The Golden Rule

From the Golden Rule

The Sparrows of Michigan Avenue

THE SPARROWS OF MICHIGAN AVENUE

By A. Koenig

     The freezing wind huffed and puffed as it rushed down Michigan Avenue, blowing frost into every nook and crevice, shaking the traffic lights and shuddering the plate glass windows. The wind even found its way into one narrow cranny where a row of sparrows huddled with their feathers ruffed to keep out the cold.

     "It's cold, it's cold," chittered one young sparrow. This was her first winter. Her cousins picked up her song and repeated it several times.

     "Oh cold, oh bitter, bitter cold."

     An older sparrow, in fact the oldest of the flock, peered out at the neon lit night. "It is cold," she said. "I think even I can't remember a colder night."

     "Oh, Grandma, how shall we get through to morning?"

     "Well," said the oldest sparrow, "I shall tell you the story that every sparrow on Michigan Avenue learns, a tale of a time long, long ago."

     "Oh do, oh do!"

     The young sparrows grew so excited that they hopped and chattered and several of them lost their perch and then fluttered about against the wind. The oldest sparrow waited until they had all regained their places and had settled down to listen.

     "Once upon a time," she began,  "on just such a night as this, there was a sparrow named Sammy who was not just cold but sick. Even when the sun finally peeked across the lake and over the park, Sammy felt weak and tired. It was still early and Michigan Avenue was still empty, so he went to the sidewalk and into a doorway where he could feel a bit of warmth seeping out from the building. He was almost drifting off to sleep, not a wise thing to do on the ground during the day, when he felt more and more warmth. He turned around and saw that the doorway had opened."

     "What did he do, what did he do?" all the young sparrows chirped.

     "He went inside. It was so warm that he felt better right away and he flew up to a perch where he was safe and could look around."

     "Where was he, where was he?"

     "He was in a truly marvelous place, but  Sammy didn't know that right away. All he knew was that he was where he was safe and could sleep. So he did. Later, when he woke up, he noticed that there was a human who was looking at him. Now, you all know that humans often drop crumbs and such, that's why we are lucky to live here near the park and all the eating places, but this human looked like he was putting a scatter of crumbs on the floor just for Sammy. And a little dish of water."

     "Not an accident?" asked one young sparrow.

     "Just for him?" asked another.

     "Just for Sammy," said the old sparrow. "After he ate, he felt a lot better, but he wasn't sure how to go outside. He hopped over to the door which was all glass and looked out to where the sun was shining."

     All the young sparrows held their breath because they all knew how awful it was to get trapped where you couldn't fly away.

     "Then the human came and opened the door. Sammy flew out into the Michigan Avenue sunshine and made sure that his flock was where it always was. But after a while, he felt the cold, and knew that he wasn't completely over being sick. So he flew back to the doorway and stood in front of it to see if it would open again. Sure enough it did. The kind man had been paying attention to see if Sammy would come back. Later, the kind man even let Sammy stay inside all night long and it was the safest, warmest place that he had ever been."

     The young sparrows were so entranced by the story that they forgot to even chatter as they waited. It was as if they had grown safe and warm just hearing about Sammy's story.

     "That was the beginning of a very special time. Sammy began to notice how marvelous the shop was. At first he had only known the shelter and the kindness, but all around him, he discovered, was the most shimmery, glittery, multitudinously colorful array of stones he had ever seen. He was familiar with gravel and pebbles, but these stones were shiny and smooth; some had the shapes they began with and some had been worked into new and curious shapes. There were reds that flared and sparkled, enchanting purples that sang of things deep and elder, blues of many hues that were wise and witty and mindful of other times and places. There were greens that were peaceful just to gaze at, and yellows that looked like melted stars. There was pink to delight and calm and soothe the heart, and there were ever so many clear stones to focus vision and lift thoughts."

     The old sparrow paused to give herself time to reflect on what she was saying and then she went on.

     "Sammy told some of his flock, and some came back with him. They were ever so surprised to find that he had not exaggerated one tiny bit. In fact, he had left out so very much. Like the wondrous and magical names of the stones: emerald and onyx and jade and opal; sapphire and ruby; topaz, carnelian, beryl and citrine; heliodore, amethyst, garnet and tourmaline.

     "The kind man's daughter, Helen, and her helper, Kim, came to the store every day and they made sure that there were always cracker crumbs and crushed peanuts and fresh water, and that the doors were opened at the proper times to welcome Sammy and his family. Winter turned to spring and then summer and the sparrows helped to welcome visitors from all over the world to the little shop full of wonders. They heard languages from Kenya and Morocco, from China and India, from Brazil and Mexico, from Russia and Greece and Australia, as if the stones called to people who now lived where they once had lived. For many a season after, Sammy and his family chorused a welcome to everyone who had come into the sheltering shop and the visitors were always astonished to find that here, everyone was welcome, even the least little sparrow."

     Once again the storyteller paused. Even the wind had hushed to listen too.

     "But all stories have an end, and this is one of the sad ones. One day, a person with a heart colder than any winter told someone with no understanding of what makes life precious that sparrows should not be in shops. They had reasons that we will never understand, and they could make things happen, and so from then on the glass door was closed to sparrows."

     The grandmother sparrow took a deep breath so she could make her voice memorable. "But you must remember, younglings, to tell this story whenever winter seems too cold, because legends have the power to warm our spirits and heal our hearts, and stories can be one of our most precious possessions."

 This story is a work of fiction, copyright by A. Koenig, March 2013.  Do not reprint, reproduce, or distribute without written permission of the original creator.

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