For parents of school-age children, weekends are rarely days off. In fact, there are some Saturdays and Sundays when I work harder than I do on weekdays, I just don’t get paid. One of my weekend “jobs” has been on the soccer field. For six years, I was the coach of my son’s soccer team. When Jesse turned 12 two years ago, I retired from coaching his travel team, but I still trudge to all of the team’s weekend games. I guess that’s not work, but it can be just as stressful. I’m sure other parents whose children are involved in youth sports know what I mean.

This fall, Jesse’s team, Pittsburgh Dynamo, played one of its longtime rivals from nearby Norwin. Nearly halfway through the game, there was no score, but the play on the field was far from even—Norwin was dominating Dynamo. Suddenly, though, the ball came to midfield, where Jesse was positioned. With a couple of moves (which I take no credit for teaching him), he had a clear angle at the goal from about 20 yards away. A score would undoubtedly break the spirit of the hardworking Norwin team. But the goalkeeper made sure that didn’t happen. The momentum of the game never changed, and Dynamo lost 2–0.

It was going to be a long car ride home. I wasn’t happy with the team’s overall effort, even though I kept telling myself it was just a game. Jesse’s mood wasn’t any better, so we rode in silence with my wife, Debra, behind the wheel. Fortunately, she knew how to cheer up Jesse. The left turn signal went on, and she pulled into a Dairy Queen parking lot.

One of the joys of parenthood is seeing the world again through the eyes of our children. I’ll bet I hadn’t had a chocolate milkshake for 20 years before Jesse discovered such a concoction exists. His discovery was a rediscovery for me. On more than one occasion, I ordered a round of chocolate shakes after a soccer game or practice.

(I learned quickly I had to order my own, because asking Jesse for a swig was like trying to take away a treat from the family dog, Duke.) Jesse often teased me that when I had a shake in hand, I immediately was in the best of moods.

After Dynamo’s defeat to Norwin, I didn’t feel like being in a good mood, so Jesse would drink alone during the 25-minute ride home. Once we were on the road again, with Jesse slurping away, I started to forget about the game and thought about all of the chores I had to do instead.

My mental list was interrupted by a nudge from behind. Jesse was doing the unthinkable. He offered me half his milkshake. I gladly accepted, and sure enough, my mood improved.

I was as proud of Jesse for his selfless act as I would have been had he scored the game’s opening goal. I think Tuomas Sandholm, the subject of this issue’s cover story, Pay It Forward (page 22), would be proud of Jesse, too. The Carnegie Mellon professor’s work could help to save thousands of lives annually. But the process depends on selfless acts among loved ones, not entirely unlike Jesse sharing his chocolate milkshake with me.

Robert Mendelson
   Executive Editor