Editor’s note: As it does every year, The Morning Call asked the Lehigh Valley’s top elected leaders to look back at 2025 and look ahead at 2026. Responses are running this first week of 2026 from U.S. Rep. Ryan Mackenzie, the newly elected executives of Lehigh and Northampton counties, and the mayors of Allentown, Bethlehem and Easton.
“What is the first thing we do with the ball?”
Our 2-year-old, Leo, loves basketballs. He carries them wherever he goes including to the park — a place we spent an immeasurable amount of time this year.
When I ask, “What is the first thing we do with the ball?” he will, most of the time, pass the ball to whoever the new person is that we run into. It could be an adult, a toddler friend or a teenager who is kind enough to stop and smile. I don’t know if Leo will ever play basketball beyond our marathon sessions in the basement or at the park. We are trying our hardest though to teach him that teammates that pass the ball first as the ones that people want on their team.
We spend a lot of time at parks. Some days we go to the park and there is no one there. Some days we go and see people we know. Some days we meet complete strangers. He is 2 years old so there is a lot of “my ball, my slide, my swing.” And if you have ever been to a park with a 2-year-old, you have probably seen disagreements between children who both believe they have acquired private property ownership of a public piece of park equipment.
Leo’s first reaction sometimes might be “my ball” as he looks to protect his ball as much as he can. After a few minutes though, and maybe an explanation from mom, dad, or grandma, we can convince Leo that the kid he just met isn’t trying to take his ball. He just wants to play with Leo. He wants to be friends. He is after the same thing Leo is after — a good time at the park.
Watching toddlers learn is beautiful and amazing. As the year went on, Leo became less and less protective and more and more excited to meet new kids. They don’t even need to be kids that have a toy or a ball that Leo wants. They are just there to be friends.
I have made so many new “park” friends throughout the year. I don’t talk to these adults about anything but our children. They are conversations about sharing, kindness and empathy in children. Watching these new friends from across the park commit to teaching children to reject selfishness as a natural emotional reaction is my version of the slide or the swing.
Watching toddlers not just sharing, but wanting to share, reminds me that our mindset of scarcity isn’t inherent in human nature. We learn and adopt that identity as we get older. “My ball” or “my park” often evolves into “my parking spot” or “my neighborhood.”
The joys of being a parent are greater than I could have imagined. People told me that frustrating moments would happen. I think though that people were referring to early mornings, tantrums and periods of illness (full credit here to my wife who handles more of these things than I do and does it in a magical and patient way).
My parenting frustration is a different kind of frustration. Some days, I wonder — how does the sharing identity of youth turn into the scarcity mindset of adults? How do kids who understand that there are limits to the joy that one can experience when they look at the other kids at the park as competition turn into adults who base their entire lives around the idea of competing?
Toddlers often have amazing perspective on what is important. Competition and consumerism haven’t been ingrained in them yet. They don’t take pride in who has the most expensive sneakers or best stroller or who has the biggest house. They aren’t scared of sitting in a class with students with different levels of income or different stories. They don’t want less kids at their park so they can have it all to themselves, they want more. They don’t argue over parking spot convenience on public streets. They don’t care about followers or likes. They learn those things from us.
Our community is fortunate to have thousands and thousands of people who dedicate their lives to sharing, welcoming, and supporting. People who have everything they need and are committed to helping others get what they need — even if it means giving up a little something to help them get it. As we enter a new year, we say thank you to everyone who gets up in the morning who knows there can be more than enough to go around.
Leo came home the other day with grandma, and he was exasperated and disappointed. He looked at mom and dad and said, “No friends at the park!” No one to meet. No one to go on the slide with. No one to help. No one to share joy with. Then he smiled, grabbed his ball, and wanted to go on his scooter to see if there were any new friends in the neighborhood to play with. For him to be happy, he needed someone to pass the ball to.
This is a contributed opinion column. J. William Reynolds is the mayor of Bethlehem. The views expressed in this piece are those of its individual author and should not be interpreted as reflecting the views of this publication. For more details on commentaries, read our guide to guest opinions at themorningcall.com/opinions.