I attended a conference in New Orleans last week and was pleased to find the city recovering. The French Quarter was alive, but the lower neighborhoods still had evidence of hardship and trauma. Most striking were water lines on the houses and a visible black ‘X’ on a wall indicating the number of dead found inside. While chilling, it was good to see the tourism and restaurant industries picking up.

I stayed in an apartment in the French Quarter right next to Jackson Square. The location was incredible, and I must thank Michael Weems for his hospitality.

Michael had a Frisbee, and after the conference activities one day we went to Jackson Square to throw the disc. We found an open area next to the sidewalk and we were about thirty yards apart.

We were passed by many walkers while we threw, but one family stands out in my mind. Ten minutes into our session a father with his son on his shoulders walked past. The mother followed four feet behind, and a young daughter, maybe four, followed another four feet behind her mother.

The daughter was very upset. She was crying, stomping her feet, and generally acting like something was terribly wrong. The family walked past without the mother or father paying any mind to their daughter.

Fifteen minutes later the same family came walking the other way. Absolutely nothing had changed in their appearance, with the father in front with his son on his shoulders, the mother following and the daughter in back. The daughter was still crying and carrying on in the same manner as before. In my estimation she had been in that state for over thirty minutes.

When they got about twenty yards from me, I threw the Frisbee. I would describe it as a poor throw. The Frisbee started curving toward the family, went between two pillars and hit the little girl right on the head. She stopped in her tracks and looked up at the sky in disbelief. She also stopped crying.

I’ve never felt such deep and immediate remorse and regret. I certainly didn’t want to hit anyone, let alone a distraught four year old.

Michael tried to comfort the family, but it seemed that the parents were grateful for the episode. Without any comment they shuffled off.

I don’t think she will ever cry again.