Our Greatest Treasures Aren't In Banks
The addition of computer hardware to create CD's seemed to be a frill, but when the price dropped to $99, I succumbed. Only one problem remained: to win the mental game of proving I really needed it--after it had been bought and installed.
But if my wife thought it was a good idea, what more justification could I need? "Say, do you remember that box of old audio cassettes we made when Jenny and Barrett were little? I can move them over to CD so they won't get brittle and break." A splendid project, she acknowledged.
Wiring cassette player to computer, I plunked in old tapes one after another. For 11 hours that day our home reverberated with the sounds of children. Precious and endearing, we had forgotten so much.
Barrett talked and sang along with Mary as they made tapes for his profoundly retarded sister Jenny. Jenny depended on her tapes. Being blind, our voices were our portal to her heart. And being retarded, her slow growth lulled us into thinking our times together would always be like that. Her death proved otherwise.
Though Jenny never learned to talk, we often heard the pleasant cooing sounds she made when she was happy. But I heard more than that.
I heard a mom loving her children by spending quality hours at home with them. Barrett was first barely able to talk... then sounded out his letters... then made words... then began to read. He unashamedly professed love for Jenny, Jesus, and Mom and Dad. His tiny voice enthusiastically described fun things--and how he had "hurted" himself on concrete blocks.
Barrett's birthdays brought special appearances of young friends like Wesley Hill and Andrew Earl Booth. Hearing these now-grown young people was delightful. We were also reminded that the Browns--Miss Judy, Mr. Bill Foy, Jennifer, and Patrick--lived down the street with Bozo the dog.
Many venerated members of our Feline Hall of Fame--Old Puddy Tat, Amos Ray, and Robert--had moments in the spotlight. "Jenny, I chased Robert out of the kitchen because he stole a piece of ham off the cabinet." Or, "Puddy's here in my lap, Jenny." I almost expected to see Robert skulk around the corner with that slab of contraband ham.
I enjoyed that day. Our children were home with us through the tapes, and we relished reliving the seemingly ordinary events that now comprise our past. If it were possible, I'd like to go back and more fully enjoy each moment while it was mine.
Though I had hesitated over paying $99, our greatest treasures aren't stored away in banks, meant to be spent once and then forgotten. Real treasures are enduring and become more valuable each time we handle them. And where our treasures are, we'll surely find our hearts as well.
Copyright 2001 James McAlister
Comments
Post a Comment