On a recent visit to Popham Beach, we happened upon a family gathering near the long entrance to the beach. The group included an older woman in a wheel chair with big rubber wheels designed especially for the beach. It appeared she was dealing with cancer or some other major illness. Her grandson was pushing her. As we neared the beach, the woman said, “Oh, I’m in heaven!”

A few days later, a niece who was visiting commented about someone overreacting to a perceived hurt. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, “We’re all just walking each other home.” I loved that phrase and later discovered that it came from the book, “Walking Each Other Home: Conversations on Loving and Dying” by Ram Dass and Mirabai Bush.

The phrase reminds me of those video clips from long running races where one runner collapses and another runner stops to lend a hand. I ran several Boston Marathons to raise money for various charities. The Coach of the Marathon Coalition for charity runners was Rick Muhr, an extraordinary runner and motivational leader. Rick would always stand at the 14-mile mark in Wellesley, giving high fives and praise to every single runner of the Coalition. He was walking us “home,” which was 12.2 miles away on Boylston Street in downtown Boston.

I wish more Americans would keep this concept in mind while dealing with the pandemic. Getting vaccinated is not a matter of giving up one’s freedom. It is helping walk each other home. We are stronger and more human when we work together, when we answer “Yes!” to the question, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

The Reverend Carolyn Eklund, the rector at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, truly believes in the “walking each other home” philosophy. She uses the pastor’s “discretionary fund” to pass out food cards and gas cards on a regular basis to people in need.

We would all do well in this era of “me first” braggadocio to remember the words of poet John Donne:

“‘No Man is an Island’ No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as any manner of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

David Treadwell, a Brunswick writer, welcomes commentary and suggestions for future “Just a Little Old” columns. dtreadw575@aol.com. (David’s latest book co-authored with Anneka Williams, who graduated from Bowdoin College this past May, is entitled, “A Flash Fiction Exchange Between Methuselah and the Maiden: Sixty Stories to While Away the Hours,” is available at Gulf of Maine books (Brunswick), Mockingbird Books (Bath), Longfellow Books (Portland), Paul’s Marina (Brunswick), the Bowdoin Bookstore or on Amazon.