Jim Stovall's The Ultimate Gift Series PDF

Contents e Ultimate Gift e Ultimate Life e Ultimate Journey e Gift of a Legacy Look into the depths OF ANOTHER’S SOUL AND LISTEN, not only with our ears, BUT WITH OUR HEARTS AND IMAGINATION, and our silent love. Joye Kanelakos Introduction You and I are preparing to take a journey together within the pages of this book that you hold in your hands. I want to thank you for the investment you have made and will be making in our journey. I believe that when you read the last page of e Ultimate Gift, you will be a diﬀerent person than you are at this moment. At that point, our journey together will have ended, but your journey into the fullness of your destiny will be just beginning. Like any other journey or trip you have ever taken, it becomes more meaningful based upon the special people in your life who share this trip with you. I am sure you can remember wonderful trips or vacations that you have been on in the past. As those pleasant memories of your travels come back to you, they are lled not only with your destination, but the special people and loved ones who shared the journey with you. When you have concluded reading e Ultimate Gift and have begun in earnest your life’s journey, my fervent hope is that you will share e Ultimate Gift with friends, family, and the special people in your world who make your life’s journey priceless. ank you for sharing this part of my life’s journey and for allowing me and the e Ultimate Gift to travel with you on part of your life’s journey. Respectfully, Jim Stovall One In the Beginning A journey may be long or short, but it must start at the very spot one finds oneself. It was in my fty-third year of practicing law, and my eightieth year of life here on this earth, that I was to undertake an odyssey that would change my life forever. I was seated behind my mahogany monstrosity of a desk in my top- oor, corner oﬃce of an imposing building in the most prominent section of Boston. In the marble foyer, the antique brass plate on the outer door reads Hamilton, Hamilton, & Hamilton. Of the aforementioned, I am the rst Hamilton—eodore J. Hamilton, to be accurate. My son and grandson account for the remainder of the Hamiltons in the rm. I would not say that we are the most prestigious law rm in all of Boston, because that would not be totally circumspect. However, if someone else were to say that, I would not go out of my way to disagree. As I was simply drinking in the ambiance in my antiquated but palatial oﬃce, I was thinking how far I had come since the lean days in law school. I enjoyed gazing upon my wall of fame, which includes photographs taken of me with the last ve presidents of the United States, among other signi cant persons. I glanced at the familiar sight of oor-to-ceiling shelves of leather-bound books, the massive oriental rug, and the classic leather furniture, all of which predate me. My enjoyment in simply experiencing the familiar environment was interrupted when the telephone on my desk buzzed. I heard the reliable and familiar voice of Margaret Hastings. “Sir,” she said, “may I step in and have a word with you?” As we had been working together for more than forty years, I knew that tone was reserved for the most serious and somber of circumstances. “Come in, please,” I replied immediately. Miss Hastings entered promptly, securing the door behind her, and sat across the desk from me. She had not brought her calendar, her correspondence, or documents of any type. I was trying to remember the last time Margaret had entered my inner sanctum without some baggage, when she said without preamble or delay, “Mr. Hamilton, Red Stevens just died.” When you get to be an octogenarian, you grow as accustomed as one can to losing friends and family. But some of the losses hit you harder than others. is one shook me to my core. Amid all of the emotions and memories that ooded over me, I realized that I would have to do what Red would expect of me, which was simply to do my job. I shifted into my lawyer mode and told Miss Hastings, “We will need to contact all of the family members, the various corporate boards and business interests, and be ready to control the media circus that will begin any minute.” Miss Hastings stood up and said, “I’ll handle everything.” She quickly walked to the door and then hesitated a moment. After an uncomfortable pause, during which I realized Margaret Hastings and I were crossing that line that divides professional and personal, she said quietly, “Mr. Hamilton, I am sorry for your loss.” Miss Hastings closed the door and left me alone with my thoughts. Two weeks later, I found myself at the head of our massive conference table with all of Red Stevens’ various relatives gathered around. e feeling of anticipation—bordering on greed—was almost a physical presence in the room. Knowing Red’s feelings toward the majority of his relatives, I knew he would want me to prolong their misery as long as possible. erefore, I had Margaret oﬀer everyone coﬀee, tea, or soft drinks along with anything else she could think of. I scanned and rescanned the voluminous documents before me and cleared my throat multiple times. Finally, realizing that I was stretching the bounds of propriety, I rose to my feet and addressed the motley assemblage. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, we are here to read the last will and testament of Howard ‘Red’ Stevens. I realize that this is a diﬃcult time for all of us and that our personal losses individually far outweigh any legal or nancial concerns we might have this morning.” I knew that wherever he was, Red would enjoy the irony. “I will dispense with the preliminaries, the boilerplate, and the legalese, and will go directly to the issues at hand. Red Stevens was a very successful man in every sense of that word. His bequests are much as Red was himself—very simple and straightforward. “I drew up this revised will for Mr. Stevens just over a year ago on his seventy- fth birthday. I know from our subsequent conversations that this document does, indeed, re ect his nal wishes. I will read directly from his will, and you will realize as I read that while this document is totally legal and binding, some of the passages are in Red’s own words. “To my eldest son, Jack Stevens, I leave my rst company, Panhandle Oil and Gas. At the writing of this will, Panhandle’s worth is somewhere in the neighborhood of $600 million.” Several gasps could be heard from around the table along with one prolonged, audible squeal of glee. I set the document down on the edge of the table and looked over the top of my reading glasses with my most intimidating courtroom stare. After a signi cant pause, I picked up the will and continued. “Although Jack will be the sole owner of the company, its management and operations will be left in the hands of Panhandle’s board of directors, which has served me so well over so many years. Jack, I want you to know that since you didn’t have any interest in the company when I was living, I gured you wouldn’t have any interest now that I’m gone. And letting you control something like Panhandle would be like giving a three-year-old a loaded gun. I want you to know that I have instructed Mr. Hamilton to write this will in such a way that if you ght for control or hinder the board or even complain about the nature of my bequest to you, the entire ownership of Panhandle Oil and Gas will immediately go to charity.” I looked up from the will and stared at Jack Stevens. e entire range of possible emotions was displayed on his face. Jack Stevens was a fty-seven-year- old playboy who had never known the privilege of earning a day’s wages. He had no idea of the favor his father had done for him by taking the control of Panhandle Oil and Gas out of his hands. I knew he was feeling that this was just one more time when he failed to live up to his illustrious father’s expectations. I actually felt some pity for Jack as I explained, “Mr. Stevens, the will does direct that each bequest be read in order and that the parties be dismissed after the portion of the document pertaining to them has been read.” He looked at me with a confused expression on his countenance and said, “What?” At that point, always vigilant Miss Hastings took his arm and said, “Mr. Stevens, I’ll escort you to the door.” When everyone had settled back into their chairs, and the level of anticipation had again risen to a fever pitch, I continued. “To my only daughter, Ruth, I leave the family home and ranch in Austin, Texas, along with all working cattle operations.” Ruth was seated at the far end of the table with her dubious husband and oﬀspring. Even at that distance, the sound of her hands slapping together and greedily rubbing back and forth could be heard. She and her family were so self-absorbed that I do not believe they understood the fact that the entire operation would be managed for them and that they would be kept at arm’s length where they could not hurt themselves or anyone else. Miss Hastings promptly showed them from the room. I cleared my throat and continued. “To my youngest son, and only other remaining child, Bill, I leave the entire holdings of my stock, bond, and investment portfolio. However, Bill, this portfolio will be left in the hands of Mr. Hamilton and his rm to be managed in trust for you and your heirs so that there will be something left to divide when somebody is reading your will someday.” e room continued to clear as each of the more distant relatives received their eagerly awaited windfall. Finally, there was but one, lone occupant of the room remaining with Miss Hastings and me. I looked down the table at young Jason Stevens, the twenty-four-year-old great-nephew of my longtime friend, Red Stevens. He glared back at me with a look of rage, de ance, and disrespect that only someone who has made a lifelong practice of sel sh anger can muster. He slammed his hand on the table and yelled at me, “I knew that mean old man wouldn’t leave anything for me. He always hated me.” He stood and began to stomp out of the room. “Not so fast,” I called to him. “You are, indeed, mentioned here in the will.” He slid back into his chair and stared toward me, stone-faced, not wanting to signal the hope he felt. I returned his cold stare, determined not to speak until he did. Patience comes easily to those of us who have seen eighty birthdays. Finally, when he could stand it no longer, he said, “Okay, what did the old goat give me?” As I sat down and reached for the document, I heard young Jason Stevens mutter, “I bet it’s nothing.” I sat back in my chair and smiled at him as I said, “Young man, it is, indeed, nothing and everything—both at the same time.” Two A Voice from the Past In the end, a person is only known by the impact he or she has on others. Jason Stevens and I sat in silence as Miss Hastings left the room and quickly returned with a large cardboard box. She set the box next to me at the end of the table and took her customary place on my right. I turned to Jason and said, “Young man, this box was given to me by your great-uncle, Red Stevens, on the day he prepared his last will and testament. e box was sealed at that time and has been kept in our vault per Mr. Stevens’ instructions until today. As you can plainly see, the seal is still intact. ere are very speci c and detailed instructions as to how I am to administer this gift to you.” I broke open the seal, reached inside the box, and took out a videotape. I handed it to Miss Hastings, and she put the tape in the video player contained in the built-in console at the end of the conference room. She sat down next to me holding the remote control. Jason Stevens blurted out, “What’s going on here? Everyone else walks out with millions of dollars, and I get some kind of home movie.” I tried to ignore his smug attitude and replied, “I think it will all become clear to you shortly.” I nodded to Miss Hastings. She dimmed the lights and started the video. After some brief static, the image of seventy- ve-year-old Red Stevens appeared on the screen. Red Stevens was a big man in every sense of that word. He had come to Texas out of the swamps of Louisiana with nothing but determination, strength, and the clothes on his back, and during the Depression and war years, had built an oil and cattle empire that rivaled any in the world. He was the kind of man who dominated every situation in which he was involved. Even now, with just his video image on the large screen at the end of the conference room, I could feel the energy level in the room climbing. Red Stevens cleared his throat and began to speak. “Well, Jason, since you’re watching this videotape, we will assume that I have kicked the bucket, bit the dust, bought the farm, and gone on to my just rewards. I know that my instructions have been followed to the letter, so you are viewing this video with my oldest and dearest friend, eodore Hamilton, and his trusted associate, Margaret Hastings. Son, you don’t know enough to realize it, but these are two of the nest people to ever walk God’s green earth.” Red paused for a minute and then spoke directly to Margaret and me using a derivative of my name that only Red Stevens was allowed to use. “Ted, I want to thank both you and Margaret for dealing with all of my in- laws, outlaws, and assorted mis t relatives earlier today. I know that none of them will win any prizes. I also want to apologize to both of you for the sorry attitude that I’m sure Jason has already displayed during these proceedings.” Red paused for another brief moment, cleared his throat, and began again. “Jason, I lived my life in a big way. I had a lot of big accomplishments, and I made a lot of big mistakes. One of the biggest mistakes I ever made was when I gave everyone in our family everything that they thought they ever wanted. It took me many years to gure out that everything we ever do or know or have in this life is a gift from the good Lord. He has a special plan for each of us, and He has provided everything we need to ful ll that plan. I spent many years trying to achieve happiness or buy it for friends and family. Only as an old man did I come to learn that all happiness comes from the gifts that God has given us. Unfortunately, the money and possessions I spread around didn’t help people to understand the gifts that have been provided for us. In trying to make up for all the times I wasn’t there, I gave them all material things. In doing so, I robbed them of everything that makes life wonderful. “Gratefully, I also discovered God is merciful, and I believe I’ve made peace within regarding my shortcomings. However, I think my family members are all permanently ruined. It’s like when a horse goes bad. You simply have to take him out and shoot him. Unfortunately, as my lawyer Mr. Hamilton advised me, shooting our entire family would be frowned upon. He also rightly reminded me that God never gives up on people. erefore, I leave my family in God’s hands, and I have taken steps in my will to provide a living for all of these relatives even if they will never experience life. “You, on the other hand, Jason, may be the last great vestige of hope in our family. Although your life to date seems to be a sorry excuse for anything I would call promising, there does seem to be some spark of something in you I am hoping we can capture and fan into a ame. For that reason, I am not making you an instant millionaire for the rest of your life.” Jason slammed his open palm onto the conference table and began to speak, but was interrupted by Red Stevens’ words from the videotape. “Now, Jason, before you mouth oﬀ and embarrass both you and me in front of these ne people, let me explain the ground rules here. “On the rst of each month for the next year, you will meet with Mr. Hamilton and Miss Hastings and be given one element of what I call the ultimate gift. “If you stay the course over the next year, and embrace each element, at that point you will be the recipient of the most signi cant bequest I can leave you through my will. But understand, if at any time you do not perform as indicated, or if you give Mr. Hamilton or Miss Hastings an undue amount of diﬃculty, I have instructed Mr. Hamilton, through my will, to stop the process and leave you with nothing.” I heard a deep sigh and exhalation of breath from the direction of Jason Stevens. Red continued. “Now, don’t forget, boy. If you turn out to be more trouble than you’re worth—which is not diﬃcult for you—Mr. Hamilton will simply cut you oﬀ without another word. “And, nally, to you, eodore J. Hamilton,” Red chuckled and continued. “I bet you didn’t think I remembered your real name, Ted. I want to thank you for undertaking this little salvage operation on my behalf with Jason. And I also want to thank you for being the best friend that any man ever had. I accumulated a lot of things in my life, but I would trade them all in an instant for the privilege I have of sitting here, right now, and being able to say that eodore J. Hamilton was my friend.” At that point, the video ended, and we all sat in silence. Finally, Jason turned to me and, in a belligerent tone, said, “at old man was crazy.” I sighed and replied, “Well, young man, it is certain that someone is crazy, and I think this little project is going to give us all the opportunity to nd out who that someone may be.” I stood and oﬀered my hand to Jason as I moved toward the door. He ignored my outstretched hand and said, “Wait a minute. What’s the deal here? Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on, and what I get?” “All in good time, young man,” I said to him over my shoulder as I walked out of the room. I could hear Jason’s angry voice as I retreated down the hall. “Why couldn’t he just leave me money like everybody else?” I could hear the calm voice of Miss Hastings reply, “He loved you too much to do that.” Three e Gift of Work He who loves his work never labors. I must say I was rather anxious during the ensuing weeks and very relieved when the rst day of the next month rolled around. I was sitting in my oﬃce working on other matters trying to keep my mind occupied and oﬀ of the fact that Jason Stevens would be arriving shortly. Finally, the buzzer on my telephone sounded, and Miss Hastings informed me that young Jason Stevens had arrived and was waiting in the conference room. I collected the appropriate les while Miss Hastings retrieved Red Stevens’ box from the vault. When we entered the conference room, we found Jason slumped back in a chair with his feet up on the conference table. I strode across the room and slid the box that Margaret had handed me onto the table in such a way as to knock Jason’s feet oﬀ of it. “Good morning, Jason,” I said. “I’m glad that you found a chair and are making yourself comfortable. Some people never have learned the proper use of furniture.” Jason dismissed my comment with a bored wave and replied, “Can we just get on with it here? I’ve got things to do and people to see.” I laughed aloud as I sat down and said, “Young man, I do anticipate you will have things to do and people to see, but it may not be exactly as you think.” I took another videotape from the box and handed it to Margaret. She placed it in the video player and, in a few moments, Red Stevens appeared on the large screen. He said, “Good morning, Ted, and to you, Miss Hastings. Once again, I want to thank you for undertaking this little chore. And, Jason, I want to remind you of the rules. If at any time during the next twelve months you do not perform as called for, or if Mr. Hamilton does not approve of your attitude and demeanor, he will simply stop the process and cut you oﬀ from my ultimate gift to you. “I will warn you about Mr. Hamilton. He may appear very patient and long-suﬀering, but, young man, if you push him too far, you will nd that you have let an angry tiger out of its cage.” Jason looked at me with a bewildered expression on his face. I simply stared back at him. Red paused and seemed to be remembering days gone by. “Jason, when I was much younger than you are now,” he continued, “I learned the satisfaction that comes from a simple four-letter word: work. One of the things my wealth has robbed from you and the entire family is the privilege and satisfaction that comes from doing an honest day’s work.” I could see Jason rolling his eyes as he let out a deep sigh. “Now, before you go oﬀ the deep end and reject everything I’m going to tell you,” Red continued, “I want you to realize that work has brought me everything I have and everything that you have. I regret that I have taken from you the joy of knowing that what you have is what you’ve earned. “My earliest memories in the swamps of Louisiana are of work—hard, backbreaking labor that as a young man I resented greatly. My parents had too many mouths to feed and not enough food, so if we wanted to eat, we worked. Later, when I was on my own and came to Texas, I realized that hard work had become a habit for me, and it has served as a true joy all the rest of my life. “Jason, you have enjoyed the best things that this world has to oﬀer. You have been everywhere, seen everything, and done everything. What you don’t understand is how much pleasure these things can bring you when you have earned them yourself, when leisure becomes a reward for hard work instead of a way to avoid work. “Tomorrow morning, you are going to take a little trip with Mr. Hamilton and Miss Hastings. You will be going to meet an old friend of mine on a ranch outside of Alpine, Texas. When I was young and struggling to stay alive during the Depression, I met Gus Caldwell. We learned the power of hard work then, and today there’s no one better to teach you this lesson than Gus. “I have already prepared a letter outlining this entire situation to be sent to Gus Caldwell. Mr. Hamilton has forwarded that letter to Alpine, Texas, and Gus Caldwell will be expecting you. “Please remember, if at any time you do not complete the activities outlined in my will, or if Mr. Hamilton is not pleased with your attitude, this endeavor will simply end, and you will forego the ultimate gift.” e screen went black. “is is ridiculous,” Jason shot at me angrily. I smiled and replied, “Yes, dealing with you can be trying, but there are some things you just do for friends like Red Stevens. I will see you at the airport at 6:45 in the morning.” Jason looked at me as if he were addressing an imbecile. “Didn’t they have any ights later in the day?” he asked. I replied with more patience than I felt, “Yes, but Mr. Caldwell—I think you will nd—is not one who wants to waste any time. See you tomorrow.” Jason left our oﬃce, and Miss Hastings made all of the necessary arrangements. e next morning, just as the airline attendant was preparing to close the door, a bleary-eyed Jason Stevens came running down the concourse. Miss Hastings handed the attendant the tickets for the three of us, and we boarded the plane. Miss Hastings and I took our assigned seats, which were the rst two on the right side of the aircraft in the rst-class section. Jason stood there with a confused expression on his face as there were no more seats in the rst-class cabin. He turned to me and asked, “Where’s my seat?” Miss Hastings responded to his question using her most eﬃcient tone, but I knew she was enjoying every moment of it when she said, “Oh, Mr. Stevens, you have been assigned seat 23F.” She handed Jason his ticket stub, and he stomped down the aisle toward the coach seating. When we got oﬀ the plane at the Midland-Odessa airport, Gus Caldwell was there to meet us. I had known Gus for years as a friend and associate of Red Stevens. We shared a mutual love of our lifetime friend. Gus shook my hand warmly with the callused grip of a man of thirty- ve instead of what I knew must be his real age of seventy- ve. He greeted Miss Hastings politely but was somewhat gruﬀ with Jason. He said to him, “Red Stevens was one of the best men I ever met. I don’t see how you’re going to live up to that.” As Jason was preparing to protest this cold greeting, Gus shot back at him, “Son, why don’t you go downstairs and see if you can nd the luggage. Make yourself useful.” A few moments later, we were downstairs in the airport, and Jason had, indeed, located all of the luggage. Gus pulled around the parking lot to pick us up at the door in his deluxe pickup truck—a vehicle we rarely see in Boston. Gus held the door for Miss Hastings and me and said to Jason, “Well, don’t just stand there, boy. Get these bags in the truck.” Jason loaded all of the luggage in the bed of the pickup truck and then asked sheepishly, “Where am I supposed to sit?” “You can ride in the back or walk,” Gus said. “It’s all the same to me.” Gus got in and began to pull away just as Jason scrambled into the bed of the pickup truck. I glanced back and saw him sprawled out among the luggage, rolling from side to side, as Gus summarily ignored all of the speed limit signs as we left the airport complex. During the ride out to Gus’ sprawling ranch, with Jason out of earshot, we discussed memories of Red and our desire to help Red redeem Jason Stevens. We agreed that Gus would spend the next four weeks communicating his version of the work ethic to Jason while Miss Hastings and I would leave the following day and spend several weeks in Austin, where I was to do some legislative work for another client. After traversing what seemed to be an endless gravel road, we turned into a driveway that led oﬀ into the distance. A sign read: Gus Caldwell Ranch. Friends are welcome. Trespassers will be shot. After another ten-minute drive, we arrived at a huge ranch house where we were greeted by Gus’ extended family, several of his workers, and a number of dogs. Gus led Miss Hastings and me into his comfortable home and yelled back at Jason, “Don’t just lie there in the truck, boy. Get the bags.” Gus had informed Miss Hastings and me that the next day would start early at the Caldwell ranch. He decided to let Jason nd out the hard way. e next morning, Miss Hastings and I, and all of the Caldwell family, enjoyed a huge breakfast of monumental cholesterol before 6:00 a.m. As we were enjoying our second cups of coﬀee, Gus said, “Well, I better go get Sleeping Beauty. is is going to be an interesting day. Real educational, if you know what I mean.” We could hear Gus climbing the stairs and banging open the door to Jason’s room. He called out in a thunderous voice, “Boy, are you alive? You’re sleeping through the whole day, here. Get dressed and get downstairs.” Gus rejoined us as we chatted amiably over the strong coﬀee, and a few minutes later, a disheveled, sleepy-eyed Jason joined us. He sat down at the table. No sooner was he seated than Gus rose and said, “Well, that was a good breakfast. Time to get to work.” Jason glared at him and said belligerently, “Can I have some breakfast, please?” Gus smiled and said, “Yes, sir. First thing tomorrow morning. Nobody ever leaves Gus Caldwell’s home hungry. But there’s not much I can do if people are going to sleep all day.” Jason looked out the window and exclaimed, “It’s not even daylight yet.” Gus chuckled and replied, “at’s very observant, son. I thought I was going to have to teach you everything. Now get out to the bunkhouse and see if you can nd some work clothes. at’s about the most worthless get-up you have on there I’ve ever seen. We’ll be leaving in about ve minutes.” Gus agreed to take Miss Hastings and me out to where Jason would be working to see him get started before we left for Austin. We were seated in the truck when Jason stumbled out of the bunkhouse and dutifully climbed into the back of the pickup truck. Before he was seated, Gus shot out across the yard and drove through a gate, bouncing out across an immense eld. Just as the sun was rising, Gus stopped at a remote corner of the ranch where a huge pile of fence posts lay on the ground. Gus jumped out of the truck and yelled, “Boy, would you get out of that pickup bed. I’ve never seen one for lyin’ around like you.” Miss Hastings and I followed Gus and Jason to the last fence post standing in a long line that stretched out of sight. “Welcome to Fence Post 101,” Gus proclaimed proudly. He quickly showed Jason how to dig a post hole, set the post, and string the wire in a straight line. Even at seventy- ve, Gus Caldwell showed immense strength and incredible stamina. He made everything look easy. He turned to Jason and said, “Now, you try.” And Gus joined Miss Hastings and me near the truck. Jason stumbled through the process almost comically, and Gus called out, “Well, hopefully you’ll get the hang of it before you beat yourself to death. Somebody will come by to pick you up for the noon meal.” Jason seemed alarmed and called out, “How far is this fence supposed to go?” As Gus helped Miss Hastings and me into the truck, Gus laughed and said, “No more than a mile, and then we’ll turn and go the other way. Don’t worry. We won’t run out of things for you to do. I wish I had a dollar for every post hole good old Red Stevens and I dug all across Texas.” We left Jason there to his labors. Almost four weeks later, Miss Hastings and I returned from a successful trip to the Texas state capitol in Austin. Gus, once again, picked us up at the airport, and as we were driving to his ranch, I couldn’t help but ask, “Well, how is young Jason getting along?” Gus chuckled and said, “I wasn’t sure he was going to make it. Between the sunburn, blisters, and heat exhaustion, it was a close thing, but I think you are in for a pleasant surprise.” When we reached the ranch, Gus drove us directly to the eld where Jason had been working the rst day. I noticed that the fence extended far beyond its original point, and Jason was nowhere in sight. Gus drove on a distance, and once we crested a short rise, I spotted Jason in the distance. An amazing transformation had taken place. Jason was browned by the sun, lean from his physical labor, and working steadily as we arrived. He waved to us and walked over to join us as we got out of the truck. “Jason, did you dig all of those post holes and set all of those posts yourself?” I asked. He seemed to have a gleam in his eye as he answered, “Yes, sir. Every one of them. And they’re straight, too.” Gus put his arm around Jason’s shoulder and said, “Son, I wasn’t sure you were going to make it, but you turned into a really good hand. Your great- uncle, Red, and I discovered nearly sixty years ago that if you can do this kind of work with pride and quality, then you can do anything. I think you’ve learned your lesson. Now it’s time to get you back to Boston.” I was shocked when Jason replied, “I only have a few more to nish up this section. Why don’t we leave in the morning?” e next day, after breakfast, Gus volunteered to drive us to the airport. Jason dutifully carried the bags out onto the porch, but instead of the pickup truck, Gus was driving a new Cadillac. Jason laughed and asked, “Where’s your truck, Mr. Caldwell?” Gus smiled and replied, “I can’t have one of my best hands rolling around in the back of the truck with the luggage. Now let’s get you to the airport.” As we ew 30,000 feet above middle America, I couldn’t help but think of Red Stevens and the lesson on work he had taught Jason. I hoped the lesson meant as much to Jason as it did to me. Four e Gift of Money Money is nothing more than a tool. It can be a force for good, a force for evil, or simply be idle. There are certain times in this life that you nd yourself pursuing a course that you are not certain will prove to be fruitful. en, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, miraculously you receive the smallest sign or indication that you’re on the right track. Just such a moment occurred when Jason Stevens came in for our second monthly meeting. Jason and I were seated in our customary spots in the conference room discussing his work experience in Alpine, Texas. Miss Hastings returned from the vault carrying Red Stevens’ box. With no prompting or forewarning, Jason got out of his chair and helped Miss Hastings by taking the box from her and carrying it to the end of the table. To most people, this, in and of itself, would seem like nothing—or at most an extremely small thing. However, I recognized how Jason had been raised and that he had always taken such minor courtesies for granted. I chose to look upon this incident, even if small, as a positive sign. Red Stevens stared back at us from the large screen. He had a bit of a mischievous grin on his face which I suspect came from his private thoughts about Jason’s work experience on Gus Caldwell’s ranch. His voice boomed out, “Well, Jason, welcome back from the Garden of Eden—better known as Texas. Since I am talking to you now, I will assume you survived a month with Gus Caldwell. I always found that soaking blistered hands helped.” I actually heard Jason let out what might be described as a brief chuckle. Red continued. “Today, we are going to talk about what may, indeed, be the most misunderstood commodity in the world. at is, money. ere is absolutely nothing that can replace money in the things that money does, but regarding the rest of the things in the world, money is absolutely useless. “For example, all the money in the world won’t buy you one more day of life. at’s why you’re watching this videotape right now. And it’s important to realize that money will not make you happy. I hasten to add that poverty will not make you happy either. I have been rich, and I have been poor—and all other things being equal—rich is better.” At that, we all laughed. Red took on a more serious expression and continued. “Jason, you have no idea or concept of the value of money. at is not your fault. at is my fault. But I am hoping in the next thirty days, you can begin to understand what money means in the lives of real people in the real world. More of the violence, anxiety, divorce, and mistrust in the world is caused by misunderstanding money than any other factor. ese are concepts that are foreign to you because money to you has always seemed like the air you breathe. ere’s always more. All you have to do is take the next breath. “I know that you have always ashed around a lot of money and spent it frivolously. I take the responsibility for this situation because I deprived you of the privilege of understanding the fair exchange between work and money. “Last month, you began to get just an inkling of the pride and satisfaction that can come from doing a good job even at the most menial task. Since money is the result of most people’s labor, I think you need to begin to understand it. “If Gus Caldwell had paid you for the work you performed last month, you would have earned approximately $1,500. I know that it seems like almost nothing to you, but I can assure you it is the going rate. “When you leave today, Mr. Hamilton will hand you an envelope that is inside the box. e envelope contains $1,500. During the next month, I want you to go out and nd ve diﬀerent people who are in situations where a portion of that $1,500 can make a real diﬀerence in their lives. I want you to notice how anxiety caused by a lack of money is aﬀecting them in real ways, and how once you give them the money, they can focus on real and important issues in their world. “I realize that in the past you have probably blown $1,500 in a few hours with some of your so-called friends. Now it’s time to begin understanding what $1,500 can do if it’s put in the right place. “By the end of this month, you will report ve such instances to Mr. Hamilton, describing each situation and what you did about it. If Mr. Hamilton feels you have learned the lesson of the gift of money, I will talk with you next month.” Red’s image faded from the video screen, and we sat in silence for a few moments. Jason turned to me and said, “I’m not sure I understand what it is I’m supposed to do. Where do I nd these people, and how much—” I interrupted him by explaining, “Young man, you heard your instructions just as I did. I am not authorized to give you any additional information or assistance. is lesson, like all of the others your great-uncle is trying to teach you, is one you must learn primarily yourself. I can assure you that Red Stevens was a thorough man, and he has given you everything you need to succeed.” I reached into the box and took out a small envelope just as Red had described. I handed the envelope to Jason and said, “We will look forward to hearing from you on or before the end of the month.” Jason rose slowly with a bewildered expression on his face. He turned and slowly retreated to the door. Miss Hastings and I remained in the conference room for several minutes. Finally, she broke the silence. “I don’t think he has any concept of what to do with that envelope full of money.” I thought for a moment and then replied, “Most of us have learned about money over a number of years. Jason has been absent from school, and he has a lot of catching up to do.” It was the next to the last day of the month before we heard from Jason, and I will admit to being a bit anxious about his progress. Jason arranged an appointment for the next morning. At the appointed hour, Miss Hastings ushered him into my oﬃce, and he and Miss Hastings sat in the two leather chairs in front of my desk. Jason seemed a bit nervous and uncertain of himself. I paused for a few moments, thinking about what I might have done had I been given one month to nd ve people whose lives I could aﬀect with money. I resigned myself to performing my tasks as Red Stevens’ attorney and the executor of his estate. I knew that if Jason had not lived up to the letter of the agreement, I would have to end the journey at that point. at was a prospect that did not appeal to me for Jason’s sake and, I must admit, for my own as well. Finally, I turned to Jason and asked, “Well, young man, are you prepared to present your report?” Jason nodded and drew a piece of crumpled paper from his inside jacket pocket. He cleared his throat and began to speak slowly. “Well, I’m not quite sure if this is right, but here goes. “First, I was driving late one evening and passed one of those fund-raising car washes people hold in parking lots. It was nearly dark, so I knew they were about done for the day. I asked the man in charge what group this was and how they were doing. He told me that it was a group of inner-city Boy Scouts who were trying to raise the money to go to their Jamboree the following week. He went on to explain that it had been a bit disappointing because this was their last eﬀort, and since they were a bit short, at least one or two of the boys were not going to be able to go. I asked him how much they needed to reach their goal. He seemed discouraged when he replied that they were almost $200 short, and they were going to have to clear the lot within ten minutes. I pulled my car into the space designated and told the boys to do their best job. When they were done, I handed one of the boys $200 and drove away.” Jason looked up at me seeking approval. I merely nodded for him to continue. Although he was still shaky, he seemed to be gaining momentum as he consulted his sheet. “Next, I found myself at the mall looking for a parking space. I spotted a young woman holding a baby, standing in front of an old car, and shouting at a guy driving a tow truck parked behind her. e two seemed to be really arguing, and since they had one of the best parking spaces, I stopped and asked what the trouble was. e guy told me he worked for ABC Used Cars and that the girl had missed her last two payments. He told me that the payments were only $100 a month on an old junker like that. e girl began crying and said that her baby had been sick, and if she lost her car, she wouldn’t be able to keep her job, and then she didn’t know what would happen. I asked the tow truck driver how much the balance was on her car loan. He told me it was four more payments of $100 each. I gave him $400 and got a paid-in-full receipt for the young mother. Here’s a copy.” Jason dropped a soiled and creased receipt on the edge of my desk, and then he pressed on. “While I was in the mall, I discovered a young husband and wife with two small children shopping in a toy store. Each of the children repeatedly asked for various toys, but their parents regrettably told them that Santa Claus probably wouldn’t come this year since their father had lost his job. While the children were at the end of another aisle looking at some stuﬀed animals, I handed the mother $300 and asked her to be sure that Santa made it to their house this year. “As I was leaving the mall, I noticed an old woman sitting on a bench. As I passed, she dropped her purse, and when I picked it up to hand it back to her, I noticed that she had been crying. When I asked her what the problem was, she told me that her husband, Harold, and she had been married fty-seven years and, for the rst time in their lives, they just couldn’t make it. His heart pills cost over $60 a month, and the pharmacy in the mall wouldn’t take her food stamps for the medicine. I spent $200 buying a three-month supply of Harold’s heart medication and leaving her $20 to take him out for his favorite lunch.” Jason looked at me expectantly, and I smiled at him and said, “It sounds good so far, but you were instructed to nd ve examples.” Jason appeared more nervous than ever as he explained, “While driving one day, I discovered a car broken down at the side of the road. I got out and met a young man named Brian. He’s about my age, and we found we have a lot in common. I used my cell phone to call a tow truck, and they towed him into a garage. e mechanic said the engine in the car was really shot and needed to be replaced. “Brian was totally panicked because he needed the car to get back and forth to school and work. e mechanic said it would cost $700. Brian nearly went into shock because he didn’t have any money, so I gave him the $700 he needed to get a new engine.” Ever eﬃcient Miss Hastings seemed to have an emotional quiver in her voice as she said, “Sir, that seems to add up to $1,800. I believe the original document called for only $1,500.” Jason seemed alarmed as he leaned forward in his chair and said, “Well, I put in $300 of my own money. Is that okay?” Miss Hastings beat me to the punch and replied, “Of course, it’s okay. Mr. Hamilton is a fair and reasonable man.” She glared at me and said, “Aren’t you, Mr. Hamilton?” I assured both Jason and the indomitable Miss Hastings that I was fair and reasonable, and Jason had learned an important lesson in the value of money. I hoped he would never forget his lesson. I knew I never would. Five e Gift of Friends It is a wealthy person, indeed, who calculates riches not in gold but in friends. The next morning, Miss Hastings let me know that Jason Stevens had arrived and would be waiting in the conference room. After his successful journey into the realm of work and money, I had hoped that his sullen attitude would have improved; however, upon entering the conference room, I rapidly discovered this was not the case. Before I could even sit down, he started in on me. “Look. Why do I have to go through all this stuﬀ? is is ridiculous. You have a copy of the will. You must know what it is that I’m going to inherit. Why don’t we just cut through all the garbage and get down to the bottom line?” I smiled at him and said, “Good morning, Jason. It’s nice to see you, too. I had hoped after your great-uncle’s lesson in money, you would be more understanding of this process.” I rose to my feet slowly—which is not unusual when you’re eighty years old. I gave him a stare that I had used successfully during my years as a judge. “Young man,” I said, “you have two—and only two—options. You can go through this process the way Red Stevens laid it out for you, or you can quit right now; but I will tell you one thing, your attitude is putting you dangerously close to losing the ultimate gift that your great-uncle planned for you.” Jason leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Okay, let’s get on with it,” he said. “What’s next?” Miss Hastings brought in the box and set it on the table next to me. I took out the next videotape, and Miss Hastings started the VCR. Once again Red Stevens appeared and began to speak. “Jason, as you heard me tell Mr. Hamilton at your rst meeting, he is quite simply my best friend. Friend is a word that is thrown around far too easily by people who don’t know the meaning of it. Today, people call everyone they know their friend. Young man, you’re lucky if you live as long as I have and can count your real friends on the ngers of both hands. “I am now going to share a story with you, Jason, that I promised I would never tell as long as I lived. Since you are watching this after my death, and in the presence of the one whom I promised, I feel comfortable sharing it. As you know, I lived past my seventy- fth birthday and enjoyed what to most people was a long and healthy life. But this was not always a sure thing. “I remember when I had just turned thirty-eight years old and was hospitalized with an extreme fever. e doctors weren’t sure what was wrong with me, so they brought in every specialist from across the country. Finally, I was diagnosed as having a rare kidney disease which was incurable. e only hope they gave me was a new procedure called a kidney transplant. “You’ve got to realize that this was unheard of at that time, and donors were not readily available as they are today. I called Mr. Hamilton, who has always acted as my attorney, and told him we would need to start a nationwide search to nd me a kidney. I was very frightened because the specialist had told me that without the transplant I might not have more than a few weeks. You can imagine my relief when Mr. Hamilton called me two days later and told me he had located a kidney on the East Coast. “Well, as I’m sure you can guess, the operation was a success and gave me back over half of my adult life. What I’m sure you couldn’t guess, and what no one has known until now, is that the kidney that Mr. Hamilton found was his own.” Red paused on the videotape to take a drink of water, and young Jason Stevens stared at me in disbelief. On the big screen, Red continued. “ere’s only one way in the world to explain something like that, and it’s called friendship. Now, Jason, I know you think you have a lot of friends. But the reality is, you have a lot of people who simply want your money or the things it will buy. Except for your time with Gus Caldwell, you’ve never worked a day in your life nor done anything I would call productive. But you have been the life of the party and an easy touch for a lot of weak hangers-on you casually call friends. “During the next thirty days, I want you to spend a lot of time thinking and observing. I want you to nd what you feel to be the principles that underlie true friendship, and I want you to be able to report to Mr. Hamilton an example of true friendship that demonstrates your principles. Jason, you will never do anything in your life that will bring more quality to your existence than growing to understand and nurture friendship.” e videotape ended, and Jason seemed to be deep in thought. Finally, he blurted out, “I don’t understand. I mean—” I interrupted him. “I know you don’t understand. at’s the whole point. I only hope that you will remember your great-uncle’s words and, for your sake, by the end of the month you are at least beginning to understand. I will look forward to your report.” I walked out of the conference room, leaving young Jason Stevens to his assignment. On the last day of the month, Miss Hastings called into my oﬃce to let me know that Jason had set up an appointment and would be arriving within the hour. I sat back and thought about my lifelong friend, Red Stevens. I wasn’t sure how you could teach someone the depth to which a friendship could grow, especially if the person had never experienced it himself. I will admit to feeling a great sense of doubt and foreboding as I considered Jason’s prospects of succeeding in the task Red Stevens had given him. As we gathered around the conference table, Miss Hastings and I were quiet. Both of us were observing Jason’s expression and manner. He seemed to have a lot on his mind. He gave us each a perfunctory greeting and muttered, “I hope that... well, I mean... I just don’t—” Miss Hastings stopped him by saying, “I believe our agenda today involved your report to Mr. Hamilton on your progress with respect to understanding friendship.” Jason looked at me doubtfully, and I nodded and gave him a brief smile of encouragement. He began. “I thought a lot about friendship this month, and I tried to come up with the principles that de ne friendship. e best I can do is to say that friendship involves loyalty, commitment, and a process that includes sharing another person’s life. It even goes deeper than that, but it’s hard to put into words. “e best example of friendship I can give to demonstrate my principles is a story that Gus Caldwell told me when I was working for him in Texas. He explained that when he and Uncle Red got started in the cattle business, they had ranches several miles apart, but they and several other ranchers all shared the same range. Each spring, all the ranchers would have what they call a roundup, which apparently involved collecting and branding all of the new calves, called yearlings, which had been born since the last roundup. “As Mr. Caldwell explained it to me, the young calves simply follow their mothers wherever they go, so as the cattle are collected, representatives from each ranch are present to brand each new calf with the same brand as its mother’s. “Well, it seems that early on, Mr. Caldwell was very concerned that Uncle Red wasn’t going to make it as a rancher. So, during the roundup one year, Gus simply branded a number of calves that should have been his own with Uncle Red’s brand. He told me that he gured that he had been able to give over thirty calves to Uncle Red through that process. “But at the end of the roundup, when Gus performed what is called a tally, which is simply counting all the cattle with his brand, he found that instead of being thirty calves short as he thought he should, he actually had almost fty more than he started with. “He was confused about that incident for many years until, while Mr. Caldwell and Uncle Red were on a shing trip, Uncle Red told Gus that when they rst got started, he had been worried about Gus making it in the business. Since he didn’t want to lose his best friend and neighbor, he had actually branded a bunch of his calves with Gus Caldwell’s brand.” Jason paused and glanced at both Miss Hastings and me for any sign of approval. He continued. “at story that Mr. Caldwell told me about my Uncle Red best describes how I understand each of the elements of friendship. I know it takes many years to build a friendship like that, but I think somehow it must be worth it. “As you know, last month I met Brian when his car broke down at the side of the road. I helped him get a new engine for it, and since then we have done several things together, and I hope that someday we can be friends like Gus Caldwell and my Uncle Red.” Jason looked directly into my eyes and said, “And I hope I can be as good a friend as you were to Red Stevens.” I smiled at him and said, “In my best judgment, you have begun your lifetime lesson in friendship. e only thing I can tell you is that any eﬀort you put into a friendship is always returned manyfold.” I thanked Jason for sharing the story about Red Stevens and Gus Caldwell. I had known for half a century that they were both great men and great friends. Jason’s story, passed to him by Gus Caldwell, was just one more example of great friendship. Miss Hastings walked Jason out of the conference room, leaving me alone with my memories. As I sat back in my chair and remembered my lifelong friend, Red Stevens, I re ected that our friendship had begun simply and without either of us understanding what our relationship would grow to be. Jason had learned the beginnings of how to be a friend, and I hoped that his new friendship would blossom into a lifelong treasure giving him as much pleasure as Red Stevens and I had enjoyed. Six e Gift of Learning Education is a lifelong journey whose destination expands as you travel. Red Stevens’ bequest to his great-nephew, Jason, represented the most unusual and, potentially, the most important matter I had ever handled for a client or a friend. As we entered the fourth month of our one-year journey with Jason, I wasn’t sure how much progress we were making. He had shown many signs of improvement, but his belligerent, arrogant, and sel sh attitude—borne of a life of idle privilege—still showed through from time to time. As we began our monthly ritual around the conference room table, he interrupted the proceedings before Miss Hastings could even start the videotape. “Look, I have done everything you have said up to this point, and this has all been well and good, but I need to have some idea of where we are going here and what I get at the end of all of this. I can’t just waste a year out of my life.” I stared at Jason for several moments and tried to think of what Red would want me to say. Finally, I responded. “Jason, it seems to me that your entire life to date has been a series of wasted years. I don’t see how this one-year acquiescence to your great-uncle’s will could do anything but improve your track record; however, you do have the option to stop this process at any point in time.” He red back at me, “Can’t you just give me some idea of what I am going to get out of this so I can decide if it’s all worth it?” I gave him my courtroom stare and stated, “Young man, I am bound by honor, duty, and friendship to perform each step of this process as directed by Red Stevens. I have no option in the matter. You, indeed, do have an option. Either you play or you don’t play, but if you’re going to play, you’re going to play by the rules. Is there any part of that you don’t understand?” Jason and I locked eyes, and we were in a staring contest that represented a test of wills. Unfortunately for him, my will had been tested many, many times over eighty years, and his was only just now being tested due to the love and concern of Red Stevens. He nally looked away and mumbled, “Okay, let’s play the video.” Red Stevens appeared on the screen and seemed to display a bit more intensity than before. It seemed that as we cleared each hurdle, the one before us seemed to take on more importance and signi cance. Red began. “Jason, the next element of the gift I am trying to leave to you encompasses knowledge and learning. As you know, I never had the bene t of a formal education, and I realize that you have some kind of degree from that high-toned college we sent you to that is little more than a playground for the idle rich.” Jason leaned back in his chair, slammed his st onto the table, and blew out a long stream of air. Red continued. “Now, before you get your feelings all hurt, I want you to realize that I respect universities as well as any type of formal education. It just wasn’t a part of my life. What was a part of my life was a constant curiosity and desire to learn everything I could about the people and world around me. I wasn’t able to go to school very long after I learned to read, but the ability to read, think, and observe made me a relatively well-educated man. “But learning is a process. You can’t simply sit in a classroom and someday walk oﬀstage with a sheepskin and call yourself educated. I believe the reason a graduation ceremony is called a commencement is because the process of learning begins—or commences—at that point. e schooling that went before simply provided the tools and the framework for the real lessons to come. “In the nal analysis, Jason, life—when lived on your own terms—is the ultimate teacher. My wealth and success have robbed you of that, and this is my best eﬀort to repair the damage.” Red paused for a few seconds, collected his thoughts, and continued. “Jason, you are going to be going on a little trip. Mr. Hamilton and Miss Hastings will be accompanying you. Your destination will be the greatest source of learning I ever discovered. If you will keep an open mind, you will nd the key to the gift of learning that will serve you all the days of your life. “After one month in this great place of learning, you must be able to explain to Mr. Hamilton—to his satisfaction—the fundamental key to all learning, education, and knowledge. Mr. Hamilton has all of the details and will give them to you as you need them. I wish you well.” Miss Hastings got up to retrieve the videotape as Jason asked in a bored but resigned tone, “Where do we have to go, and what do we have to do?” As I stood and started walking out of the room, I said, “Jason, we don’t have to go anywhere or do anything. We can stop this process right now, but if you want to continue, be at the airport, Gate 27, at seven in the morning. Bring your passport, some summer clothes, and a good attitude.” e next morning, we actually met Jason—luggage in hand—crossing the long-term parking lot outside of the airport. I called to him, “Jason—good morning. I’m surprised to see you here a half-hour before the plane leaves.” He laughed and said, “I thought I’d try to catch one without running a hundred-yard dash and squeezing in as they close the door.” Miss Hastings took my arm as we crossed the driveway toward the terminal. She whispered to me, “It may be small and slow, but it does seem to be progress, indeed.” Jason caught up with us and asked, “So, where are we going?” I smiled at him and replied, “South America.” Jason stopped in his tracks and asked, “What university or graduate school is located in South America?” Miss Hastings responded to his question cheerily, “I’m quite certain you have never heard of it.” ree ights later, we found ourselves in a rickety taxi, winding along a dirt road with dense jungle on either side. Eventually, we arrived at a dusty village with dirt streets and a few dilapidated buildings running along the edge of the jungle. e taxi stopped in front of the largest building on the street, and we got out and retrieved our luggage. As the taxi drove oﬀ in a cloud of dust, Jason asked incredulously, “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” I laughed and replied, “Education and learning are where you nd them.” We got settled into our three rooms in the modest but surprisingly comfortable hotel and agreed to meet in the lobby for breakfast the next day. I was very tired and fended oﬀ each of Jason’s queries by simply telling him that the lesson would begin in the morning. With the hectic day of travel behind me, I slept well and met Miss Hastings in the lobby, where she had already procured a table for us at the edge of what passed for a dining room. Several moments later, Jason arrived, and we ate a quick and simple breakfast. As I got up from the table, I said, “Jason, we’re going to walk down to the end of this street. ere’s a building there where your education will begin.” Jason stood and sighed, saying, “I’ve come this far. I may as well see what my crazy great-uncle had in mind.” As we walked along the dusty street, the three of us must have made quite a conspicuous sight, as many of the local residents came out to look at us. ere were many simple wood and sheet-metal structures, and as we got to the end of the street, the last building on the left was slightly larger and more modern than the rest. A sign over the door in both Spanish and English read, Howard “Red” Stevens Library. When Jason spotted the name, he began to laugh and asked, “What is going on?” As I climbed the three steps and opened the door, I said, “I think you’ll nd out what you need to know inside.” We entered the library and were greeted by a pleasant young woman at the counter. She spoke English very well as she greeted us and said, “I assume you are Mr. Hamilton and Miss Hastings.” I nodded yes, and her eyes brightened as she looked at Jason and exclaimed, “You must be Jason Stevens. We are very proud to have you here. Señor Red Stevens was a great man who helped all the people in our village.” I cleared my throat and said, “Jason, for the next four weeks, you will be assisting the librarian in her duties. You will have everything you need here to learn the lesson that your great-uncle wants you to learn.” Jason raised his voice louder than necessary and stated, “I may not have done well in school or learned much in college, but I can’t believe that there is anything to be learned in this tiny place that I haven’t had access to before.” Jason turned a complete circle as he surveyed the one-room library. “is place is made up mostly of empty shelves. ere’s only a handful of books here,” he observed. e librarian smiled and explained, “All of the books are being read by people in our village and for miles around. Your great-uncle told us when he gave us this library that books don’t do any good sitting on the shelf.” I told Jason that Miss Hastings and I would be leaving him to his work, but we would be checking in on him daily. Over the next four weeks, I slipped into the pleasant lifestyle of the village. Miss Hastings and I took several side trips and had ample opportunities for sightseeing and the collection of native artwork. e people were all friendly and pleasant, especially as they learned that I represented their late, great benefactor Red Stevens. As we checked on Jason each day, we discovered he was actually going about his task with more energy and diligence than I had expected. He became pro cient at getting the books checked in and checked out rapidly, and he would often converse with the library patrons about the books that they had read. As the last day of our scheduled trip arrived, I almost hated to leave the pleasant village. Everyone came onto the street to wish us well, and we departed in what seemed to be the same cab in which we had arrived. After a hard day of traveling, we found ourselves back at the Boston airport, where we collected our luggage and walked toward the parking lot. Jason hurried a few steps in front of us, turned to block our path, and said, “Hold it right here. I did everything that you said, I worked hard in the library, and I looked at every book they had in that dinky little place. ere was nothing new to be learned there. e only thing that I found out is that there are good and simple people who will get up hours before daylight and will walk many miles along mountain trails to get a tattered old copy of a book. e only thing I can honestly say I know now that I didn’t know when we left here four weeks ago is that the desire and hunger for education is the key to real learning.” As Miss Hastings and I stepped around either side of Jason and moved toward the car, I called over my shoulder, “Congratulations, young man. I will see you in the oﬃce on Monday, and we will discover where we go from here.” Miss Hastings and I got our luggage into the trunk of the car, and as we drove through the exit of the airport parking lot, I could still see Jason rooted in the same place—no doubt thinking about the lesson we had all learned. Seven e Gift of Problems Problems can only be avoided by exercising good judgment. Good judgment can only be gained by experiencing life’s problems. I will admit to having a sense of anticipation the following Monday as I contemplated the possible direction of the next act in Jason Stevens’ life drama. I marveled at how my oldest and dearest friend, Red Stevens, could reach out from beyond the grave to impact a young life. At the appointed hour, Miss Hastings ushered Jason into the conference room and summoned me to our monthly encounter with destiny. Jason seemed to be more mature and con dent than he had been just four short months earlier. He actually greeted both Miss Hastings and me as we began the next phase of our odyssey. e image of Red Stevens materialized onto the large screen. He gave Jason his customary congratulatory salute for passing the gift of learning milestone. Red began in earnest. “Jason, life is full of many contradictions. In fact, the longer you live, the more the reality of life will seem like one great paradox. But if you live long enough and search hard enough, you will nd a miraculous order to the confusion. “All of the lessons I am trying to teach you as a part of the ultimate gift I am leaving you through my will are generally learned as people go through their lives facing struggles and problems. Any challenge that does not defeat us ultimately strengthens us. “One of the great errors in my life was sheltering so many people— including you—from life’s problems. Out of a misguided sense of concern for your well-being, I actually took away your ability to handle life’s problems by removing them from your environment. “Unfortunately, human beings cannot live in a vacuum forever. A bird must struggle in order to emerge from the eggshell. A well-meaning person might crack open the egg, releasing the baby bird. is person might walk away feeling as though he has done the bird a wonderful service when, in fact, he has left the bird in a weakened condition and unable to deal with its environment. Instead of helping the bird, the person has, in fact, destroyed it. It is only a matter of time until something in the bird’s environment attacks it, and the bird has no ability to deal with what otherwise would be a manageable problem. “If we are not allowed to deal with small problems, we will be destroyed by slightly larger ones. When we come to understand this fact, we live our lives not avoiding problems, but welcoming them as challenges that will strengthen us so that we can be victorious in the future.” Red Stevens paused and stared directly into the camera in a way that let us all know his conviction was borne through a life of experience in dealing with problems. Red continued. “Jason, I cannot turn back the clock and allow you to deal with each of the problems in the past that I eliminated from your life when I should have given you the opportunity to deal with them yourself. If I could take us both back in time, I would, but now I am left with trying to teach you the value of problems, struggles, and obstacles. “Since you have not had any experience in this area, you will have to learn quickly. ere are problems heading your way that you are not prepared for. During the next thirty days, you will begin the preparation. “is month, I want you to go out and nd people with problems in each stage of life. I want you to nd a child, a young adult, a full-grown adult, and an older person—each of whom is experiencing a profound problem. Not only are you to nd these four individuals, but you must be able to describe to Mr. Hamilton the bene t or the lesson that is derived from each speci c situation. “When we can learn from our own problems, we begin to deal with life. When we can learn from other people’s problems, we begin to master life. “I wish you well, and I hope to talk with you again next month.” Even though the video had ended, Jason continued staring at the blank screen. He rose slowly and walked toward the door. As he opened it, he paused, turned back toward Miss Hastings and me, and said, “I will do my best and call you later.” en he closed the door behind him. Miss Hastings turned to me and said, “e process seems to be beginning to work. I am detecting a shift in his attitude. What do you think?” “I hope you’re right,” I responded, “because I have a feeling the road gets steeper the farther we go.” Once again I found myself waiting for Jason’s call and hoping he was faring well. I felt the same way I did the rst day I sent my son oﬀ to kindergarten. With three days left in the month, Jason nally called and set up an appointment with Miss Hastings for the following morning. Miss Hastings told me he had sounded very worried and unsure of himself. All I could do was hope for the best. e following morning at the appointed hour, Miss Hastings ushered Jason into my oﬃce, got him seated, and pulled up a chair for herself. Jason sat silently, and as I looked at him, I had to admit he did seem very quiet and a bit apprehensive. Finally, I said, “Well, Jason, it’s good to see you again. I assume you have a report on your progress.” Jason glanced up at me and said, “I think I do.” He stared down at his hands, which were folded in his lap, and after a long pause, he slowly began. “Well, I knew I had to nd people with problems from the four age groups. So I started by looking for a child. After almost two weeks —during which I was unable to nd anything—I was so frustrated one afternoon, I just went for a walk in the park. “I was feeling sorry for myself and considering that after all this work I was going to lose my inheritance and whatever this ultimate gift is that my Uncle Red has for me. “Finally, I sat at the end of a bench, and I noticed at the other end of the bench there was a young woman watching a little girl playing on the swing. e woman told me she thought the little girl was really amazing, and in my depressed condition, I was not as kind with her as I should have been because I told her that I didn’t see anything amazing about her six- or seven-year-old daughter playing on a swing set. “She told me, ‘First of all, I’m not her mother, although I wish I were. Second, she’s probably the most amazing person I have ever seen in my life. I am a volunteer at St. Catherine’s Hospital. I work in a program where we try to grant special wishes for terminal patients. Emily has a rare form of cancer. She has been through countless operations and has spent probably half her life in hospitals dealing with great pain. When we told her that we could try to make a special wish of hers come true, she said she would like a fun day in the park. We told her that many kids went to Disney World or ball games or the beach, but she just smiled and said, ‘at’s very nice, but I’d just like to have a fun day in the park.’” “is woman went on to tell me that Emily had touched everyone in the hospital and had made a real diﬀerence in everyone’s life. About that time, Emily stopped swinging and slowly walked across the grass and sat between the two of us on the bench. She turned to me with a smile I’ll never forget and told me that her name was Emily and that this was her special day in the park. She asked me if this was my special day in the park too. I told her that I didn’t think it was, and she laughed and told me that I could share hers with her. “So, Mr. Hamilton, I spent the rest of the day in the playground with Emily. I realized that she has more courage and joy in her little seven-year-old body than any normal human being could possibly have. “At the end of the day, she was very tired, and the young lady from the hospital had to take her away in a wheelchair. But, before Emily left, she told me that when she got back to the hospital, she would talk to the nurses and see if they could arrange for me to have a special day in the park too.” Jason paused and looked directly at me. He had a tear in his eye, and I must admit I was ghting to control my composure as well. Miss Hastings retrieved a box of tissues and said something about her seasonal allergies. We all sat in silence and thought about a young girl whose problem could aﬀect us so profoundly. Finally, Jason cleared his throat, wiped his eye, and continued. “Later that week, I found a middle-aged man walking down the sidewalk in front of my house. He spotted me getting into my car, so he smiled and walked directly over to me. He stuck out his hand and told me his name was Bill Johnson and that my car was one of the most beautiful cars he had ever seen. He told me that he was in the neighborhood doing odd jobs for people and that it would be a privilege to wash a car like mine. “I asked him why he was out doing odd jobs, and he told me that through a series of corporate cutbacks, both he and his wife had lost their jobs and that they had three young children at home. Both he and his wife were doing anything they could to make ends meet. Apparently, they had gone through their savings, and they were making it just day to day on what they could pick up doing these jobs. I asked him what would happen if he didn’t get enough money, and he just smiled and told me that there was always enough, and that the problem had created some interesting situations for their family. ey were spending more time together than they had before, and their children had learned the value of money and work. “He chuckled as he recounted an incident the previous week when they had no food other than a little oatmeal. He said he was just about to give up when he heard his wife explaining to their children that many of the pioneers in the Old West went for days at a time eating nothing but oatmeal. He told me that their two youngest boys would probably want to eat only oatmeal from now on, no matter how much money they ever had.” Jason paused for several moments, searching for the right words, and then he continued, “He went on to tell me about all the wonderful things that he and his wife and family were learning and doing together. He washed my car, and I paid him what he asked. I tried to give him more, but he wouldn’t take it. “Before he left, I told him that I was sorry for his situation. He just laughed that amazing laugh of his and told me that he felt like he was the luckiest man on earth—that in the whole world, he couldn’t think of anyone he would want to trade places with.” Jason seemed deep in thought and nally said, “You know what’s funny, Mr. Hamilton? As he was telling me that there was no one in the world he would trade places with, I was thinking to myself that in a lot of ways I would love to trade places with him.” Miss Hastings supplied the three of us with glasses of water. Jason took a sip of his and resumed his report. “e next day, I was driving past the entrance to a cemetery, and I noticed the largest funeral procession I had ever seen. I didn’t think anything of it, and later that day I was passing back the same way, and out of curiosity, I thought I would drive through and ask one of the workers if it had been a celebrity or something. I drove through the cemetery, and the only person I could see was one very old man standing alone by a grave. Since the funeral procession I had seen had been several hours before, I assumed he was there on his own. “I got out of my car and approached the old gentleman. When he heard me walking up behind him, he turned in my direction. I told him I was sorry for interrupting him, but that earlier in the day when I was driving by, I had seen the largest funeral procession I had ever witnessed. I told him I was just wondering if he might have known if it was a celebrity or superstar or something. “He laughed softly and told me it had, indeed, been a celebrity and a superstar. He told me he knew that for a fact because he had lived with her for almost sixty years. Apparently, his wife had been a schoolteacher for forty years and had in uenced so many of her students that literally hundreds of them had come in from all parts of the country for her funeral. So, he felt that made her a celebrity and a superstar, both. “I told him I was sorry for disturbing him on what must be the worst day of his life. He just laughed that quiet laugh again and told me that his life would be diﬀerent, but that no one who lived sixty years with his Dorothy could ever have a bad day. ‘I was just standing here thanking Dorothy for everything she had done, and I had just promised her I wouldn’t let her down.’” Jason took another sip of his water, looked at both Miss Hastings and me, and continued. “at old man put his arm around my shoulder, and we walked out of the cemetery together. As I was getting in my car, he told me that if there was ever anything he could do for me that I was to call on him. I just sat in my car and watched him slowly drive away.” Jason seemed to have concluded his report at that point. I waited, but he did not continue, so I nally said, “Jason, you found a child who is living through one of the most diﬃcult problems anyone could face with a joy that it is hard for me to understand. You found a middle-aged man and his family who are dealing with nancial crisis while maintaining their sense of family and dignity. You found an older man who has taken a tragedy of death and turned it into a celebration of life. But, Jason, you were to have also found a young person with a problem.” Jason cleared his throat and nally resumed speaking. “Well, Mr. Hamilton, I know I was supposed to nd a young person, and during the month I found several possible candidates, but I have to admit to you today that I couldn’t nd any young person who has learned as much from their problem as I have from mine. I have lived my whole life in a sel sh and self-centered fashion. I never realized that real people have real problems. It always seemed that problems happened to people on the news or in the movies or something. “But, thanks to you and my Uncle Red, I nally realized that I have been sheltered from problems, and that I have never learned the wonderful lessons that the people I met this month are learning. I nally know that joy does not come from avoiding a problem or having someone else deal with it for you. Joy comes from overcoming a problem or simply learning to live with it while being joyful.” Miss Hastings’ allergies seemed to be acting up again at that moment, as she was dabbing at her eyes and nose. Finally, Jason asked, “Do you think it will be okay if I serve as one of the four people I was supposed to learn from this month?” I assured Jason that it met both the spirit and the letter of Red Stevens’ nal will and testament. Jason glanced at his watch and said, “If that’s all, I need to hurry to be at another appointment on time.” I told him that would be ne, and as Miss Hastings was showing him to the door, she asked, “Where are you rushing oﬀ to, Jason?” He said, “I have to meet a special friend in front of the swing set at the park. I will see you both tomorrow.” Eight e Gift of Family Some people are born into wonderful families. Others have to find or create them. Being a member of a family is a priceless privilege which costs nothing but love. The following day, Jason Stevens, Miss Hastings, and I gathered in the conference room for our monthly meeting which was becoming a welcomed ritual for me. We sat in our established places. I was lost in thoughts of what the next month might bring as Miss Hastings started the videotape. Red Stevens greeted Jason warmly. “Hello, and congratulations on learning to value the gift of problems. at lesson will serve you well all the days of your life. You are now entering the sixth month of our one-year remedial lesson in life. is month, you will begin to understand and respect the gift of family. “Now, Jason, I realize that our family is about as messed up as a family can be, and I accept my full share of responsibility for that. However, the best or the worst family situation can teach us a lesson. We either learn what we want or, unfortunately, we learn what we don’t want in life from our families. Out of all the young men in the world, I have selected you. I have asked Mr. Hamilton to undertake this monumental task on my behalf for you because you are my great-nephew. It’s hard to understand why that means something, but I want you to know that it does. “Families give us our roots, our heritage, and our past. ey also give us the springboard to our future. Nothing in this world is stronger than the bond that can be formed by a family. at is a bond of pure love that will withstand any pressure as long as the love is kept in the forefront. “It’s important for you to realize that families come in all shapes and sizes. Some very blessed people are able to live their whole lives as part of the families they were born into. Other people, like you, Jason—through a set of circumstances—are left without family other than in name. ose people have to go out and create family. “I know this seems odd to you, but by the end of this month, I believe you will begin to understand what I am trying to tell you. is month, you, Mr. Hamilton, and Miss Hastings will be going on another trip. You will be meeting people who seem to have no family, and in this way I am hoping you will learn the value that a family can provide. “At the end of this month, I will ask you to demonstrate to Mr. Hamilton that you know and understand what the gift of family means. “Mr. Hamilton has all the details for your trip, and assuming you accomplish this objective, I will talk to you next month.” Jason turned to me and said, “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where we’re going, what we’re going to do, or whom we’re going to meet, are you?” I smiled and said, “All in good time, young man. I have been instructed to tell you only what you need to know and only when you need to know it.” Miss Hastings interrupted. “I believe we have made arrangements to pick you up at your home at 7:30 in the morning. We will be traveling several hours by automobile. Please be prepared to stay one month in a climate similar to the one which we are enjoying here in Boston.” e next morning, Miss Hastings and I were comfortably installed in the back of a long, black limousine driven by a very large gentleman selected especially for this mission. We pulled up in front of Jason’s palatial home, which his great-uncle had purchased for him via a trust fund. Our driver got out and went to the front door to collect Jason and his luggage. A few moments later, I saw the chauﬀeur—easily carrying both of Jason’s suitcases in one hand—leading Jason toward the car. Jason seemed a bit timid around the giant, and when the back door was opened to let Jason in, he appeared relieved to be in the company of Miss Hastings and me. “Who in the world is that huge guy?” asked Jason. Miss Hastings replied cheerily, “Oh, you mean Nathan? He is a very nice young man selected especially for this trip.” “What does that mean?” Jason asked. Miss Hastings just smiled and sipped on a cup of coﬀee. I turned and shook hands with Jason, greeting him. “Good morning, Jason. All will become clear at the appropriate time. For now, I suggest you sit back and relax, and I will tell you some of the details as we approach our destination.” We enjoyed a beautiful drive out of Boston, across eastern Massachusetts, and into New Hampshire. As we turned north along the coast, I began to explain our trip to Jason. “Before too long, we will be entering the state of Maine. We will travel several miles into a private forest, and we will arrive at the Red Stevens Home for Boys, where you will be a substitute houseparent for the next month. is will give the resident houseparent an opportunity for a well-deserved vacation and will give you an opportunity to get very well acquainted with thirty-six boys ranging in age from six to sixteen.” Jason stared at me dubiously and said, “I thought I was supposed to be learning about family. How in the world did that old man think I would learn about family from a bunch of orphans?” “at old man, as you so eloquently put it, started this place over thirty years ago and has funded it ever since,” I responded. “He knew it inside and out, and I am sure the lesson he has planned for you can be found there. I just hope for your sake you can keep an open mind and nd it.” “Well, it doesn’t make any sense to me,” Jason mumbled. “Nevertheless, you’re in for a unique month, to say the least,” I said. “As your great-uncle made me the chairman of the board of this institution upon his death, Miss Hastings and I will spend the month working in the oﬃce, dealing with some of the donors, and seeing to next year’s budget.” A few moments later, we drove oﬀ of the main highway and onto a gravel side road. We passed a rustic sign reading, Red Stevens Home for Boys. Several moments later, our excellent driver, Nathan, guided the limousine to a stop in the middle of a courtyard surrounded by several buildings, including a dining commons, a dormitory, a classroom building, a gymnasium, and an administration building. Nathan got out of the limousine and opened the rear door for the three of us to get out. As he was getting the luggage out of the trunk, the door to the dormitory burst open, and an entire herd of young boys rushed to Nathan and began to mob him. He picked several of them up in the air, hugged several more, and slapped hands with still others. ey were all calling his name and seemed to be terribly excited to see him. Finally, the enthusiastic greeting seemed to be over when Nathan said in a tone that would be hard to ignore, “Now, men, let’s get into our dormitory and make sure everything is squared away, because we have a new houseparent here for the month.” e boys responded immediately and rushed back into their dormitory. Nathan, somehow carrying all the luggage at once without seeming to be burdened down, led us into the dormitory. ere were two rows of bunks lining each wall with lockers in between. Nathan dropped Jason’s luggage onto the rst bunk and said, “Welcome home. is will be your palace for the next thirty days. Mr. Hamilton and Miss Hastings will be staying in the private apartments connected to the administration building.” Nathan turned back to Jason and said, “I would suggest you get unpacked and settled in. You have a lot of catching up to do.” We all agreed to meet in the dining room in approximately twenty minutes. Nathan showed Miss Hastings and me to the two comfortable apartments adjoining the administration building. At the agreed upon time, we were all seated at the end of a long table in the dining room. Several dozen boys streamed in and sat at what appeared to be assigned places. ey were talking excitedly and seemed to be curious about us as a group of outsiders gathered at the end of their table. After several moments, Nathan stood to his full height, which was, indeed, impressive. I estimated at least 6 feet, 8 inches. At that point, the boys went silent, and Nathan spoke. “Boys, as you know, your regular houseparent, Brad, will be on vacation for the next month. Jason Stevens will be lling in for him.” Nathan turned to Jason and said, “Stand up, Jason.” Jason stood slowly, and a chorus of young boys called out in ragged unison, “Hi, Jason.” Jason cleared his throat and stammered, “Hi.” Jason sat back down quickly. Nathan resumed his address to the young boys. “Also, Mr. Hamilton and Miss Hastings will be with us for the next month as well. Some of you will remember them being here during our board of director visits with Mr. Stevens. ey are very ne people that we are lucky to have here.” en Nathan bowed his head and gave thanks for the food. All of the boys followed suit and were polite and respectful throughout the meal. As we enjoyed our lunch, Jason asked Nathan, “Have you been here before?” Nathan laughed and responded, “You better believe it. e rst time I came here, I was smaller than the smallest kid at this table. I was in and out of a few foster homes, but when I think of the good things from my childhood, they all happened here.” “Do you work here now or something?” Jason asked. Nathan laughed, which sounded like a low rumble of thunder. “Yes and no,” he said. “I guess people would think of my main job as being the tight end for the New England Patriots, but as soon as the season’s over, I do whatever I can to be useful around here.” Jason seemed shocked and said, “I’m sorry. I thought you were just a limo driver.” “Well, today I am, and proud to do it,” Nathan responded. “Tomorrow I may be the head maintenance man or disciplinarian here. One of the things we learned from Red Stevens when I was growing up is that we all do what needs to be done because it’s the right thing to do.” “Well, what am I supposed to do here?” Jason asked. “I believe Mr. Stevens’ instructions through Mr. Hamilton were to let the boys help you gure out what you’re supposed to do here,” Nathan answered. “So, if they’re done eating, I will take Mr. Hamilton and Miss Hastings to the administration building to discuss next year’s budget and let your lessons begin.” Nathan slapped Jason on the back with a giant hand and led Miss Hastings and me from the dining room building. As we were passing through the door, I heard Jason calling to us, “Look, I don’t have a clue here. I’ve never been around any kids.” e young boys around the table all erupted into laughter which could be heard as we walked across the courtyard and into the administration building. For the next month, Miss Hastings and I did all of the legal and budgetary work required for the coming year. We did have several opportunities each day to look in on Jason, and Nathan told us he would keep us informed. For the rst several days, Jason seemed like a stranger. But, eventually he settled into his duties as father, brother, teacher, and friend to three dozen boys. On the last day, as Nathan was loading our luggage into the limousine, each of the boys came out, one at a time, to tell Jason good-bye. Hugs were exchanged, a few tears were shed, and Jason received a number of gifts which would be considered exceedingly valuable to young boys. I noticed several oddly shaped rocks, a four-leaf clover, and an arrowhead, among other heartfelt oﬀerings. As Nathan drove us out of the courtyard along the gravel driveway, Jason was turned in the seat waving to the boys until they were out of sight. We sat in silence until we were well along the highway back to Boston. Finally, Jason spoke. “You know what’s amazing? Not one of those boys has a family, but each of them knew more about a family than I did. I think family is not as much about being related by blood as it is about relating through love.” e limousine horn honked, and Nathan let out a blood-curdling yell which I am sure serves him well on the football eld. “You nally got it!” he shouted. ”I thought you were pretty useless when you got here, but I knew that if you were related to Red Stevens, we had a chance. You see, you come from a great family, and so do I.” Nine e Gift of Laughter Laughter is good medicine for the soul. Our world is desperately in need of more such medicine. When you become an octogenarian, you nd yourself dealing with your memories and your mortality. I was sitting in my oﬃce thinking of all the wonderful memories I carried with me, and my mind drifted back to Red Stevens. I had just gotten out of law school and opened my oﬃce. e sign on the door read, Hamilton and Associates. e Associates part was more of a wish than a reality, as I spent the majority of each day by myself. One day, I heard the bell on the outer door ring. I knew that my part-time secretary had already left for the day, so I got up and rushed out to see who it was. ere stood a formidable man I later learned was Red Stevens. He told me that he was going to be the biggest oil man and the biggest cattleman in Texas, and he was looking for a good lawyer. He said that he had called the best law school in America and learned that I had graduated rst in my class the previous spring. He just smiled that huge smile I came to know and love, and boomed, “So I thought the best lawyer in the world and the best oil man and cattleman in the world ought to get together.” It didn’t seem to bother either of us that I was a lawyer fresh out of law school with no clients, and he was an oil man and a cattleman without any oil or cattle. It began that simply and grew into a longtime professional and personal relationship. My thoughts of Red were interrupted when Miss Hastings stuck her head into my oﬃce and said that Jason Stevens was waiting for us in the conference room. Red appeared on the video screen and said, “Well, Jason, you’ve made it through six months of this twelve-month project. I want to remind you that you’ve come a long way, but you have a long way to go, and if at any point your attitude or your conduct does not meet Mr. Hamilton’s expectations, we will end this journey immediately, and you will not receive the ultimate gift, which is the bequest I have left to you in my will. “is month, you are going to learn about the gift of laughter. e gift of laughter I want you to learn about is not a comedian in a nightclub or a funny movie. It is the ability to look at yourself, your problems, and life in general, and just laugh. Many people live unhappy lives because they take things too seriously. I hope you have learned in the last six months that there are things in life to be serious about and to treasure, but life without laughter is not worth living. “is month, I want you to go out and nd one example of a person who is experiencing diﬃculties or challenges in his or her life but who maintains the ability to laugh. If a person can laugh in the face of adversity, that individual will be happy throughout life. “At the end of the month, you will report to Mr. Hamilton and Miss Hastings about the individual you have found and what you have learned from him or her about the gift of laughter.” Red Stevens began laughing and said, “Someday, Jason, you will have to ask Ted to tell you about some of the laughable situations we got ourselves into in the olden days.” As Red continued laughing to himself, the screen went black. Jason asked, “What is he talking about, Mr. Hamilton?” I smiled and replied, “at would, indeed, be for another time and another place, but for now, young man, it is time for you to get serious about the gift of laughter.” At that, Miss Hastings walked Jason out of the oﬃce. Our rm’s private investigator, Reggie Turner, discreetly followed Jason throughout the month. Reggie reported that Jason seemed to be going about his normal routine and did not appear to be showing any outward signs of exploring the gift of laughter. On the last day of the month, Miss Hastings buzzed me to say that Jason had called and asked if he could stop by in the afternoon. I told her that would be ne, and she let me know that Jason had informed her he would be bringing someone with him. At the appointed hour, Miss Hastings escorted Jason into my oﬃce along with another young man who was obviously blind. He wore dark glasses and carried a white cane. Miss Hastings seemed uncomfortable as she watched the blind man walk across the oﬃce, and I must admit to feeling a bit of apprehension myself. “Mr. Hamilton and Miss Hastings,” Jason said, “I’d like you to meet David Reese.” Mr. Reese held his hand out and said, “Long time, no see.” It took me a moment to overcome my anxiety and to be able to enjoy his humor. I shook his hand, and we all sat down. “I met David on a commuter train last week,” Jason explained. “We talked during the train trip and several times since, over the phone. He is simply the best example I can imagine of the gift of laughter.” David Reese blurted out, “Yeah, David told me that you guys needed a few laughs around here, so he dragged me in.” David turned his head to the right and said, “Boy, this is really a beautiful oﬃce.” “ank you,” I said and was about to tell him about my furnishings when I realized he had been pulling my leg. We all laughed. I asked Jason, “What was it about this young man that made you believe he had the gift of laughter when you rst met him on the train?” David Reese cut in and answered, “It was my magazine trick, sir.” I smiled and asked, “Okay, what’s the magazine trick?” David Reese explained. “Some of the commuter trains are not as clean as they should be, so whenever the seat

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