Freddy Francis

Today I found out that one of my campers, Fred Francis, passed away. He was in his eighties and had been coming to camp for longer than I've been alive. I don't think I've ever met a more adorable, funny, and all around wonderful old man. The stories are endless, and like all camp counselors I store up little treasures of memories I've had with each of my counselors because I never know when I won't see one of them again.
When you work with people with disabilities, you get to see some of the fragility of life, and yet, in that fragility are some of the most beautiful moments you may ever have the chance to experience. Moments that simply slide by because you can't really grasp the importance of them while you're living them. Its these moments that I've come to treasure in my heart as the times when I really lived. I can't explain it, except to say if you've ever had an experience like it, you'll know what I mean. I can't help but be touched by the people who have so shaped who I am today. Fred Francis was one of those people, though he may never have known what an impact he had on me. His life is one of many that has given me hope and joy (italian accent, glasses, singing opera, what more do you want?) and a dream that maybe some day I can give back what I have been so graciously given. So he sits now in my heart pocket, as Ellen Pew would say, to remind me of the reasons why I want to be a social worker.