Intrinsically Worthless Objects of Great Value
The moment itself is no longer in my memory, but its marker persists. Probably the ceremony took place at a party the night before the first of us left for college. Four close friends, about to leap away from each other into the unknown, searched for a way to signify our bond, which we hoped would endure across the months and miles. I'm pretty sure it was Barak who had the inspiration to pull a dollar bill from his wallet, rip it neatly into four pieces, and solemnly hand a shred to each of us, to keep forever.
The following summer, when I was working in a laminating shop (long story), I heat-sealed my piece of the dollar in plastic.
Some years after that, the three of us who were still regularly in touch (but not often in the same city) were walking back to our cars after dinner together at El Coyote restaurant in Los Angeles. Barak asked us to pull the dollar fragments out of our wallets. He and I produced ours, but our friend David discovered his was missing. He was upset; it seemed to affirm our growing distance. I think I was the one who pulled out another dollar, ripped it into thirds and gave each of my friends a piece. In that moment the gesture was nothing more than a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. But I confirmed recently that 20 years later, each of us still has our piece of the El Coyote dollar.
Mine lives in a special wooden box along with the laminated fragment from the first dollar and other intrinsically worthless personal treasures. Here is the sign that used to hang on the wall outside my office when I was an unhappy lawyer: "Mr. Hoffman," so perfectly capturing my reduction during those years to a creature of the firm. Now, in my treasure box, it's a symbol of adversity overcome. Here is the brochure, obtained at my UCLA freshman orientation session, which guided me into the student government (and, indirectly, to everything that has flowed from that involvement, including my career), a symbol of how everyday choices can change everything. Here is the temporary library card I obtained when I was 3 years old, featuring what might well have been my first-ever attempt to write my own name. Now the card stands for the continuity of some of my interests and personality across decades.
I love helping people to recognize their power, and one of the most wonderful sources of power available to all of us is our capacity to make meaning. You, too, can transform ordinary objects, ordinary moments, ordinary encounters into wellsprings of inspiration and significance sending ripples across space and time.
No doubt you've already done so. I hope you'll share how in a comment.
No doubt you've already done so. I hope you'll share how in a comment.
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Posted: November 6, 2011, 3:19 PM