Certainly we never wanted to fall, but when it happened, we did wear our Band-Aids like badges of honor. And the opportunities were plentiful. Bikes, gravel roads, monkey bars, all guaranteed that someone in a nearby Washington Elementary desk would be honored. 

From time to time, the scraped knee or elbow was replaced by the broken bone, which meant the wearing of a plaster cast. I took my place on this coveted throne the day after our Valentine’s day party at Noonan’s Park Ice rink. At the end of the string of students “Cracking the whip”, I was thrown hard against the frozen pond, breaking my left arm. As the doctor wrapped the warm plaster around my limb, he said I was so brave. I wasn’t brave, I was excited — excited to enter the fifth grade team room to the guaranteed oooohs and aaaahs of the other students. I handed out my Sharpie markers the next morning and all the class lined up to sign my cast. It was confirmation, almost a pledge really, that we were in this battle together. 

I can’t tell you when it started, when honor was replaced by embarrassment. When did it become shameful to have a misstep, a fall? It seems today, when tripping over a crack, the first thing that occurs is the look around. Did anybody see? Not like when we were young — oh, we did the look around then too, but not for the same reason. Then it was, “Did you see what I made it through?” “Look, look what I survived!”

Maybe it’s impossible to take that all back, but maybe we can give it sometimes, give the recognition to each other. Really see people – what they go through. And take the time to acknowledge it. Offer up the most deserved ooohs and aaahs. Pledging, once again, that we are all in this together.