A teenage girl writes to Choices magazine, asking for help with a problem, and other teens give their advice.

The Problem

Four Replies

When I was a little girl, I spent memorable holidays with my grandmother, who lived in a small village. She was a farmer with a stooped (弯曲的) back that made it seem like she was always leaning forward to examine something. Early in the morning, she would tie a cloth around her waist and set out to the farm. I would skip breathlessly alongside, trying to keep up. On our way, she would greet everyone we passed.

There was the standard greeting, “Did you wake up on the right foot this morning?” Then, the more personalized greetings. To Patriarch Kosi who sat under the mango tree, she would ask, “Are the grandchildren in good health?” To the Bean Stew Seller who was preparing to serve breakfast, she would inquire, “Are your boys well?”

Sometimes, the greetings were spoken soothingly (安慰地). When we walked past the widow, Dada Mawusi, many months after her husband’s death, Grandmother would say directly, “How is your grieving?” She didn’t like to beat around the bush. The greeting made more sense to her to acknowledge the woman’s suffering, and in doing so, empathize (理解) with her.

The people that Grandmother greeted would respond similarly. “I see you have your granddaughter with you today. How is her father?” or “I see you have woken up before the cock’s crow today. May it be a fruitful day at the farm.” As a young girl, I thought these greetings were unnecessarily time-consuming. What I now realize is that the greetings increased a sense of belonging. My grandmother taught me that there is always time to greet someone before getting down to business. You can always take a few extra seconds to say a greeting to a person. We enrich our society when we acknowledge the unique presence of one another.

As a young man, Al was a skilled artist, a potter. He had a wife and two fine sons. One night, his older son developed a severe stomachache. Thinking it was only some common intestinal (肠的) disorder, neither Al nor his wife took the condition very seriously. But the disease was actually acute appendicitis (阑尾炎), and the boy died suddenly that night.

Knowing the death could have been prevented if he had only realized the seriousness of the situation, Al’s emotional health declined under the enormous burden of his guilt. To make matters worse his wife left him a short time later, leaving him alone with his six-year-old younger son. The hurt and pain of the two situations were more than Al could handle, and he became an alcoholic.

As the alcoholism progressed, Al began to lose everything he possessed—his home, his land, his art objects, everything. Eventually Al died alone in a San Francisco motel room.

As time went by, I began to re-evaluate my earlier harsh judgment. You see, I knew Al’s now adult son, Ernie. He is one of the kindest, most caring, most loving men I have ever known. I watched Ernie with his children and saw the free flow of love between them. I knew that kindness and caring had to come from somewhere.

Ernie sat quietly and reflected for a few moments. Then he said, “From my earliest memories as a child until I left home at 18, Al came into my room every night, gave me a kiss and said, ‘I love you, son. ‘”