My Time With Mr. Davis by Corban

My Time With Mr. Davis by Corban - May 2018 Scholarship Essay

I used to always wonder why my father gave so much of his time to others. After working so hard through the week and spending time with me and my two sisters ripping and running taking us to our activities, why does he get up early on Saturdays instead of sleeping in. For example he would always cut our neighbor’s grass who is elderly and can’t do it himself. Or volunteering at our local YMCA to coach youth football, basketball and soccer. I just didn’t get it.

Until, I was asked to capture some volunteer hours for my IB program at school. Normally I would volunteer in the media center or sweep up the gym, but my mom told me to try something different. She suggested to me to consider the living assisted facility not far from our house. “They are always looking for someone.” she stated to me. So I went down to sign up. All they asked for me to do was to come in on a Saturday morning and help out with serving breakfast.

That next Saturday I went down and jumped right on in and began my duty. My task was to serve drinks. Coffee, juice, milk or water whatever the folks wanted, that’s what I served.

After breakfast was over, I sat down at a table by myself to catch a little break before starting to clean up. That’s when a gentleman, probably in his 70s walked over and introduced himself and asked if he could sit down at the table with me. “Sure Mr. Davis” I said. Not thinking what was going to happen next.

Before I know it he was talking about his time in the early days of Charlotte, North Carolina. I found it fascinating. Hearing him telling me about the old trolley system that used run between downtown Charlotte and the Elizabeth neighborhood. He told me about the center of downtown, where in the early days of the city that was considered a trading post. Before I know it, it was 1 in the afternoon and I had to leave. I thanked him for his stories and told him I would be back for more.

I visited Mr. Davis every Saturday for as long as I could remember. One day I went in just to say hello and one of his daughters were there in the room with him. She asked as I stood in the doorway “Are you Corban?” “Yes” I replied. After meeting her, she thanked me for spending time with her father. As it turs out he never had a son so he never got the opportunity to enjoy the conversation of a son like figure.

That’s when it hit me. I began to understand why my father spent so much of his time volunteering to others. I felt so good inside knowing that the time I spent every Saturday went a long way in helping Mr. Davis fill a void that he had in his life, and that I began to understand how I can make a difference with other people.