A Tale Of Three Cookies
It’s not every day that a little boy living in a small town in Kansas gets a chance to visit “The Most Magical Place On Earth”. In fact, I suspect most never do. And that likely would’ve been the case with our 6 year-old grandson, Jake, as well had Papa Don (that would be me!) not received an invitation from the FDLA to talk to a room full of lawyers about the burgeoning mental health crisis confronting our profession at its 25th Annual Florida Liability Claims Conference. But, I did - and with it came word that the host hotel, Disney’s Boardwalk Resort, was graciously offering conference attendees (and their guests) discounted rates on a block of rooms that they were free to enjoy through the weekend that followed. Realizing the hotel was only a stone’s throw from Epcot and a short scenic walk to Hollywood Studios, I immediately hatched a plan to turn the event into a “once in a lifetime” family vacation that, when all was said and done, would include our daughter and her husband, our son and daughter-in-law, and, of course, Jake. Less than an hour and few phone calls and keystrokes later the tentative plans were in place for what I hoped would be a trip none of us would ever forget.
In retrospect, I probably should’ve paused to consider at least some of the practical ramifications of that admittedly impulsive decision before I made it: the likelihood, for example, that, in mid-June, the heat index in Central Florida would be hovering in the triple digits; the inevitability that mid-afternoon summer thunderstorms would wash out one or more of the days; my ever-increasing aversion to large crowds and long lines; the Ph.D. in Computer Science I don’t have that apparently now is required to not only plan a trip to Disney, but successfully navigate the parks’ rides, shows, and restaurants once you actually get there; the need to reserve places to eat months, rather than weeks in advance and the virtual impossibility of doing it for groups of seven; the eleventh hour realization that piling all of us into one, let alone two hotel rooms for 4 days would not be anyone’s idea of vacation; and the gag-reflux-inducing price tag attached to it all. But, that’s just not who I am. I’m a big picture guy. I see the dream first and worry about the logistics later. And I’m glad I am, because, in this case, thanks to the hard work of many, the dream I envisioned came as close to coming true as any with so many moving pieces ever could.
I’m sure if you polled the group on their “most memorable moment” each of us would give a different response. Some would say it was just the chance to get away from adulting for a few days, spend some quality time with family, and remember what it was like to be a child. For others, it was the reuniting - after a long absence - the shared laughter, the spontaneous hugs, and the healing they engender. Still others (you know who you are Emma!) will remember the food and, likely more than one, the simplicity of quiet time spent soaking tired feet in the pool at the end of a long day. For Jake, it was visiting China and Japan at EPCOT and whatever ride he just got off (Space Mountain, Splash Mountain, Star Tours, Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Guardians of the Galaxy, etc.). I loved it all. But, the moment that touched me most profoundly came, as mine often do, in the most unlikely of places, at the most unexpected of times, and in the most ordinary of packages: Three of the biggest, most beautiful chocolate chip cookies you have ever seen delivered to Jake at the end of an otherwise wholly unremarkable first night dinner at the House of Blues in Disney Springs.
I don’t often use the word “beautiful” to describe cookies (okay, I may have once or twice!?!), but Jake does and, in his Life Dictionary, these would be the picture you would find next to that word. They also happen to be his favorite, which is why what happened next caught my heart’s full attention. Without hesitation or saying a word, he handed Nana and Papa Don two of the three cookies! At the park the following day, I pulled Jake aside and told him I had a secret to tell him. “It’s not every day that a 6 year-old gives away 2 of their 3 chocolate chip cookies,” I began – a smile breaking across my face. “I want you to know that I noticed your kindness and that I was very touched by it.” “But, I’m also a little curious as to why you would do that,” I continued. “Because,” he matter-of-factly replied, as if stating the obvious, “it’s not every day I get invited to go to Disneyworld and I wanted to thank you and Nana by giving you something that was special to me in return.” And, with that, he and his Giver's Heart were off, hurrying to catch up with mom and dad en route to the next adventure, to make the next indelible memory.
As he disappeared into the crowd, I couldn’t help but wonder how much more "magical" this place we call Earth would be if we could all be a little more like Jake - if, in gratitude for all we’ve been given and without needing to be prompted, we more freely, liberally, and joyfully gave each other the adult-equivalent of our own "chocolate chip cookies" (our time, our touch, our treasure, our compassion, our patience, our presence, our empathy, our understanding, etc.) and, now and again, threw in a tall cold glass of milk (a hug) for good measure! Thank you, Jake, for being my North Star.
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