What He Valued Most
A young man learns what's most important in life from the guy next
door.
It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College,
girls,
career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear
across
the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his
busy
life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time
to
spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and
nothing
could stop him.
Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr.
Belser died last night. The
funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through
his mind like an old
newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood
days.
"Jack, did you hear me?"
"Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's
been so long since I thought of
him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he
died years ago," Jack said.
"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw
him he'd ask how you were
doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent
over 'his side of
the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.
"I loved
that old house he lived in," Jack said.
"You know, Jack, after your
father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make
sure you had a man's influence in
your life," she said.
"He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I
wouldn't be in this
business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time
teaching me
things he thought were important...Mom, I'll be there for the
funeral,"
Jack said.
As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught
the next flight to his
hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and
uneventful. He had no
children of his own, and most of his relatives had
passed away.
The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom
stopped by to
see the old house next door one more time.
Standing in
the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing
over into another
dimension, a leap through space and time. The house
was exactly as he
remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture,
every piece of
furniture....Jack stopped suddenly.
"What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom
asked.
"The box is gone," he said.
"What box? " Mom
asked.
"There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his
desk. I
must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever
tell
me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said.
It was gone.
Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered
it, except for the
box. He figured someone from the Belser family had
taken it.
"Now I'll
never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better
get some sleep.
I have an early flight home, Mom."
It had been about two weeks since Mr.
Belser died. Returning home from
work one day Jack discovered a note in his
mailbox. "Signature required
on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the
main post office within
the next three days," the note read.
Early the
next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and
looked like it
had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was
difficult to read,
but the return address caught his attention.
"Mr. Harold Belser" it
read.
Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There
inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he
read
the note inside.
"Upon my death, please forward this box and its
contents to Jack
Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small
key was taped
to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes,
Jack
carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful
gold
pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched
casing,
he unlatched the cover.
Inside he found these words engraved:
"Jack, Thanks for your time!
Harold Belser."
"The thing he valued
most...was...my time."
Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called
his office and
cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet,
his
assistant asked.
"I need some time to spend with my son," he
said.
"Oh, by the way, Janet...thanks for your time!"