This blog talkers was tricky for a strange reason... because, to be honest, I've blogged about it before...

...but it was a LONG time ago, so I'm going to "replicate" the post with some moderate editing as it was fairly long... and an addition or two at the bottom...

This week's question/request...

What is one item that you own that has minimal monetary value, but has such sentimental value that you wouldn’t sell it for any amount of money?

I'm glad this was rephrased... "Value" can mean many things... for example, let's face it, our bus that we're trying to get has a legitimate "value" of about $6,000.00 to $8,000.00 before shipping... so $20k total... but to us, it's value is incalculable.

There are things that have no "monetary value" to the world in general that are worth more to specific people than anyone can fathom... and that's why, in most cases, it's impossible to "guess" what it's worth... at least, from a third-party stance.

The old post about one such item is about one of two of my most prized possessions... to the point that my computer would be left behind in a fire so I could attempt to rescue them first...

In doing some housecleaning a while back, I recently found what I consider my most precious possession...

Back in the mid-1990's, I worked in a software retail store in an upscale neighbourhood in Toronto. The shop was owned by two Iranian men... one of whom was a bit of a... um... problem and the other I liked very much.

They also had an acquaintance working for them... also Iranian... a wonderful man... tall, lean, salt-and-pepper hair, big bushy moustache... he had a weathered face that seemed to be the exact image you'd get if someone was to describe a "romantic" but "generic" Arabic featured man. He had a wonderful voice with an easy-on-the-ears accent... and was friendly and warm... and generally, a good soul to have around.

He was not wealthy... his job didn't pay all that well... but he worked hard to support his family. They were trying to get their Canadian citizenship very hard... and all of us in the store would have done anything to help.

I'd like to tell you his life story... it deserves telling... it was fascinating... but I can't. I haven't seen the man in ages, and it's his story... and I'd want him to tell it.

He had a young son... mostly raised in Toronto... he was a happy, energetic kid who, on rare occasions, visited his dad at the shop. He was so fond of his father that it was amazing and heartwarming to see them together. My task at work, when the kid was visiting, was to set up a "display computer" with a game or two for him to amuse himself while we worked.

This kid, being a real Torontonian first, was enamoured with hockey. He was a fan of all things Toronto Maple Leafs. He'd sit and talk about them ad nauseam... it reminded me of when I was a kid when Borje Salming, Daryl Sitler, Wayne Thomas, Tiger Williams, and Lanny MacDonald were my heroes.

One of my own fondest childhood memories of my father was him taking me to games... and we'd watch them and cheer on the ol' blue and white... We'd sit in the "reds" with his company's tickets and I'd get overly excited... and I'd read the programs over and over again until the pages literally were in tatters... as regular readers know, since I lost my father at seventeen, I'm honest that I have precious few vivid memories of him, but Leaf's games were one of them.

The software shop being located where it was provided more than a few corporate clients and some folks who had the "means" to certain things... and one of my customers (did I mention that the customers at that store were THE BEST! Those were fond memories of dealing with people there...) and I were kibitzing about life in general when hockey came up.

He told me that he had Leaf's season's tickets and on occasion, had spares... needless to say, I was thrilled! I hadn't seen a live game in over a decade... and memories of my dad made me giddy at the thought... so I gently suggested that, should he have spares again, I'd love to go...

True to his word, about a week later, he deposited two "red" tickets to a game.

You see, Toronto's a funny hockey town... even when the team sucks, tickets are rare and expensive... very expensive... and very rare... so this was a huge thrill and I started planning my evening at The Good Ol' Hockey Game!

I called my (now long ex) girlfriend and told her the great news! She had never been to a game in her life and we were going!

I hung up the phone and turned around... there was the moustached fellow... he congratulated me on the tickets.

This sounds cheesey, but I didn't hesitate for a minute...

I handed the tickets to him and said, "Please, take your son. He'll get a way bigger kick out of this than I will."

Of course, he refused... until I insisted... "I will go again. I've already been to many games with my dad. It'll mean way more to him and give him a great memory."

I called my (ex) girlfriend and broke the news... I was half-expecting to be on the defencive and take a bit of a tongue-lashing for giving away a night out... but no, she was understanding and said that I'd done the "right thing".

A couple of months later, the day after my birthday, the moustached fellow presented me, at the store, with a large piece of paper... on it was two Egyptian figures... it was from his son.

A "Happy Birthday" gift... and a thank you for those tickets.

Hunter S. Thompson once said, "You'll never know when you'll get defined by a moment."... I'd like to think this was mine.

The paper/card/drawing/gift represented so much... me doing the right thing... being a little selfless... a kid's dream... a memory with a father... so many levels. This paper was/is precious to me.

Sadly, many years back, it was almost destroyed... I was living with another now ex-girlfriend... she over watered a plant in our apartment and used this "old piece of paper" to mop up the spill... I just about died.

Oh, I was angry... and I did vent (thankfully, I'm not a violent man as I was really outraged...) but I calmed down, accepted the fact that she didn't understand the gravity of this old piece of paper... dried it out, and placed it in between two pieces of cardboard to protect it.

Well, I found it a while back... and scanned it...

It's funny to think that right now, there's a twenty-plus-year old man walking around... who's probably unaware of how his simple act of kindness and thanks has really left a huge mark in my life.

My second "gift" was, of course, from Sue... and she kinda understands why it was so valuable to me... but has also said she doubted she could "top" this gift...

I was a "want" kid... never a "need" kid. In other words, my family was of enough means that I never needed anything... but I had plenty of things I wanted...

Trouble was, when it came time to do gifts, my folks were rather pragmatic... and often ignored my "lists" in favour of trying to either spoil me further or get me more "practical" things... and over the years, I kinda gave up on the whole thing and simply just accepted as graciously as possible whatever was given. (As a kid, it's hard to fain joy and pleasure at a pair of socks... but I learned...)

This is NOT to say they weren't generous... but often ignored what I really wanted in lieu of what they felt was best for me.

As an example, I have always been (and still am) an aviation enthusiast... yet I'd receive remote control cars... does that make sense?

It's not that the cars were "bad", but it was a bad fit for me.

The ONE time a family member had listened to me was three years after my "very bad time" when I had requested something I couldn't yet afford to buy myself... a proper tea pot and some Twining's Earl Grey tea...

When I was opening the gift, my mother was shocked as I literally wept when I saw the tea and pot... she couldn't understand it... I had received so many lovely, expensive, and nice things... why had THIS made me so emotional?

I explained that I had yet to be able to afford it and missed having it so much... and most importantly, my sister (who had given it to me) had listened and given me what I wanted.

To be honest, that was the ONE time... and was over a decade ago... and things went back to "normal" with gifts... the lesson, it seemed, went unheeded.

I still have and use that teapot, but it's not the one I want to talk about...

Our first year legitimately together, Sue asked me what I wanted for my birthday from her... I said that I had always wanted a flask.

Now, this was a WEIRD request from a teetotaller (someone who really doesn't drink,) but she figured out why...

At that point, I had not yet begun to be a re-enactor... but a flask, for a nineteenth-century officer or any gentleman was considered a mandatory item almost...

She knew I wanted so badly to be "in the field" and that this item meant a lot to me.

Oddly enough, as I'd become so used to throwing out what I "wanted" to people and not even coming close to getting it, I told her this and almost dismissed the notion I'd get it immediately based on my experience...

Needless to say, I got it...

Okay, "stitchcounters", I know it's not a perfect item by design or manufacturer for re-enacting the early bits of the 1800's, but it's still a perfect gift...

The fact that this "new person" in my life had listened and truly given me what I wanted should have been sufficient...

...what turned on the water-works for me, however, was when I looked carefully at my new gift...

Je suis Français, but English is my first and really only language...

Look at my name... Matthew James Didier... not Mathieu Jacques Didier...

...oh, and for those not in the know already, it's pronounced Didd-Ee-Ay... sorta like "Did he, eh?"

That said, however, je parle un petit peut de Français and often use it in terms of affection... as my trifle smattering of French was most often used to converse with my Grandpere, whom I loved very much.

I often told Sue, J'taime, mon cher! and still do instead of "I love you" more often than not...

...and there it was... inscribed in pewter...

This quickly registered in my brain... she not only listened to what I wanted and got it, but she had been listening all along...

Yeah, I literally cried... quite a bit...

They were genuine tears of joy.

The flask is kept in a prominent spot on my desk... and yes, there is SOME brandy in it... I'm a teetotaller after all, not a devout-non-drinker.

Granted, the brandy has lasted well over three years... I'd like to think I'm ageing it.

What's weird is that just today, before starting this post, Sue had mentioned that she understood that I would most likely be buying a new Baker Rifle (I hope my one captain in re-enacting doesn't read this... as he "forbade" me to buy another one wanting me to get a Kentucky Long Rifle or Brown Bess instead,) that our financial picture had become a little rosier... yes, before the bus... because I truly miss being "in the field".

She suggested that it be her Christmas gift to me... and I had just said to her that she'd always wondered how she could "top" the flask... considering that I sold my Baker to pay rent when things were so awful, replacing it would be a step towards reclaiming our "normal life"... sort-of saying "We made it through!"

Now, this will be a one-thousand dollar gift... and one might say, But if the bus is your dream, shouldn't the thousand go to that? which is a valid question...

Both are important. VERY important.

One represents "getting back" our lives after a terrible few years...

The other represents a dream that we all adopted...

One will take about a thousand dollars...

The other will take about twenty-thousand dollars...

One is easily obtained...

One is far more difficult to obtain...

One is likely going to be available for a while...

The other has a shelf-life and we might fail in achieving it no matter what we do...

So, being a good pragmatist and knowing how much we've missed being a part of the re-enacting community and how easy it will be to slip back into it, the rifle is coming first and without outside help.

The bus, being so pricey and so difficult a thing to get will continue to be our "dream" and what we're trying to do here and fingers crossed, we will succeed...

...and I have to think to myself... if I was teary over some tea and a teapot, a pewter flask, and know that I will be over a reproduction flint-lock... if we do get our bus, I'm worried I'll become dangerously dehydrated!!

The standard last note on the old blog... PLEASE SUPPORT THE DREAM!

This blog is here to help promote a dream that an entire family shares... that dream is to rescue an old London Double-Decker bus.

Please, if you have a few minutes, take some time to find out more about this bus and the kooky dream by clicking here.

This bus is VERY special to myself and the whole family, and any help any person can lend us would be most gratefully accepted.

If you or someone you know might be interested, there's our tiny banner site, HelpCoverTheBus.Com and a PayPal donation button (see the upper-right hand side of the blog) and, of course, a Cafe Press shop for T-Shirts and shtuff!
(...and who doesn't need some shtuff!)

Please help us make this dream a reality and save a piece of history!

We thank you for your support!

Please Note: We are also hoping for help from a public relations/marketing standpoint... If you might be able to assist OR know someone who might be willing to, please click here and read this entry...