asian and White. The baby whimpered
and then periodically whaled and each of us smiled.
Each of us knowing the
parent’s frustration, but not wanting to participate in it or acknowledge it.
All of us passengers surrounding the toddler were of diverse
and disparate backgrounds. All of us, at one time or another, glanced at the
child with a loving look and even a little finger wave in hopes of distracting
the child. A big burley guy, a construction worker in yellow hard hat, seemed to be the most taken and tender with the child.
Even his smile didn’t work.
Watching this child and the people around her I was reminded of a great line from
Tagore, a Bengali poet. He said: “ Every child comes with a message from God
that he is not discouraged with humanity.”