RANTS FROM OBLIVION

Money-wise, it wasn't a great job.
Travel-wise, it packed too many miles on his car.
Future resume-wise, it didn't add a lot of splash to a page.
But being new to the area and not having the contacts required to establish his own business again, it provided some sense of security for his new bride and that was important. Having always been entrepreneurial, 9 to 5 was deeply anti-personal to him - almost sacrilegious. The false security it provided didn't compensate for either the gnawing need he had to express his personal capacities, nor for the financial gain with which he knew only entrepreneurialism was capable. But for the sake of kind regard, he proceeded.

Problem was, the money did force compromises. And with his child away at school, it did prevent him from being able to provide for her in a way he had been able to just a few years prior. It wasn't desperation inducing or any such behavior but it did affect him. Beside the budgeted monthly stipend he sent, the desire to take care of his child was deep, so as an added little 'gift' he decided he would put in a change jar whatever coins he managed to accumulate in his pockets each day.

When she had been 3 or 4, they had referred to the water jug they had then used to collect change in as "The College Fund". When they'd emptied and counted the jug's contents just prior to her leaving for her 1st semester, it was quite amusing to see the reality of the jar's long kept secret total. Especially in relation to the price of one year's tuition -
jug's total: $375
school's total:$37,500 (100 times as much)


But this numbing statistic didn't prevent him from the thought of presenting his little girl with something to make her life a bit better, and each night he would smile as he heard the satisfying "clingk" of the coins drop in the jar.

It was slow going but winter finally returned the joy of life back to Spring and then the buds on the trees matured into the welcome shade for Summer's sometimes relentless shining brightness. And each night the jar was touched with the warmth of the thought which the contents' fruit would bear. Soon the colors began the glad pronouncement of Summer's release on uncomfortability, and the jar began to take on that similar look of nature's profundity - it was nearly large enough to burst.

Ahh, the harvest. Now was the time and the season, and the jar carefully found its self in the midst of fiduciary greatness and responsibility - the local bank. Soon the pounds of silver and nickel and copper and zinc were ceremoniously exchanged into much less than one ounce of paper at the coin counting machine. It equaled the magnificent sum of 92 dollars and 77 cents.

The 77 cents remained in the jar - seed for the next bounty to begin.

It seems that this was an appropriate time to exchange coin for cash since this very evening his daughter was expected home. The simple joy of being able to present a humble expression of months of gentle thought and concern quietly stirred remembrances of innocent times between them - of shared walks and talks down quiet country paths - of moments of relaxed silence hand in hand.

But fate would prove more foe than friend this day.

Somewhere between happily marching out of the bank with 4 twenties, 1 ten, 2 ones, 77 cents and home, the $92 disappeared. No amount of searching exposed its clever hiding spot and no phone calls to the bank produced any report of newly found funds.
The father was crestfallen - not for the value of the money but for the loss of what the gift represented. Sure, if a stone falls from a ring, it can be replaced, but the sentiment is there, still enfolding the real stone, protecting it from imitation. So too with the gift. And although he did withdraw $92 from his account, it felt less than right. There was now a rift in the original flow of simplicity, the genuineness of the gift.

Several hours later, after having settled down, he prepared for the homecoming of his daughter. It had been some time since she had been home so the anticipation was building and the image of fun times and good conversation was alive in his imagination. And after hearing some commotion outside, the door burst open and in strode his daughter, a young woman now, obviously his 'little girl' no more. She was apparently preoccupied with something much more meaningful, something much more critical, because instead of greeting her father in any fashion at all, she brushed past him as if he were invisible, but much less important.

In retrospect, he probably would have handled her behavior a little more brusquely and humorously but the newness of it all was disconcerting. Especially in light of the history of their fond relationship. So when he gave her the envelope a while later with the intention of explaining the succession of events which we've been explaining, and she accepted it by responding "Yeah, right" and immediately turned and shouted to someone in the kitchen, "Hey, is there any coffee?", a switch clicked in his head.

There's an author who describes how everybody has an emotional bank account with everyone they're connected with. It isnt a conscious tabulation of emotional debits and credits - but when someone affects another in a negative way, the emotional consequence is comparable to a debit, and it is felt. Likewise, when some one does something for you (without attempting to manipulate you), then that person creates an emotional credit. But similar to credit, once you've damaged it, it takes time to prove again that you are trustworthy.

The switch that clicked in his head was the emotional "bounced check", "overdraft", "NSF" response. It took a while to come to grips with the reality, but it was at that moment that he realized that the care and time and tenderness which he was expending on his own child couldn't be less appreciated. Or wanted. A bizarre unpleasant reality.

But love is irrepressible - and fortunately there are beautiful souls to touch.