This Too Shall Pass
Its single wood-framed door opening up onto Walden Street for over sixty years, the Concord Toy Shop closed this past summer. Known to many as America’s oldest specialty store, it was one of those places that proudly resisted the temptation of stocking its shelves with the latest trends, instead offering toys that brought a nostalgic feel to the shopping experience. Across an alley and two doors down, Woolworths 5 & 10 stood with its lunch counter offering a great grilled cheese and significantly more current toys. And yet, for decades the two co-existed just fine until Woolworths, ironically, went out of business first.
There is a special place in my heart for the Concord Toy Shop because for a few years during middle school, Mrs. Pratt, the owner, employed me. My responsibilities included showing up on time Saturday mornings, breaking down cardboard boxes in the basement, carting them off with Mrs. Pratt to the town dump, and then washing the store’s enormous plate glass window. Mrs. Pratt, a typical Yankee, did not talk much nor gush praise about my efficiency or burgeoning cleaning skills. However, I learned great lessons about the importance of feeling good about the work I was doing, and that praise, doled out in careful portions, had a more meaningful impact. I also grew to appreciate the value of quiet and the calming sounds of the dailiness of life like the bell that hung from the store’s door, the manual cash register’s drawer, and anticipation in a child’s voice.
In our two-dimensional Zoom world, these lessons and memories resonate with greater poignancy for me. I miss the sounds of the school waking up and the patterns of greeting one another. When I popped online to say hello to a couple of lower school classes last week and to watch a middle school debate, I was reminded that our students and teachers have found ways to make the best of this temporary situation. The chatter from the kindergarteners was animated, unscripted, and just as nourishing as if I had walked into their classroom. Our debators laid out their arguments with just as much spark and confidence as if they were standing alongside one another. Of course, neither situation was the same, and I would trade all of it to be in person together in a heartbeat. Still, there was joy, and I could feel the unfettered curiosity that drives our students to learn and to listen. When confronted with dismay or discouragement, my mother’s unfailing optimism and her words, this too shall pass, resonate. I too am an optimist, and I believe that we will come through this stronger because, through the despair and uncertainty, I see lifelong lessons that will serve us well and the resiliency of the human spirit that will sustain us.
Be well,
John
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There is a special place in my heart for the Concord Toy Shop because for a few years during middle school, Mrs. Pratt, the owner, employed me. My responsibilities included showing up on time Saturday mornings, breaking down cardboard boxes in the basement, carting them off with Mrs. Pratt to the town dump, and then washing the store’s enormous plate glass window. Mrs. Pratt, a typical Yankee, did not talk much nor gush praise about my efficiency or burgeoning cleaning skills. However, I learned great lessons about the importance of feeling good about the work I was doing, and that praise, doled out in careful portions, had a more meaningful impact. I also grew to appreciate the value of quiet and the calming sounds of the dailiness of life like the bell that hung from the store’s door, the manual cash register’s drawer, and anticipation in a child’s voice.
In our two-dimensional Zoom world, these lessons and memories resonate with greater poignancy for me. I miss the sounds of the school waking up and the patterns of greeting one another. When I popped online to say hello to a couple of lower school classes last week and to watch a middle school debate, I was reminded that our students and teachers have found ways to make the best of this temporary situation. The chatter from the kindergarteners was animated, unscripted, and just as nourishing as if I had walked into their classroom. Our debators laid out their arguments with just as much spark and confidence as if they were standing alongside one another. Of course, neither situation was the same, and I would trade all of it to be in person together in a heartbeat. Still, there was joy, and I could feel the unfettered curiosity that drives our students to learn and to listen. When confronted with dismay or discouragement, my mother’s unfailing optimism and her words, this too shall pass, resonate. I too am an optimist, and I believe that we will come through this stronger because, through the despair and uncertainty, I see lifelong lessons that will serve us well and the resiliency of the human spirit that will sustain us.
Be well,
John
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