
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: MONDAY, April 1, 1991                   TAG: 9104010167
SECTION: EDITORIAL                    PAGE: A9   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

AWESOME RESPONSIBILITY

NORTH FORK is a bright, fast mountain stream, shallow and filled with solid, smooth-edged stones. It winds around the base of Caldwell Mountain, and though it's only a short drive from Fincastle, it's in the densest of woods, seemingly a million miles from the rest of the world. It's the perfect place to take little boys when they need to throw a few rocks.

Late last spring, on a morning when Grandpapa and I were sharing my sister's three oldest children, we went up to North Fork to throw rocks. It was still mighty chilly down in that mountain draw, especially next to the creek's bed.

But the boys were gleeful anyway, hauling rocks and sticks into the water to keep from shivering. Sometimes they looked where they were throwing, sometimes they didn't. Grandpapa stayed next to the van and held the baby to keep her warm. I slid down the creek bank with the boys to try to keep them from hitting each other with poorly aimed rocks.

I saw the carcass before they did, and with that sight I seemed also to see the whole awesome responsibility that an adult immediately shoulders when she takes on the care of children. I'd thought this outing would be merely fun, an active distraction for two lively boys who'd rather have been with their mother. Suddenly, it was instead - and all this was up to me - an exercise in restraint, honesty and protection. My reaction to the carcass would instruct these boys; I could decide what I'd teach.

All this flashed through my mind in the seconds it took me to see the carcass and move carefully toward it. For, at first, I could tell only that it was something dead and that much of its skin had been stripped away. I couldn't tell what it was. Suppose it was a person?

I moved as casually as possible, but of course my older nephew saw me and followed. "What's that?" he asked - at the very instant I could tell that it was, or had been, a calf.

"You can tell by the teeth," I explained. "But don't touch it. Maybe it was sick before it died."

"Yuk," my nephew said. Then he returned to throwing rocks.

This was the reaction I'd hoped for: a clear, but unfrightened and unfrightening look at what was there, natural curiosity with a calm return to life as it's usually lived. "Watch out for your brother," I said.

Later, the carcass came up several times in conversation. Those bared and bloodied teeth made an impression. But there weren't any nightmares or outrageous worries about death and decay, and I should imagine the carcass is long forgotten by now.

I'm seldom with children, but every time I am, the responsibilities of instruction nearly overwhelm me. Every moment of every day with children is a moment of instruction. And seldom are the instructive moments so clear-cut as mine beside North Fork; seldom does one have time to decide, "What will I teach them here?" and then time to act on the decision.

All the more reason to think ahead, to pay attention to your actions. Little is lost on a child, yours or anyone else's. Whatever you do, whatever you say, a child is following your lead. You may not see those young eyes watching, but they are.

\ AUTHOR NOTE: Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times & World-News columnist.

by CNB