Spreading Joy in Real World Poses a Real Question : There was a glow of satisfaction at having put on a holiday party for needy youngsters. But then came the query: Are some of the needy embarrassed to go to such events?

It is the season for minor miracles . . .

On Dec. 12 my recreation programming class at Cal State Northridge put on a holiday crafts and games event for kids 6 to 12 and their parents at the Sepulveda Recreation Center. We spent three hours eating snicker-doodles and donated food and making greeting cards from construction paper.

Candy cane reindeer emerged from peppermint sticks and pipe cleaners, with red chenille puff balls for noses. A volunteer deejay played holiday tunes, with a few oldies and light rap thrown in.

We had decorations and contests. We gave away baseball cards, books with accompanying audiotapes, lollipops and a few other goodies.

I thought things had gone well. Several parents approached the students and me to thank the class. Children left with grocery bags laden with cards, decorations and prizes. Tummies were full, and the cider was almost gone.

*

A success in every sense of the word! The students had left the ivory tower to serve a real community, real people. They had done a great job. Everyone seemed happy as we cleaned up.

As I took a load of leftovers to my car, one of my students approached me. I anticipated a burst of enthusiasm or a satisfied sigh.

“You know, Dr. Ward,” he said, “I used to be a poor kid. I always wondered why people showed up at holiday time to give us things. I never would have come to something like this when I was a kid. I would have been ashamed. Do you really think programs like this do any good?”

Wow! I thought about what he said. We stood by my car and talked for 10 minutes. Of course some kids, and some parents, shy away from anything resembling charity. Others happily accept the kindness of strangers. There’s nothing patronizing about sharing your knowledge with other people, and we’re recreation pros, experts at helping people have a good time.

I reminded him of the smiling faces and the whipped cream streaming down them during the Santa’s-beard contest. I recalled the 14-year-olds and the adults who had “sneaked in” to make their own creative projects, to recapture their youth, to reclaim the magic of play.

Our goal had not been to change the world, rehabilitate the community or even to tackle social problems. We were there to create an experience, to provide an opportunity to relax and think about positive ways to spend free time. We created an oasis. We spun a little holiday magic.

“Well,” he finally said, “I think I understand what you mean.”

*

The next morning the student popped up outside of my office door. “You know, Dr. Ward,” he said, “I’ve thought a lot about our program yesterday, and I think it was pretty good. The people really seemed to enjoy it. I’m glad we did it.”

Little miracles are what this time of year is all about. Expect good things. Offer joy. Create your own magic.