Currently, I have been engaged in various endeavors. Given the current job market, with a significant number of individuals unemployed and my position being relatively stable, I was fortunate to have recently participated in a job interview in another state. This opportunity arose unexpectedly when I dropped my son off at school and encountered an old acquaintance who informed me about a position that would represent a substantial advancement from my current role. While I am content with my current position, I acknowledge the growth potential and am exploring new opportunities.
Today, I came across a post by Steve Quick, who expressed dissatisfaction with lamps. While the subject matter may seem trivial, it serves as a poignant reflection on the societal values that have evolved over time. (Steve’s insights often prompt thoughtful contemplation, which is commendable.)
His post prompted me to reflect on my own career trajectory. Remarkably, this is the most extended period I have dedicated to a single job, spanning 14 years. Throughout my 35-year career, I have held over 12 jobs. Consequently, I am considering a transition to a new role, which will diverge from the traditional pattern of employment stability.
In addition to the disposable nature of material goods, we have also witnessed a shift towards a transient society. This transformation raises concerns about the erosion of long-term relationships and the lack of commitment to personal growth and development.
I often read websites about this issue. Patrick Deneen’s blog, What I Saw in America, and his Front Porch Republic site are thought-provoking. However, Margaret and Helen offer a different perspective.
The absence of employee dedication is another concern. Companies no longer exhibit loyalty towards their employees; individuals are regarded as commodities reliant on stock performance. Is this accurate? I am uncertain about this notion. It is merely a recent thought that has occurred to me.
I discovered a diet and exercise software application called Nutrition, which I find more satisfactory than FitDay. It meticulously records food intake and provides comprehensive nutrition analysis. The software is web-based and offers an iPhone application that functions exceptionally well. I can conveniently add food items immediately after consuming them, rather than recording them later. This feature enhances convenience.
I had scheduled an appointment with my doctor yesterday to address my knee issue, but an out-of-state interview postponed it. Fortunately, all examinations have concluded without any significant findings. My symptoms have improved, but I intend to engage in short running sessions to minimize knee strain. This may prove beneficial as the onset of winter and the reduction in daylight hours approach.
The UMTR festival will be held this Saturday. While I eagerly anticipate attending, I have a prior commitment to witness a local artist’s CD release party at Bunkers. I will depart at 8 p.m., thereby missing several awards and presentations. Despite this, I am confident that the Ultra attendees will provide an enjoyable and lively atmosphere.
I extend my best wishes to all. This weekend marks the final free period before four consecutive weekends of tennis, two weekends of respite, and subsequently five weekends of tennis to commence the new year. While I had intended to reduce my commitments, the cost of tuition has necessitated a temporary adjustment.
I would like to express my sincere gratitude to those who have sacrificed their lives and to their loved ones who endure after a soldier’s loss. I visited Fort Snelling Cemetery and took photographs. One particular image resonated with me, and I have shared it here. I could have easily spent the entire day exploring the cemetery. It is far larger than I initially perceived and holds a wealth of historical significance.
This post should be shorter. If you read this far, I must add a story. After leaving the cemetery where many lives were cut short, I thought of and read a favorite story. It’s about cherishing things, but forgetting that time with friends and loved ones is the most precious. The story goes:
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 across the country in pursuit of his dreams. 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 was going to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door again.
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 he kept locked on 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 of his car and ripped open the package. Inside were 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, tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. Inside, he found a beautiful gold pocket watch.
He unlatched the cover by running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing. 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!"
That is the story! We all could learn from that lesson. We are so tied up in a profession, we forget to cherish the one thing we can never control. Time!
Thanks much for your time, my friends. Carry on.
Comments from my original blog - I merged the blogs.
No comments:
Post a Comment