You meet the nicest people at the fire station

     “You meet the nicest people on a Honda.” Remember that advertising slogan?

That was before Hondas had four wheels in America.  The commercials always featured happy people scooting around on their motor bikes.

     I’ve never owned a Honda with two or four wheels, but I have discovered some mighty nice people where they park those big red fire trucks.  There’s something about firemen that fascinates kids.  And I’ve never met a firefighter—man or woman—who wouldn’t take time to let a little one explore his or her fire hall and climb up into one of those shiny trucks.  When our younger son, Eric, was barely talking, he’d tell you, “I’m two fire engines old.”  

Thanks to a front-page article in the National Newspaper Association’s publication, Team Carter’s appeal for fire department patches has gone nationwide.  In the photo left, 6-year-old Carter Sanborn shows off the fire helmet and T-shirt sent to him by Pat Shearer, a retired Athens-Clarke County firefighter.  Looking on is Carter’s older brother, Christopher, one of Team Carter’s biggest boosters.

     That’s why I could relate to Carter Sanborn’s love of everything to do with firefighting.  In October, I introduced you to Carter, who lives in Ashburnham, Mass.  While he is growing up in New England, his roots are right here in Georgia.  His great-grandfather, Aubrey Hires, was Wayne County school superintendent in the 1950s.  His great-grandmother, Kathleen Hires, was my 12th-grade homeroom teacher.  And his grandfather, Pete Hires, and I have been buddies since 1952.

     So when Pete mentioned that his special-needs grandson, 6-year-old Carter, was collecting fire department patches, I decided to see whether you—our readers—could help.  We formed Team Carter, and the response has been overwhelming.  Of the 250-plus patches in Carter’s collection, I’ve contributed only a few.  You’ve done the rest.

Would you like to help make a 6-year-old smile?

     We lived next door for three or four years, but we’ve been “Neighbors” ever since.  The legacy started with Pete’s dad, Aubrey Hires, calling my dad Neighbor.  I can still hear Aubrey’s baritone voice wafting across our Younce Street yard.

     And I recall a cold Christmastime morning, when Aubrey, the county school superintendent, “Here, Neighbor, take your family to the funeral.”  My mother’s father had died in Baker County, 165 miles away. Our 1950 Dodge didn’t have a heater.  That was my first-remembered experience of a random act of kindness.  Our dads are gone, but Pete and I still call each other Neighbor. 

knocked on our back door.  Thrusting out keys to his 1952 Buick, he said,

     A couple of months ago, one of Neighbor’s e-mails mentioned his grandson’s fascination with fire department patches.  The special-needs 6-year-old is decorating his room with fire department memorabilia.  Patches are his favorite.  Neighbor, who now lives in Rhode Island, asked—if it wouldn’t be too much trouble—to collect a few patches for his grandson, Carter.

     I closed my eyes, and I could see Carter’s great-grandfather walking back to his house.  I could hear his wingtips crunch the frostbitten grass beneath his feet.  I could feel the warmth inside his blue Buick, as we made the round trip to Southwest Georgia. And now—62 years later—dozens of friends are helping light up Carter’s world, hundreds of miles away in Ashburnham, Mass.

     If someone wants to honor me, I don’t need another certificate or a plaque.  Either would be appreciated, but their destiny would probably be a storage-closet box.  The real ticket would be a random act of kindness directed toward our children, or better yet, our grandchildren.  I know Neighbor feels the same way.

That’s why I am anxious to pay it forward, never forgetting what Neighbor’s dad did for our family six decades ago.  Friends everywhere have joined Team Carter.  Caps, coloring kits, sweatshirts, shirts and patches have poured in.  One week, I spread out 64 individual pieces on our conference table.  So far, Carter’s collection has grown 100-fold.  But we can’t stop there.

     Every day, I write a note and include one of the patches sent by a friend or a stranger, eager to help.  Carter’s mom, Lauren Sanborn, is keeping a spreadsheet.  Almost 20 states are represented now—and there’s even a patch from Japan.  

     The Georgia Press Association has joined in the campaign, producing dozens of new items for Carter.  I’m hoping the National Newspaper Association will do the same.  Now, I’m thinking Carter deserves at least one patch from all 50 states.  With your help, we can do it.

     Carter has become a celebrity in his first-grade class.  Neighbor says Carter gets to tell his classmates what patch came yesterday.  Then, they talk about where the town is located, as they mark the spot on a map.  Neighbor says that his grandson has become an expert on the U.S. Postal Service’s delivery schedule.  Carter knows when to be standing by the mailbox.