We Must Learn To Dig In Different Strata

Like a ringmaster cracking his whip, I waved the little tool in the air. Its jaws firmly clamped a plastic bottle cap that had defied numerous attempts at extraction from the sink drain. Who would have imagined its connection to a man seeking to solve a mystery 40 years before?

Mr. Braswell and I were an unlikely pair to be thrust together. He, a retiree, and I, a high school senior, were in strata that seldom mix. Thus we were not aware of each other--until he called me on the phone to lay out the mystery.

It was benign but puzzling. Mr. Braswell had suddenly began receiving unexpected batches of "QSL cards" that ham radio operators use to confirm their on-the-air contacts. But the cards were obviously intended for someone else. Was I that person, he wondered?

I was. Cards often arrived in town with incomplete delivery information, but the post office still tried to get them to the intended recipient. Unlike mine, Mr. Braswell's radio operations were well known at the post office, so cards that couldn't otherwise be deciphered often ended up with him by default.

But a bit of careful sleuthing set the records--and the cards--straight, and we became friends. When I went to college, Mr. Braswell and I kept a regular schedule of Saturday morning radio contacts. When I came home, I would visit him and sometimes help with radio problems he couldn't solve. But other priorities--my marriage for one--gradually crept in, and we lost touch.

Shocked upon hearing of his death a few years later, my wife and I stopped in to visit Mrs. Braswell the next time we were in town. It would be a great relief, she assured me, if I would take Mr. Braswell's radio gear. She had no use for it and knew he would want me to have it. I was thrilled--and took it all.

Over the years I gradually disposed of items that no longer survived changing interests and the encroachment of newer technology. All the old is gone now--except for the aforementioned little tool and the memory of its original owner.

I understand something today that wouldn't have made sense 40 years ago. As people age, they often experience erosion of a sense of worth, of belonging, of feeling that they still have something of value to contribute to society. Unfortunately, many younger people too heartily agree.

Mr. Braswell could never have known that his investment in a 16-year-old would still be paying dividends 40 years later. I'm enriched because of his efforts to help me, and I hope the benefits were mutual.

If we want to strike the purest gold in life, we must all--old and young alike--make the effort to dig in different strata. It's hard work, but worth the effort.

Copyright 2001 James McAlister

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