| Treasured Gifts |
| Every workday in my home
office begins with a ritual. The cover of the roll top is lifted
as I gaze upon three items sitting on a top shelf in the desk.
When time permits, I reflect at length on these.
I consider a small red plastic
box. It is small. It's 1" by 2" by 2" and 1/2" deep. Contained
therein are old stamps given to me by Wild Bill. Some are the two
cent variety. The rest follow postal increases up through the
eight cent stamp. They come from all over these United States.
Granddad took them from postcards and letters mailed to him by
family and friends.
The treasure houses no
potential gold mine. No safety deposit box at the bank is
required. It's of great worth, but the value is sentimental. The
container reminds me of the man. When I behold it, I remember
him. His thinking mode was set when life was not so complex. He
was an early twentieth century quintessential American. He valued
principle. He believe in a hard day's work. Family and friends
were important to him. When I eye that box, I am touched by the
fact that Wild Bill gave it to me. He prized those stamps. That
is of significance to me.
Having special meaning for me
is another gift lying alongside the red box. It is a pocket-sized
brown Bible. The book was printed and issued to the nation's
fighting men in 1917 by the American Bible Society. Wild Bill's
brother, our Uncle Henry, carried it with him to Europe. It was
always in his backpack, as he fought in the trenches of World War
I.
When my dad left for military
duty in January of 1943, Uncle Henry placed the safekeeping of
that holy book on my father's hands. The little brown Bible was a
source of strength for him as his unit pursued the Nazis across
the European continent. As my eyes come in contact with this book
of Scriptures, I am reminded that freedom does not come cheap. No
bargains out there. It has a tremendous cost.
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| A Precious Piece of Silver |
| Juxtaposed with the box of
stamps and the Bible sits another memento that speaks to me. The
silver POW bracelet is inscribed "1lt. Ronald Forrester
12-27-72." I've owned it since the mid-seventies. The bracelet
means several things to me. It tells me that my brother's fate is
unresolved. The slim possibility exists that he may yet be alive.
As long as there is any flicker on the candle of hope, we will
not write him off.
We expect the government to
continue to work toward resolution of this issue. We expect them
to pressure Vietnam for answers. They owe it to Ron. He put his
life on the line for the U.S.A. forty-seven times. The bracelet
reveals more to me. At one time, my brother belonged to Uncle
Sam. Now, whether he be dead or alive, he belongs to God. He
always did.
As I am transfixed by the
bracelet, I remember my brother. He was competitive. He was
committed. He was dedicated. He was kind and caring. He was
personable. I looked up to him. He was the best and the
brightest. The little silver piece that rests on that shelf
reminds me of something else. It causes me to think on Thomas
Jefferson's concept of freedom. Yes, my brother has watered the
tree of liberty.
The POW bracelet serves, as
well, as a source of inspiration. I realize when I look at it
that I have the opportunities in life my brother has not had. I'm
watching my children grow. I, myself, can embrace them with great
regularity. Shoot ! I don't go to the mailbox without giving them
a kiss. Ron was not as fortunate. He would be thrilled to know
that his daughter chose to attend Texas A&M.
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| Opporunity Abounds |
| I have the chance my brother
never had. I am working in the business world as a manufacturer's
representative. I know the thrill of signing a contract to sell
for a major representative. I know, too, the depth of despair and
the fear of financial ruin when I've been blindsided by a company
for whom I have had a long term association. I know about chasing
orders. I've been depressed when I lost a big quote to a
competitor. Conversely, I've been on that mountain top of ecstasy
when the big order was placed with us.
Things surely haven't always
gone my way. I've been in business for myself for over ten years.
In three of those years I made some decent money. I made
considerably more than I was used to earning. In some of the
other years, we've almost starved to death. In every month of
those years, we've been challenged to make the bare minimum which
would enable us to pay our bills.
Still, we were in the hunt.
We've been able to play the game, and it's been fun. When I
behold the bracelet, I remember that my brother isn't in the
professional ranks. He has not been able to use his engineering
skills in the world under construction.
Like the stamp box and the
Bible, that silver trinket is symbolic of much meaning for
me.
I do struggle through many
days. In so doing, I attempt to apply Ron's philosophy of jumping
out of airplanes to my life. Opportunity abounds. Blue sky is
everywhere. It surrounds us. When thinking of him, no push is
required. I am determined to risk the plunge. May God grant us
his zest for life.
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