Does Your Face Light Up?
My great-grandfather was Sam. Yep, that’s what we called him. Sam. He had dark brown skin and an easy smile featuring two gold front teeth with stars. Both of his legs were amputated below the knee and he moved through the world in his wheelchair with considerable ease. Sam had a specially outfitted, wood-paneled station wagon with hand controls that enabled him to drive. He lived at the bottom of a set of stairs; however, he expected and received the kindness of passersby to help him get to and from his residence.
As a little girl, I spent lots of time with Sam and my great-grandmother Mama Mazel. Sam loved King syrup and peppermint patties. He liked to sit on the porch and have loud conversations with the neighbors; he enjoyed receiving calls from his sister, whom he called Sister (what was her name, really?). He got a kick out of making us laugh hysterically by making our fingers crack. And most importantly, Sam was absolutely crazy about my sister, my mother, and me.
Every so often, on a sleepy Saturday morning, there would be a knock at the front door. And because we were girls in the hood, we’d open the 3rd story window of our row house, poke our heads out the window (not sanctioned by my mother), and look to see who knocked. Standing on the front steps would be some stranger, often recruited with a “Hey Boss-Man, knock on that door right there”. As we looked on from our 3rd story window, “Boss-Man” would wordlessly point at the station wagon double-parked in street, descend our front steps, and continue on his way.
In the station wagon, waiting for us – Sam! We’d loudly run down from our third floor rooms and open the front door to run out to his car. When we had friends over, they too would join the chorus of “Sam!” and rush outside. We’d stand by the car and talk to him through the passenger side window for a short while, everyone often receiving a dollar to spend at the corner store up the street.
Sam was happy to see us.
How’d I know? Simple. His face lit up.
Toni Morrison said “it’s interesting to see when a kid walks in a room, your child or anybody else’s child, does your face light up? That’s what they’re looking for… let our faces speak to our children what’s in our heart, that we’re glad to see them…”
Sam’s face spoke what was in his heart. Simply put, he was glad to see us, his great-grandchildren (and even our friends). And it wasn’t about what we did or didn’t do; we were valued just as we were. We were seen.
I was blessed to have experienced that as a child many times over, from Sam and countless others. I was surrounded by a village that was glad I was a part of it.
But it doesn’t have to end there…
Moving through the world as adults we have the same opportunity – to let our faces speak what’s in our heart. I am grateful to have a circle that greets me with smiles and enthusiasm. I know they are glad to see me. I hope I convey the same. I don’t take it for granted; I’m sure there are many – children and adults alike – who are rarely on the receiving end of a face lighting up when they enter a room. It matters.
As this season of separation begins to lift, I challenge you to openly display the joy you’ll feel when seeing your friends, loved ones, and colleagues face-to-face after months apart. And to try to keep it up once those initial reunions take place. I’ll commit to doing the same.
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