"Gimme Five" -- More Boomer Chronicles
Boomer Chronicles: Gimme Five! (Lessons of life from an eight year old!)
By John P. Creveling
Living in the City of Brotherly Love, home base of the Quakers’ Society of Friends and the so-called Cradle of Liberty, I’ve learned, first-hand, lots about early American history--from raw, mundane details of Colonial life to broad lessons applicable to modern living.
Take Benjamin Franklin, for instance. Daily, many of the thousands of tourists who travel to Philadelphia from around the world to see Independence Hall, the Liberty Bell, and Betsy Ross’s House, come also to visit Ben Franklin’s grave and the site of his commodious privy. Ben’s house was demolished in 1812, yet hordes still come to see where it stood, and where (regardless of chamber pots) he must have gone outside to shiver on many a cold winter night.
One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned walking the narrow streets of old Philadelphia, however, comes from even closer to home, from what might also be called a “cradle of liberty”--my neighbor and friend George, who recently celebrated his eighth birthday. In many ways George is a typical eight-year-old – mischievous, in a playful manner, with all kinds of energy, so much in fact that his parents hardly need to go to the nearby gym, having their own treadmill just keeping up with George.
When I walk home from work and if George isn’t preoccupied playing with his friends, I can anticipate he’ll greet me with an enthusiastic, warm-hearted “Hey John, Gimme Five!” Sometimes when I’m tired I’ll pretend I’m busy looking at the birds or inspecting the TV cables on the utility poles in hopes that George won’t notice me. But this ploy doesn’t work very well with George. He still spots me, runs over, and presses enthusiastically for our vigorous slapping of five–high and low. Indeed, I suspect he’s caught on to my scheme of surveying the utility lines, so I now usually make it a point to seek him out and prompt him myself for our warm exchange of fives. We are, after all, buddies.
Moreover, George has helped me apply this “Gimme Five” thing to a new level. In spite of how fast his world may be moving, in spite of all the glorious distractions in an eight-year-old’s street life among his young companions, he takes the time to deliver his free, heartfelt, and infectious greeting. When, occasionally, he doesn't, I do.
Now, imagine the potential of these seemingly trivial “Gimme Five" encounters. Imagine if the phenomenon were to spread exponentially, becoming a kind of craze shared by the old and the young, wherever they meet. Gimme Fivers could impact the world the way the love and peace movement sometimes did in the 60's and 70's, bringing innumerable diverse people together spiritually as well as physically. Even better, we wouldn’t have to worry nearly as much about the things that separate and alienate us–things like suspicion, contempt, or hatred of those different from us. Like George and me breaking down artificial and sometimes poisonous barriers between old and young, all sorts of Gimme Fivers could help reshape our social interactions, raising and slapping hands in goodwill rather than in hatred and violence.
We could even have a national "Gimme Five" campaign! At least once a year everyone could partake. We could get all the politicians in one huge arena to show us how to do it. Hey, “Gimme Five!” – President Bush, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, Senators Clinton, Obama, and McCain. Okay, that might be a little overly optimistic. So let's start with you and me. Now that's realistic! Political campaign buttons could become obsolete – we could wear “Gimme Five Ambassador” on our lapel, representing our city and country.
Sometimes I dream of a world in which the Gimme Five principle would naturally dominate, where unified communities were suffused with a deep sense of shared civic responsibility. In such a connected world, George’s lovable Gimme Five response to his grown-up neighbors as well as to his eight-year-old playmates would be so prevalent that hardly anyone would think it remarkable. Reaching out and really touching someone would be a daily experience–the norm rather than the rare exception. The common aim in such a pressing-the-flesh world would be making concrete connections that changed lives right in our communities. Palpably. One person at a time.