Childhood Obsessions - Feeding Sugar to Children

Last summer I was lending a hand at the local food pantry, returning assistance I’ve borrowed in the past, and the director brought her grandson along one sunny day. A young kid around 10 or 11 was spending a few weeks of summer vacation at his grandparents in the rural midwest, his parents likely enjoying their own summer vacation half the country away. Too young to own a phone, he shuffled around the loading room periodically looking up at the clock and carefully calculating the minutes left until he could run outside. It was a small pantry servicing a town of just a few thousand which commonly experienced lulls during the weekly 2-hour distribution. You could see the kid’s boredom build, finding no reprieve in conversation with peers - all volunteers other than me being retired.

Every few minutes someone would slip out a thought, typically related to a family event or a local happening, to be met with “oh’s” and “mhmms”. My introverted self had come to enjoy this weekly communal silence, something that’s rarely found in our generation without the presence of screens. About an hour in, the kid asked grandma about getting his coins out before dinner, siphoning the rare question out of me I asked, “What kind of coins do you have?”. Little did I know this minor turn of the valve would unleash a torrent of information from the previously silent kid, eager to share and discuss his shiny interest with an inquisitive stranger. He would describe the differences in alloys, the key years, and minting locations. He gave a rundown on his entire collection with amazing detail and fullness, highlighting his favorites and the empty slots that he’s hoping to fill. At first this stirred a room of smiles, as the volunteers admired the child’s impressive performance; but after a few minutes of his engine refusing to downshift their admiration began turning to annoyance, with passive social cues only a veteran midwesterner would pick up. As I watched the kid burst with excitement I realized that he mirrored myself as a child - obsessing over a quirky interest containing a deep well of knowledge to endlessly pail, for me it was rocks and fossils.

The dismissive cues continued and became less passive until he took notice. His engine began to sputter, his eyes slowly drifting back to the ground with his tone. It broke my heart, I could feel the excitement deflate as he realized his interest did not carry enough merit with others. I began firing questions, “Where do you get your coins? Do you watch videos online? If you could find any coin, what would it be?”. With each question, I re-inflated some excitement until once again he was red-lining in 6th gear. The gazes of annoyance shifted to me, the others knew what I was doing but didn't attempt any effort to regain the normal silence.

The verbal onslaught never ceased, nor did my smile or questions. As we locked up the door and headed towards the parking lot his loquacity continued, but his direction turned to his grandma as we parted ways. She gave me a wave and smile that said thanks, for feeding him sugar.