How would YOU find a toddler in a crowd?
Have you ever needed to shout in public?
You know, stand up and ask for attention from a group of total strangers?
People stop and stare, then shrug and go on their way.
But some listen and act.
Whenever I’ve shouted, relief has been the result.
The first time happened many years ago when this Navy wife rode a car, train, airplane and bus to travel from New England to jolly old England in quest of her submariner husband.
I carried a one year old, a three year old, amoxicillin that had to be kept cold, an enormous suitcase stuffed with clothing and all the diapers we’d need.
The newly walking baby rode in a backpack, but the three year-old was on the loose, so I labeled him with name, flight number and any other pertinent piece of information. I feared him being lost or stolen in a foreign country.
My husband had sailed into Scotland on a submarine and thence to Heathrow airport.
I’m so thankful he met us.
When we finally arrived at the hotel, he listened to my travel adventures (I’ll spare you) and commented, “you know, I’ve never been left with just the two boys before. I don’t know how you do it.”
I put on the stiff upper lip we Navy wives have favored for so many years and bit back the logical responses: “Do I have a choice?” and “Shall I leave for a couple hours?”
I was glad to see him!
We had a crazed week-long trip around southern England where, in his words, “every day became a primitive hunt for food and lodging for my family.”
We’re pretty sure we got the right baby back
When it came time to fly home, I should have remembered his earlier remark.
I left him in a very crowded noisy area with the two boys and went to arrange the boarding passes.
After I obtained the documents and shoved my way back, I found my husband chatting with the three year-old.
“Where’s the baby?”
“Didn’t you take him with you?”
Many will understand the engulfing horror as I turned, eyes blinded with tears, to scan a vast milling crowd. The baby spoke no language, not even English.
He was not labeled. He wasn’t tall and he didn’t walk well at 13 months.
All I could see was a wall of strangers.
What would you do?
I shouted. “Does anybody see my baby?”
I’m sure that entire boarding area did not go silent, but it hushed enough that I heard a friendly voice from far away call, “there’s a little tyke over here.”
British Airways beat me to the toddler, slapped a label on him and thrust him back into my arms.
Both of us were sobbing.
With relief.
In the years since then, I’ve appealed to mobs with a shout numerous times: for jumper cables, same lost child, missing keys and, today, information about where to find a sari.
I shouted and someone loaned me a sari!
People have always responded, cheerfully and with great advice.
What a relief.
And my husband?
He’s great with kids and has had plenty of time with just him and them.
I made sure of that.
Tweetables
What a relief! Shouting in public. Click to Tweet
“Does anybody see my baby?” and other reasons to shout in public. Click to Tweet
Thank you for responding to a public shout. Click to Tweet
Pearson Airport, Toronto. On my way to ACFW 2013. I shouted at a truly lazy person completely unconcerned that HUNDREDS of people were going to miss their flights because the “new improved” luggage system wasn’t improving on anything.
200+ people went deathly silent.
Things sped up.
Odd, eh?
An angry redhead is a formidable force.
I shouted the Summer of 2010. I was walking down the alley behind my house with my precious love of my life- Amos 10 pounds of Puppy Love. He was not on a leash and had strayed a little way from me. A car turned down the alley and the kid driving tried to see how fast he could go. Amos ran in front of the car and all I could see was the “love of my life” being hit by a car ( this was after 3 years of personal hell). I shouted, the car stopped, I reached into the car, grabbed the kid by the collar, and I don’t know what all I said, but somehow when it was all over, the kid was scared, my dog was safe, and I felt an odd sense of peace. Whatever burden I had been hauling around for the past 3 years was somehow lighter. As I write this, a freshly bathed Amos is snuggled beside me. The new husband understands his place in my life. One day he and my daughter can tell their therapists how much I loved that dog. Sometimes a good shout does a body good.