A Gift

Shortly after I opened my law office more than fifty years ago I bought a carved oak bookcase that I treasured.  It remained in my offices until last week.

Times change. When we moved to a new building fifteen years ago my lovely bookcase didn’t fit into my personal office at work, and its style didn’t fit in with the décor of our home.  So I moved it to Ed’s office where I enjoyed seeing it once or twice a week.

Now Ed has become a consultant, which means he’s semi-retired while I am not.  Is there something wrong with this picture?  I don’t think so, because I enjoy working and keeping my mind sharp (assuming it was sharp in the first place).  We have hired four new employees to start work next month, so we have to convert Ed’s former office into a space that will serve the needs of two people. This means we no longer have room for my oak bookcase.

My typical solution is: “put it into storage.”  But by this stage of my life I have proven over and over again that storage for me is like the Roach Motel.  What goes in never comes out.  Over the years I have paid thousands of dollars in storage fees, after which I have paid thousands of dollars to get rid of sofas, tables, chairs, lamps, and cheap or broken works of art.

My other solution is to sell.  But I remembered when I purchased the bookcase my friend Jim had also liked it.  If I remember correctly, I saw it first and kept it for myself.

So when the movers asked, “Where do you want the bookcase to go?” I thought of Jim.  Now, fifty years later, he is still a valued consultant to my business and places all of our new loans.  Jim has a lovely home filled with books and art.  I thought my bookcase more belonged with him than in a rented storage unit or sold off to someone I didn’t know.

“Deliver it to Jim,” I said, with only a slight hesitation in my voice.

I learned long ago to reserve my love for people, not things. I briefly considered offering the cabinet to Jim only if he paid for the delivery charge.  After all, he lives some distance from my office.  But my father told me years ago that if you treat someone to dinner you should cover the tip as well.  In other words, take care of everything.

Last week I received the following text from Jim:  “They delivered the bookcase today.  It is beautiful and I have admired it for forty years.  Thank you so much.  It is without doubt the best gift I ever got for somebody else’s birthday!”

This blog is about a gift.  Not the gift of the bookcase.  This blog is about the gift Jim and I have given to each other, and is our friendship of more than forty years.

Each day is the date of our rebirth.  It is the best day to enjoy the fresh breeze in your face, and the most precious gift of all — friendship.

Love,

Alan