Last week, I saw something very moving.
As I made my way up the final hill of the trail that circles the Washington Duke Inn, I saw two men running toward me.
Right away, I knew they were the “real deal” as far as runners go. I might have been able to deduce this from the speed at which they flew down the hill, but the real give-away was those really, really short shorts.
You know the ones I’m talking about. Only real runners put those things on. But other than that, the two were only distinguishable from 100 yards away because one man wore red shorts and the other wore black.
But, as we made our way toward each other, I realized something seemed a little off about this pair. Black Shorts had a firm grip on his running partner, Red Shorts, and spat off directions between breaths.
“Downhill coming up!”
“Trail curves a bit to the left.”
“Some uneven turf here.”
We were almost face to face when I realized that Red Shorts was blind and Black Shorts was guiding him—at breakneck speed, mind you—around the trail.
Totally astounded by what I had just seen, I stopped running and decided to walk up that hill. And while I walked, I pondered.
Who impressed me more? The blind man in the red shorts or the seeing man in the black shorts?
Why was I so taken aback by their athletic synergy. Because the blind man trusted another man to guide him on the run? Or because a seeing man willingly guided his sightless friend for an entire run’s worth of time? I’m still not sure.
But I am sure about this. Seeing the blind man made me realize something.
Readers, strangers, family, friends, I must confess. I have been selfish.
In the midst of an “oh-so-stressful” semester spent worrying only about myself—my future, my grades, my soccer, hell, even my column—I have forgotten how privileged I am and how lucky we (Dukies, Americans, the seeing, the healthy, the able) are.
I’ll take you back 49 years to a Joint Convention of the General Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts in 1961. Then president-elect John F. Kennedy delivered an address acknowledging the incredible responsibility he was about to assume in his new role. It was here that JFK said, “For of those to whom much is given, much is required.”
And he had a good point.
In my life I have wanted for nothing, save better grades, more expensive clothes and a new puppy after my old dog died. Seeing Black Shorts guide Red Shorts around the trail made me realize that there are so many simple and seemingly uncommon ways to devote my time and energy to others who may need that “guidance.”
Consider the countless opportunities to give back: tutoring, mentoring, Meals on Wheels, Humane Society, park cleanups, hospital visits. You could even do something more simple and non-committal. Help a sophomore pick his major, encourage a freshman to join an IM team or recommend a junior for an internship.
This column is in no way a call to arms . I know that plenty of Duke students are already involved in community outreach and civic engagement. But I also know that some of us—including me—don’t do enough, I’m just sharing something that I plan to work on as we find ourselves in the thick of the holiday season.
I am certainly someone of whom “much is required.” I plan make a conscious effort to reach out over the next couple of weeks. Do you?
Molly Lester is a Trinity senior. This is her last column of the semester.
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