Trying to make a difference in three days
A few months ago, representatives from Project Sunshine approached me and asked me if they could use Kingston Ranch — my home in Sandy Valley — as a weekend camp. Project Sunshine is a charitable organization that organizes camping excursions for underprivileged children or those with life-threatening diseases. In this case, they were planning a three-day weekend for the children from Child Haven — a few days of happiness for children who have little reason to be happy.
My ranch was specifically designed with kids in mind, including the biggest kid of all — me. So I didn’t hesitate in saying, “Yes.” But I had little idea what I was getting into.
I was impressed by Project Sunshine’s organization. With the kids scheduled to arrive on Friday morning, the counselors and volunteers spent days bringing out equipment, setting up an archery range and a rock climbing wall, and delivering porta-potties and ice chests.
When the children arrived on day one, they looked like other kids. They varied in ages, looks, color, size and temperament.
But what I noticed on that first day was their reluctance. Unlike other kids, many did not jump at the opportunity to shoot a bow and arrow or swim in the lake. They appeared to be fearful and seemed to be suspicious of possible hidden agendas. Some of the kids were actually trembling when they were given the opportunity to approach and pet a horse. Several remarked, “I have never touched a horse before.”
There seemed to be a distinct lack of trust on the part of many of the kids. While swimming in the lake on that first day, I grabbed one 7-year-old girl by the foot. She pulled away and said, “I don’t like to be touched.” But eventually she and the other kids loosened up, and when they left in the afternoon, we all shouted, “See you tomorrow!”
On day two, the kids were excited when they arrived. With smiling faces, they leaped at the opportunity to engage in the now-familiar activities. There was exuberant interaction between the adults and children. The little girl who did not want to be touched was now shooting me with a water gun in an attempt to entice me to chase her through the water and grab her. When I threw her up into the air, all she could repeat after each throw was, “Again, again!”
Then the other kids wanted to be thrown into the air, too. Some were a little heavy (more thanks to neglectful parents). Finally I had to leave the lake from sheer exhaustion.
Over and over, I heard kids talk about their parents. “My mom said she is going to buy me a horse.” “My dad said I get to live with him in Phoenix.” How should one react to such high expectations — which are probably based on empty promises?
All in all, day two was a grand adventure. When the kids left, the little girl who hadn’t wanted me to touch her gave me a hug and a kiss. As the kids departed, we all shouted, “See you tomorrow!”
By now, we had really formed an emotional attachment. A number of tears were shed, and I have to admit that I was in that group. Consoling one another, we talked about the experience. Veterans of Project Sunshine understood what I, a rookie, was going through: a wave of emotions that were difficult to control.
I found that many had joined Project Sunshine because of personal tragedies. One man had lost a child to AIDS because of a transfusion before there was any HIV screening.
Another had lost a niece to cancer. Others volunteered simply out of their love for children.
When the kids arrived on day three, we greeted one another like old friends. By now, we knew all of their names and they knew ours. Once again, they leaped into their activities, but a sadness seemed to pervade everything — because we all knew this was our last day. When the kids climbed aboard their buses on Sunday afternoon, we were all fighting back tears. We told the children we loved them, but the undeniable reality was that we would probably never see them again.
In other words, the kids were once again being abandoned by adults who they loved.
Knowing this broke our hearts. We wanted to adopt all of them. And we wanted to find their parents and ask, “What is the matter with you?” But all we could really do was say, “Good bye.”
We wished we had a way to bring joy and love into these kids’ lives every day, but there is no way for us to do that. So, in the end, we had no choice but to be content with three days. Maybe those three days will make a difference. Maybe the kids will know love, trust, hope and joy. However slim those chances are, it was all worth it — a hundred times over.
Al Marquis is a Las Vegas attorney. Project Sunshine, always in need of volunteers, can be reached at 434-3699 or www.projectsunshineofnv.com.