THOSE PRECIOUS THINGS WE KEEP - AND WHY

Oh, the things we keep, the material things that we wouldn't trade for the world. The things we
wouldn't sell for any price. They're not the diamonds and rubies, are they? They're not the exquisite museum pieces! Not the first edition books. Well, maybe they are, but probably not. They're probably the more simple things, small or large, that we keep because they mean something to us - in our hearts, in our memories. Maybe it's that piece of vintage furniture or set of cookbooks, handed down to us by a loved one. A set of fine china, silver, vintage linen or piece of jewelry. Am I right?

But if someone asks us what we'd save first in an emergency, what do we usually say? Yes, our pictures, our old pictures. The ones of our ancestors. The ones of our children when they were babies, growing up. Wedding pictures, etc. The NEW pictures we have on our telephones! We'll probably never touch those or put them in frames or actual albums. They're supposedly floating somewhere on a cloud - of sorts. That's "magic" to me, "magic" that I don't begin to understand, but of which I'm
entirely too dependent.

I remember  m a n y  years ago, summer 1980. The emergency sirens were blaring, warning of a
storm. The wind began to blow ferociously. My first thought was to find Jamey, my most prized possession, who was out riding his new bike. I went to the porch to scream for him and finally he appeared, the wind blowing him backward as quickly as he pedaled forward. A little Wizard of
Oz-ish as I think back! But, long story short, I had him in my clutches. We retreated to the cellar. The storm that day was pretty devastating to Chester. I'm not sure if they ever technically decided if it was a tornado or straight line wind, but it took most of the roof off of the courthouse, downed trees all over town, damaged many, many houses, etc. Power was out immediately - and for a couple of days. In our little corner of town, lightning struck the old Gilster feed store buildings on Stacey Street, across from the old Dairy Queen. It was a mighty fire and from our vantage point farther up the hill, we could see the tall flames licking into the storm darkened sky. In what seemed like no time, the wind was blowing the embers upward and toward us. Men and women, many of whom had raced home from work, were out in their yards, some even on their roofs, with garden hoses, making an effort to save their homes if it became necessary. I had an immediate plan - since I couldn't get on the roof! I grabbed my Grandma Hasemeyer's vintage trunk and started stuffing it with framed pictures and photo albums. I dragged that heavy trunk as close to the front door as I could get it. And thankfully, there it sat for a couple of days until electricity was restored and our lives were calmed. It sat as a stark reminder that we had been faced with a possible disaster. Who knows if I would have been able to drag both it and that boy of mine out of the house if I'd actually had to. But I was ready to try. When pressed, we save what means the most to us.

A few weeks ago some dear friends of mine in Louisiana awoke to a quickly flooding home. They said they grabbed their little girls and very few precious items before they raced out the door to a "do-gooder's" rescue boat that was waiting outside. Days later when they were able to get back to their
water damaged home, it was truly devastating to see what was lost, what was damaged beyond saving, what was gone forever. But they're moving on. Faith and strength, determination and fortitude. They know first hand now, the pain of loss, the joy of what and who were saved.

We know that these things we love are just things, right? Of course we do. For many of us, the most precious THINGS we have and love and protect are only priceless to us, not of monetary value to anyone. I have that earlier-mentioned old camelback trunk that belonged to my Grandma Hasemeyer. She saved the money to buy it from her first job at the old shoe factory. Wouldn't trade it for anything. I have an old wooden box trunk that my Great Grandpa August Hasemeyer brought over from Hanover, Germany in 1888. He was 16 and it held everything he owned in the world. The front of the box, in indelible ink, says, A. Hasemeier, Schester, Illinois. Fewer will understand this one, but I have an old set of deer antlers, brought to me when I was seven or eight years old, by my Grandpa Hasemeyer when he bagged a deer on a hunting trip to Colorado. When he called on the phone and asked what he could bring me, that's what I asked for! I've got 'em. Wouldn't trade 'em for anything! You see where I'm going with this. And I hope that, as you're reading, your mind is traveling through your home, thinking of those THINGS you wouldn't trade for anything either.

But the truth is, and we all know it, we could lose these things and survive. We would never really lose them because the memories of why we have them and of why they mean so much to us, resides in our hearts, in our minds. We have the memories of mom and dad, grandma and grandpa, our kids, our friends. It's because of them that these items are priceless to us. Because those people are and were priceless to us. And that, my friends, is what it's all about. I pray none of us ever has to face
such a loss. But if we do, may that same faith and strength of my friends, be with us all.

It's early morning, a time I don't often see but only hear about. That means the air will be cool for
a while yet. You know where I'm going. The porch calls as does the first of cup of morning coffee. I hope your day is wonderful!