The Search for Quanyae

I called my granddaughter Caitlyn a few weeks before Christmas to ask if she would like to go shopping for a one year old whose name was Quanyae. I had recently been to the mall and impulsively picked up an cardboard angel from the Salvation Army display. On the card were sizes of clothes and shoes as well as toys his family thought he might like. Our daughter Kimberly has done this type of shopping in the past and has recommended it for me as well. I left the display with instructions on how to return the purchased items and by what date.

Caitlyn's first response to my question was, "He doesn't sound American to me," to which I countered, "Well, he probably is an American. He could be that he is African-American or perhaps Asian-American." "O.K., I'll do it," she replied.

When I arrived to pick her up that Saturday morning, both she and her three year old brother were dressed for the shopping event. Caitlyn put her arms around her brother's shoulders, looked intently into his face, and said, "Charlie, we are going shopping for a less fortunate little boy."

"Why we want to do that?" was his only response, but he looked forward anyway to going to Target and getting a Coke and some popcorn. As I pushed Charlie around in the store, he insisted on holding the Angel card while Caitlyn carefully looked for the most she could get for our budgeted money. Like most children would want, the first stop was in the toy department where both Caitlyn and Charlie quickly agreed upon a Red Rider tricycle for Quanyae. Next was the clothes department where we chose a sweater, shirt, and vest combination plus an outdoor jacket. The final stop was back to the toy section to round out our purchase with a couple of small cuddly toys. "He can sleep with this one," Caitlyn said as she held up a small stuffed animal that sang some bedtime lullabies.

After the prerequisite purchases at the snack counter, the grandchildren were too full to go out to eat the promised lunch. I suppose it's too early to know whether this experience, or the one recently at St. Francis house, will have the desired effect on them. I just know that a similar experience was important for me as a child.

One Christmas when I was eight or nine, Mother announced we were not going to have our usual small Christmas (we got just socks and underwear usually anyway and perhaps a $1 box of chocoate-covered cherries, so I cannot say I sacrificed much to forgo it). Instead we would take her tips from the tithe jar, and we would buy Christmas for a needy family. I am sure she was also thinking about the Christmas when Second Baptist Church members brought by groceries and a few toys for Judy and me. I do remember my excitement at the doll house they brought me. I also remember the excitement of the several stair-step, tow-headed children in the little house as their mother opened the door to us on a cool Mississippi delta night.

How do we encourage altruism in our grandchildren, especially if they are privileged? I do not have the answers, but I suppose it is true that it is usually passed down from one generation to the next. Caityn's other set of grandparents serve on a variety of community and college boards and help others in that very positive way. Caitlyn was anxious to talk to me on the phone last week when I called. She said, "Mom B, in my freewriting today at school, I wrote that I was going to have a New Year's resolution to think about myself less and others more." I hope she will, and I hope when Quanyae is an adult he will also be in a position to think of others.