Is it possible that a two-year old, named Sarah, holds a key to saving our planet?
We have a world in a pickle.
Climate change. Wars. Pollution. Corrupt leaders. Famine. Pestilence. Greedy corporations. Grannies with far too many cats. Melting ice caps. Cell phones. Social media gone amok.
But somewhere among our 7.3 billion people there may be tiny humans able to lead us into the light.
Meet Sarah. Her mother was born in Africa. Her father in California. Sarah is about a meter high. Her little family lives next door to us.
Years ago Jon Povill and I wrote a story for Star Trek, TNG–called The Child: a baby born light years aways developed into a genius in hours.
Sarah seems to mirror some of the accelerated qualities of The Child.
Months ago, Sarah begin to “talk.” I’d say something and she’d answer me in a language with a rhythm like English but her words made no sense. Apparently all babies go through this process as they learn languages.
A few days ago, Sarah’s mother, dropped her car key as she walked into the elevator. The key slipped into a crack and tumbled four stories down the elevator shaft to the basement.
Baby Sarah thought this was hilarious. The adults had been shafted. Sarah clapped and giggled as if to say “Do it, again, Mummy. It’s fun learning about gravity.”
The problem: Mummy had one key and the replacement in our high tech world was $800.
Except for Sarah who re-explained the entire debacle with baby glea glossolalia.
When Sarah’s Daddy arrived he was none too happy. Sarah grinned and watched. Finding a lost key seemed so much fun!
While Sarah’s Daddy held the elevator doors open I fished for the key with a magnet. We soon realized that the high-tech key had bounced under the elevator cage. Unreachable with a magnetic fishing line.
The elevator pros wanted $500 for a service call and issued dire warning regarding any attempt to crawl under it. We’d be crushed by a three-ton elevator cage. A dentist would be required to remove our teeth from our shoe leather.
The next morning I talked with my buddy, a contractor. He showed me how one could “game” the elevator, freeze it in place. He lowered himself into the “pit” below and snared the elusive key with its fop containing more computer power than was used in World War II.
No dentists were required to extract our teeth from our shoe leather.
I knocked softly on Sarah’s door. She opened it. Something her mother had told her never to do.
She looked up at me: “Jaron, do you have the key yet?”
I was dumbfounded. Sure, Sarah knew my name. Used it along with strange hand signs when she wanted candy. Now she’d hatched a complete question that indicated she knew what was going on.
She held up a tiny fist and opened tiny fingers. I dropped the key into her palm.
Her father, pulling on a robe, rubbing sleep from his eyes, appeared. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Sarah handed him the $800 key and then trundled off to find breakfast. She smelled of fresh vanilla, warm sunshine, and giggles.
Can two-year olds save our planet?
Perhaps the Sarahs of the world will do a better job than the wise adults who have gummed up our tiny blue planet.
Here’s hoping. Fingers crossed. HAPPY 2019!