All 50 states are now on Team Carter

     

You know what happens when the proverbial pebble is tossed into a pond.  When that tiny rock hits the water—even with the smallest splash—the concentric circles go on and on.  That’s how I can best explain what happened last year after a single e-mail, and the digital ripples are still making waves.

     It all started with an e-mail from Pete Hires, a lifelong friend, who now lives in Rhode Island.  Pete’s dad, Aubrey, called my dad “Neighbor,” because we lived next door on Younce Street.  Sixty years later, Aubrey and Big Dink are gone.  Now, Pete and I refer to each other as “Neighbor.”  Neighbor sent an electronic note to classmates Joe and Judy Phelps and me telling about his first-grade, special-needs grandson who is fascinated by fire fighters.  Pete wondered whether we could round up a few fire department patches.

     Joe and Judy were the first responders.  They mailed Jesup and Fort Stewart patches to Carter Sanborn in Massachusetts.  In an Oct. 27, 2014, column, I asked you to join Team Carter.  You started sending things for Carter.  The Georgia Press Association rallied its member newspapers to join our little buddy’s team.  After the National Newspaper Association ran a front-page article about Team Carter, the drive went nationwide.

     Monday, I got a report from Carter’s grandfather.  So far, Neighbor says Carter has received 355 patches, a dozen fire department badges, four helmets and a variety of T-shirts, uniform shirts and caps.  Eight foreign countries and three military bases have sent fire patches. In the storage room behind my office, I have a stockpile of patches yet to be sent to Carter. I hope to stretch out his excitement as long as possible. 

     Neighbor reports that Carter knows the postal delivery schedule, and he’s usually waiting by the mailbox.  In the beginning, the postman asked, “Who’s sending you all this mail?”  Carter chirped, “Mr. Ding the Newspaper King.”  That’s funny, but it’s not about me.  It’s about a boy whose spirits and academic performance are lifted, and he’s become a celebrity in his class.  The teacher has turned Carter’s collection into a daily learning opportunity, as he shows a new patch and tells where places—such as Michigan’s River Rouge Fire Department—are located.

     Many people have become a part of this delightful quest, and I thank you. One team member stands out as the Most Valuable Player on Team Carter.  Augusta’s Cookie Serotta is a grandmother of three: Eva, Sydney and Eliott. If you could have only five friends, you’d want Cookie and her husband, Abram, to be two on that treasured list.  There is no limit to their selflessness.  Like the Energizer Bunny, this couple just keeps on going and going and going and giving and giving and giving.

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.