Two plus weeks passed before a phone call from Alisa arrived.

The entire immediate family consisting of her brother, Junior, herself, along with her mother and dad Miguel Sr., planned on attending the next meeting.

She kept the call brief. They were anxious to fit a time in for all. An early morning time worked for all parties. I mentally prepared to meet this whole family, most especially Miguel Sr., the father.

At the first session we met the son and daughter who shared their collective helplessness. Their dad had received a message about a friend who had passed away. The dad’s response was dramatic yet wordless. The dad’s daily post retirement routine was halted abruptly. He sat stoically as described in his chair.

The second session included both adult siblings and their mom, Mona. She provided further in-depth analysis of a rare and reportedly unique experience with her generous and favorable years of marriage. All agreed that Miguel Sr. was a soft-spoken, loving and humble man.

His routine had been disrupted. Walks, as well as visits with friends and family were halted. A common theme described Miguel, Sr., as a problem solver in his own initial manner. He didn’t lecture; moreover, he was quiet whether it referred to his engagement with Junior’s baseball friend’s hitting problem or facing Junior’s school and grade issues. Without fanfare, Miguel Sr. shone a style with a bright light.

The four arrived and each shook my hand and we proceeded with the session.

Welcome and a special hello to you, Miguel. I’m pleased to meet you. As you may know, your family has been here twice to express their concern for you. You had a friend pass away I understand. My deepest condolences to you, sir.

Miguel sat straight back in his chair. His wife and two adult children gazed at him. A couple minutes passed. How did your family persuade you to come?

I’m glad you’re here.

“My family and I are close. This has been a difficult time for me. The passing of my friend brought back memories that I needed and still need to think about. I’m here with you and my family because they wanted me to tell my story.”

I’d love to hear your story, sir. I believe your family also wants to hear it. Miguel Sr. takes a deep breath and acknowledges each.

“Over the years, I’ve told you only a smattering of stories from my childhood. As you do know, I was the youngest of five children. We all lived in a poor neighborhood. Everyone was good to me; my older two sisters and older two brothers, but they got busy with schoolwork and sports. Everyone played on a team. I was four years younger than my brother, the fourth sibling. Mom and dad both worked several jobs to support our family. We also learned about hard work and close family ties. I started school when I was four years old. The bus picked me up and I rode with the other kids to grade school. We carried a pack with school supplies like pencils and paper. Our mom made our lunches. We never bought at school. As time went on, I was in their grade and Migo, my brother, was in middle school in a different building. The other sibs were in middle or high-school. I saw them after school. We’d go play at the park. One of my parents was usually working so the other made dinner and cleaned up when we were at the park.

Miguel takes a minute and sips some water.

“One day an older boy who was a sixth grader and a big kid came over to my table and took my lunch bag. He wanted to see what was in it. Most kids ate school lunches. I was small for my age and he scared me. He probably could tell real easily. He dropped my pack on the floor spilling the contents. A teacher came by and saw what happened and made the boy, Jose, apologize. He did, though it didn’t sound honest. Every so often, maybe every 7-10 days, he’s repeat his behavior. He got sneakier though and he’d make sure no adults saw him. I would shake and get more scared. Sometimes he’d take my lunch and leave me just some of it. I was too frightened to complain. One time he whispered that he’d beat me up if I told on him. I sat alone at a table and no one either saw what was happening or were too scared themselves to say anything. I came home each day with my empty lunch pack and hungry when it got taken from me. I never ratted on him to my parents. It was like it wasn’t happening.”

Miguel takes a deep breath.

“We had play time for a half hour during school. Occasionally the boy would walk close to me and make sure I heard him warn me about telling on him. One day when I was outside I saw a really big kid; way bigger than me. He stayed to himself. Sometimes, mean kids would make fun of him. I think he was a slow learner. He always stayed apart from others as I said. One day in the lunch room, the sixth grade boy started to grab my pack. Suddenly, something made him let it go and some of the contents spilled out. He had fire in his eyes. Who dare defy him? When I looked up to see what happened, the other big boy was staring him down. He did not say anything but held his wrist firmly. The bully walked away and sputtered some bad words. The big boy quietly sat down with me after picking up my lunch. He took his own pack, took out his own food, and set it down before me. We were instant friends. We hung out at lunch and at recess. His name was Hector. I later told my parents. My brother dubbed the boy ‘Hector the Protector.’ He was like another older brother who had my best interest in mind. We saw each other at school and no one messed with me. He was my instant new friend who taught me about love and friendship. I grieve for his passing. He taught me humility.”

Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.

Marshall Greenstein holds a master’s degree in marriage and family counseling and is a licensed marriage and family counselor and a licensed mental health counselor in New York state. He has regular office hours at 415 E. Sixth St., Jamestown, and can be reached at 484-7756. For more information or to suggest topics, email editorial@post-journal.com.