When I was in high school I was told by a shy, studious fellow, that there was gold in the school's foundation. I looked closely, and there it was. If you stood close enough you could see the flecks of gold--not "fool's gold" but the real thing.
I did not think about it until one day, I saw two children nearby, looking a little bored. "Did you ever see the gold in the school?" I asked. I stepped over to the foundation and they followed. It was a bright sunny day. The tiny flecks gleamed. The children were amazed and looked more closely. They found more.
I left them then, and walked away. In my youth, I preferred the company of kids to that of most adults in my family. At holiday time, I avoided the cigar-chomping men and their long suffering wives, and ate at the kids' table. It was trivial time for adults, time to demonstrate how little you knew. Time to see who could be the most foolish. The kids were much better company. They were like angels by comparison.
About a year after the gold incident, I was walking through my town, past mansions, and great homes. I saw a little cottage, recently built, with a white picket fence. It looked like a movie set. Two children were in the yard, a boy about nine and a girl a little younger. They saw me and began to shout. "We remember the gold," yelled the boy." The girl joined in. "We'll never forget."
They are old by now, but I remember them as the children they were then. I'll never forget either.