Sunday 21 August 2016

Loaded with Value

 Loaded with Value    

When Jill arrives home with the children, she brushes the silent wind chime pipes. Their ringing paints a smile on her face.
“Why’d you do that?” questions Amber, looking back at her mother.
“Because I’m happy!” says Jill, thinking about the Camrose United Church’s bells ringing Sunday morning. Mary’s comment comes to mind: It’s like they are announcing good news. Jill’s good news is she doesn’t have to feel guilty about pursuing her education. Rebecca’s advice lifts her. “Don’t let those women dictate your life. Be true to yourself.”





 The wind chimes echoes Jill’s joy. But why does wind chimes need to be the mechanism to show Jill’s bliss?  Couldn’t she dance or sing? Jill’s answer to her daughter, while true, misses a deeper meaning, a meaning with which Jill doesn’t recognize until much later.
The first time that Jill felt truly happy was the summer she lived at her grandmother’s place in Brampton. She was furthering her education, pursuing her love of drama, and feeling completely safe. The soothing setting that is buried deep in her memory is sun tanning on the balcony of her grandmother’s house. In the tranquil atmosphere wind chimes rang.
While the first setting connotes a free spirit, being responsible and being loved, another setting with wind chimes occurred when she sat on a restaurant balcony at the Family Conference in Chicago. There, her listening ear comforted a distraught Bill. His wife was dying of cancer. He, a university educated man, appreciated her words of wisdom. As a person Jill, a high school graduate, felt important.

For Jill the sight or sound of wind chimes brings a nostalgic meaning. For others perhaps a treasured memory is about a particular practice––hugging family members or guests when they come to visit. The value associated with the meaning of a memory far outweighs its cost or utility.
No wonder, at times of downsizing, older people struggle with what should be discarded.


haiku capsule:
              empty wind pipes sing        
                                a peer group's grip is broken      
                                a loved diamond link


Next blog:  No Big Deal    

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