ABOUT JACK
I grew up bouncing from foster home to foster home. My only one life-long friend was a teddy bear I named “Happy.” I really wanted to believe there wasn’t another “Happy” in this world, and he belonged to me. However, at my first foster home I see a little kid named Bruno who has a bear that looks remarkably like mine. We only spend a short time together but I remember feeling very sad when Bruno was sent to another home.
I get lucky at age nine when my foster family turns out to be an upscale couple who think I’m cute. Sure glad I smiled big in that photo! They offer juicy cheeseburgers, crispy French fries and super-size chocolate milkshakes just for agreeing to take flute lessons and practicing every afternoon. I later learn my foster Mom had been an accomplished flute player until a car accident left her unable to play ever again. Because the rewards are worth it, I never stop practicing. Then comes the day when they tell me they are planning to move to Vienna, and I am not part of their plan. It is extremely tough for me to say goodbye. They say the keepsake flute they gave me for my birthday will always remind me of good times and the importance of families. I promise to never stop playing.
Too bad my next “home” is not nearly as fun. Being a twelve-year-old, I was not in demand by foster families. I manage to get by with minimal supervision but always feel like an outsider inside this family. Needing some extra cash to help pay their mortgage, I am their paycheck. In addition to their receiving a small government subsidy, they insist I find a part-time job to cover all of my own expenses.
One day at school I hear someone talking about the Red Rivals Gang. Sounds like they get by without following all the rules and dare each other to try risky things. Being greatly in need of money and a sense of belonging, I decide to show up at the place where they gather the next afternoon. Wasn’t long before I experience a deep feeling of belonging when in their presence. Being part of this group makes me feel like a member of a team. We all have a unique handshake and make up words to communicate plans. I also learn how to steal snacks from the local supermarket, although I didn’t expect to be put in the county jail for petty theft.
I struggled to complete the required classes and barely met the minimum requirements for a high school diploma. But I am given that parchment paper that says I made it. Glad there is a new movie showing at the local theatre where I treat myself to a jumbo size popcorn and no one sees the two cans of beer in my pockets.
Working as cashier at the dollar store is my entrance into the working world. While on a crowded bus early one morning I sit next to a girl who is flipping through a National Geographic magazine. I can’t help but notice the stunning red mountains she seems to be staring at for the longest time. So I ask if she has ever seen anything like that. She seems friendly and tells me how she dreams of going to far-off places. She works in administration for a travel company, so maybe her dream will come true. Lucky her! Still nice how our daily commutes correspond, although I must admit I often work late at the dollar store so I can ride the bus with her. Then one day I get up the nerve to ask her out for coffee. She says yes. That is the beginning of a very short but extremely exciting time of my life. After we meet for coffee a few times, she invites me to her apartment. Friday nights are what I live for until the night she tells me she is pregnant and is going to live with her parents and that our relationship is over.
Guilt, grief, anger and confusion are just a few of the crazy emotions I am experiencing. Why couldn’t there be a chance for me to have a normal family life like everyone else? For some reason, I can’t stop dwelling on the fact that I was part of creating a new life. What will happen to that person? Not a real surprise when I hear that my ex-girlfriend’s parents insist she give the baby up for adoption. Much as I would like to think of myself tossing a toddler in the air with his smile buried in my brain, I know that kind of life is never going to happen to me. Many long nights I spend crying and praying that this child will have the life I never had.
It took a lot of behind-the-scenes detective work to discover the location of my baby daughter. While I promise myself never to interfere in her life, I have to find a way to stay connected. When I get promoted to Assistant Manager at the dollar store, I am able to move into a tiny apartment just two blocks away from where my daughter and her adoptive parents live. Walking by her newly remodeled home assures me she is in a good place. Then one day while I’m sitting outside my apartment playing my flute I happen to see her mother walk by with her in a stroller, and hear she is called Rose. What a beautiful name for my daughter, and I can’t believe my eyes. I actually can see myself in her smile. Keeping my promise not to interfere, I quickly walk by with only a nod.
Because I never forgot the birthday when I was blessed with my beautiful flute, I decide I’ll find a way to anonymously get a little birthday present to my little girl each year. Nicely wrapped little gifts left mysteriously on her doorstep had to be pleasant surprises. Though the year she turns six I am very short on cash and can’t afford to buy anything. So I search the neighborhood until I find a shiny smooth silver stone. Looking for inspiration on how to creatively make it special, I turn to my old pal teddy bear who I named happy many years ago. Somehow I manage to etch the word “happy” into the sparkly stone. There is nothing more that I want for my little girl than to be happy. That is the image I will always hold in my heart for her.
Life at the dollar store becomes very boring. My co-workers are constantly moving into better positions and bigger jobs. The idea of creating a resume sounds foreign to me. So I’m resolved to lead a dismal life until it all changes one day while at a local bar, when I initiate a conversation with the guy sitting next to me. Since baseball seemed to be his favorite topic, I delight in the stories of his historic homeruns. He ends up telling me about how he became a real estate agent and encourages me to complete the required training. Why not start my life over again, I thought. Several months later, now holding a real estate license, I’m asked to conduct a search for a house for this former hall-of-famer. That’s when my bank account suddenly grows. I quickly learn that going above-and-beyond in little ways often makes me the guy that other All Stars want as their real estate agent.
At first, I really don’t know how to handle all the dollars coming my way. The lavish meals, extravagant vacations and frequent visits to the casino are unbelievably fun. But my luck ends soon after running into an old pal at the local watering hole. We reminisce about our days as part of the Red Rivals Gang. Those were the days when we didn’t worry about what we did or who we hurt. I get the feeling that he wishes we had never left that point in time. When he asks if I would do him a favor and drive his car to a place where he needs to go, I have no reason to hesitate. Too bad he managed to lose his drivers license recently. So off we go and end up in a pretty deserted wooded area. My old pal then jumps out of the car and seems to be running for his life. In an instant I see flashing lights behind me and am perplexed about what just happened. The police officer is not smiling when he approaches my car door and tells me to immediately get out with my hands up. When I try to explain about how I was just giving my buddy a ride, he surprises me with handcuffs and announces that I am being arrested for driving a stolen car containing a plethora of drugs.
It then began to feel like my life may be over. Threatening the guards got me three months in solitary confinement which almost drove me mad. Without ever speaking to a soul, I wonder if I am losing my mind. Looking back on my life, I definitely feel like a loser. Doesn’t take long before thoughts of suicide enter my mind. After all, who would miss me? But before I can figure out a plan to end my life, I am moved to a regular cell and hear about something called a prisoner mentoring program. Why would a stranger have the slightest interest in me, a criminal, I wonder. At this point though, contact from anyone might be a welcome distraction since I never had a visitor. But week after week goes by with contact from no one and thoughts of suicide still dangle in my mind.
The day I thought I was getting close to having a plan to end my life I am interrupted by mail call. My name had never been called during the last 36 months I’d been in prison. Today is different. It’s when I receive a lengthy letter from a guy who says he is my new pen pal. He sounds like a nothing-special guy until near the end of the letter when he confesses to having thoughts of suicide. What struck me was how his feelings of lack of purpose mirror mine. Then he tells me he is a priest.
I can’t understand why someone who spent all those years learning about religion and serving others would even question if their life mattered. Now a guy like me, that is a different story. I’d read about how when you die the ones who really suffer are the ones you leave behind. This guy probably has parents and siblings who will question why they didn’t do something to prevent it from happening. Then they get to live with a life of guilt. Doesn’t seem right.
My first letter to Father Luke lets him know that I was actually quite excited to receive my very first letter ever. Thought it might make him feel good to know he did something worthwhile. Isn’t much to tell him about my dull days with awful food and no company. Just so I don’t sound like a total loser, I briefly mention how in my prior life I often played the flute and once won a musical competition for my rendition of “Amazing Grace.” But I can’t end my letter without confessing that I, too, am contemplating suicide. Maybe we could be known as friends who wish to die.
Wasn’t more than two weeks later when my name was called again to receive another letter. Father Luke was now considering my thoughts about the impact his death would have on his family. Wouldn’t it be cool if I could save a priest? Well he did say he appreciated my honesty on all topics but more than anything he was encouraging me to think about my flute playing when I get out of prison. He said that churches are frequently looking for good musicians and I might even pick up a few spare bucks playing at weddings. Having something else to think about, now my days are often spent listening to the flute in my mind. I even discovered a music channel available for an hour a week to those who volunteer to do the dinner dishes.
The day I walk out of prison I am determined never to return. The only thing I want to do is open up my flute case and begin really playing again. My first stop is at the Old Scenic Trail where I had hiked years ago and remember the expansive mountain tops. Once there , I pull out my flute and it seems like the birds are enjoying my music. I’m almost starting to feel human again. Often I stop in a pretty rustic coffee shop before hitting the trail with my flute for sunrise serenades. One morning a young woman sits down next to me and starts asking about trails in the area. Sounds like she is in love with nature and can’t wait for her next adventure. Of course, I suggest she check out the Old Scenic Trail and mention she might hear someone playing the flute if she can make it to the top.
While I rarely did things just to be kind, I immediately stopped on my way up the Old Trail the next morning when I saw the nature-loving woman on the ground in what looked like excruciating pain in her leg. Yet she was determined that it was only a sprained ankle and with a short rest she could make it back down the mountain. When she asked again about the flute player at the top, I couldn’t resist pulling out my flute and playing a couple of tunes for her. She said she would never forget my rendition of “Amazing Grace” and for the first time in a long time I felt gratified with my playing. Sort of convinced myself to never stop playing my flute.
While I never thought I would live to be 100, I know that someday soon my life must be over. I don’t fear passing on, but I don’t want to leave this world without knowing I made a contribution. My legacy is what I’m desperately seeking. So I decide to invite four special acquaintances from my past to my 100th birthday party. I’ll ask them to identify my legacy, and then I will know if my life mattered.
BRUNO
Successful is how most people describe me. Having a wife, who is a surgeon, two kids in Ivy league schools, and living in what most consider to be a mansion, may have earned that title for me. Little do most people know what goes on inside of me.
Growing up I enjoyed a good life. Ice cream cones every Sunday afternoon and being chosen for goalie on the Mighty Mites team make me the king of fourth grade. I don’t confess to anyone that my worn-out teddy bear sleeps with me every night.
There was just one thing I frequently struggled with and that was saying goodbye. I remember when my pet turtle kicked the bucket, I cried for days. My Mom offered to replace him, but the only thing that comforted me was my old teddy bear.
A few years later I become friends with Anthony, and life seems like it can’t possibly get any better. We go everywhere together until the day he tells me his family is moving to another state. I can’t imagine life without Anthony. I hide my tears as best I can during our last couple of days together but when I get in bed at night, I know my eyes will never stop hurting. The day Anthony’s moving van pulls up to his front door I pretend to be sick. My mother has to force me to go outside to say goodbye. I feel like a traitor so quickly giving Anthony a hug while agreeing to visit him someday.
With enough time, I make a couple of new friends, although no one could replace Anthony. School work comes easy and before long I am accepted into Yale. No surprise that saying goodbye to my parents and sister when I head off to college feels like another major life crisis. Wasn’t until I meet my future wife that I start to feel normal again. She quickly becomes the love of my life and somehow I trust her when she says she will never leave me.
I revel in the joy of becoming a parent and all the good years that followed. It’s not until our little Missy reveals she is planning to move out-of-state that all of my Anthony memories flash back. I thought I had buried those emotions. But nothing has prepared me for where I am today sitting on our dock trying desperately to deal with the heart-wrenching loss of my best friend – my wife. I knew she was struggling with cancer but she was in survivor mode. Every time I asked her there was a quick reply about how well she was doing and “Praise be to God.” We often reminisced about the wonderful life we had together. I never knew how much she meant to me until today.
How can I ever say good-bye to anyone again?
LETTERS FROM JACK
Dear Bruno,
Do you still have an old teddy bear from when you were very young? I know that’s a really strange question but my explanation may help. It was only recently that I received a letter from a couple who said they were my first foster family. I knew I had bounced between many foster families growing up because my parents died when I was young. The letter included a photo of two boys holding teddy bears which I must admit has a striking resemblance to me. What I learned is that I have a younger brother, and we were separated after spending time together in their foster home. In thinking back, I remember crying hysterically the day when they told me Bruno would be leaving.
I’ve never forgotten you but never could find a way to connect. Then again, you may not have wanted to call me your brother. But every time I had to say goodbye to someone, that horrible night would come back to me.
Now that I’ve found you, I have a tremendous desire to lay my eyes on you once again. I also have a request. I’m asking you and three other special people in my life to help me identify my legacy. I need to know if my life mattered. Please send me your thoughts and then come to my 100th birthday party on May 22nd. I have a gift I desperately want to give you.
Sincerely,
Jack
ROSE
From a very young age, I knew I was adopted and often enjoyed hearing Mom tell the story of when I arrived how the social worker said she was the happiest mother she had ever seen. There weren’t a lot of details about how I became part of this very large and loving family. All I ever really knew was that someone gave birth to a baby girl and needed to find a permanent home for her. My Mom said she didn’t know anything about my birth parents but that I should be thankful they wanted the very best for me.
I thrived in kindergarten. On day one there were already three kids who asked to be my friend. I think it was the big red and white bow in my hair that reminded them of Minnie Mouse. And the teacher gave me a hug every morning as I entered the classroom.
Birthdays were always very special in my family. I could count on a homemade birthday cake with my favorite mint chocolate frosting, many choices of ice cream and presents galore. Having six brothers and sisters, it was hard to remember which gift came from which sibling. But I always remember there being one mysterious gift, and when I asked my Mom about it she said it appeared on our doorstep sometime during the previous night. Those gifts were always the most unusual items -- things like a smooth stone with the word happy engraved on it and Minnie Mouse ears. I often hid those strange gifts and saved them in my closet.
Perhaps it was those vivid Kindergarten memories that made me decide to become the teacher I am today. Watching my students color and paint with such great dedication makes me wonder if I have a few potential artists in my classroom.
A LETTER FROM JACK
Dear Rose,
I must begin by telling you that I know your birth father. While I realize this is shocking news, it’s the only way I knew you would read on.
There was a young man in his teens who fell for a beautiful girl in his neighborhood. They came from very different families. He led a rough life, although he was very good looking. She met him while riding the bus and found him interesting. One thing led to another until the day they found they were expecting a baby. While the girl’s family insisted on “giving up” the baby, your Dad wrestled with knowing he would never see his child again.
A few years later, after a tremendous amount of detective work, he found out where his daughter lived. He rented a small apartment in her neighborhood but vowed never to disrupt her life in any way. His only wish was for his little girl to be happy, and his only contact was anonymously leaving a birthday present on her doorstep each year.
Yes, I am your birthfather, and my name is Jack. For many years, my guilty feelings of having abandoned you took over my life. There never was a day when I didn’t pray for you, and now I would give anything to simply meet you. And I have one more birthday gift for you. It would please me immensely if you would come to my 100th birthday party on May 22nd. I also have a request. I’m asking you and three other special people to help me identify my legacy. I need to know if my life mattered. Please send me your thoughts and then come to celebrate my life.
Sincerely,
Jack
LUKE
While majoring in business at Notre Dame, I am often drawn into discussions around campus relating to philosophy. Sometimes joining the discussion group is Father Rob who has a keen sense of raising questions that don’t have easy answers.
When graduation rolls around, I am certain about wanting to establish a start-up business because I thrive on being challenged. However, I have no idea what type of product or service to provide. Then one day I happen to run into Father Rob who reminds me of my love for discussing spirituality. Soon I join a bible study group. Six years later, I have the honor of being known as Father Luke.
A priest’s life isn’t all about masses, confessions and conducting weddings. I really dislike asking for donations and too-frequent spaghetti dinners. Glad when someone suggests a new prisoner pen pal program. I figure if I am going to encourage others to sign up, I should lead by example. When I get the brief description of the guy I am to contact, I begin to question my ability to help someone who appears to have little interest in anything except getting out of prison.
Meanwhile I feel my life spiraling downward. Coming to church has lost its’ meaning and I really don’t know why. My days are constantly getting darker, and I don’t have the nerve to ask anyone for help. When I receive a letter from my pen pal prisoner telling me he is contemplating suicide, I feel the need to confess to him that the same thoughts are now crossing my mind. Then I get a letter from this unhappy stranger in prison who encourages me to think about the impact on my family if I choose to take my own life. After reflecting on the many times my family supported me growing up, I start to think that maybe I owe it to them to re-consider.
Perhaps I should focus on how I can also convince my pen pal to re-evaluate his life. I remember him writing about his passion for playing his flute before entering prison. So I try to encourage him to envision a life where he does what he enjoys. To my surprise, he decides to try doing just that. Maybe it was his feeling victorious when I told him after reading his letter I had re-considered taking my own life. Perhaps being a prisoner who saves the life of a priest is what got him going down a new path.
A LETTER FROM JACK
Dear Father Luke,
During my darkest days, never did I think I would experience happiness again, let alone live to be almost 100. I’m sure as a priest you’ve heard from many parishioners whose lives you have helped. You may not even remember a guy named Jack who sent you his sad story in a pen pal letter. But it was your admitting to your own devils that really helped me. By encouraging me not to give up my passion for playing the flute, you also saved my life.
I really hope you will allow me to thank you at my 100th birthday party on May 22nd. I also have a request. I’m asking you and three other special people to help me identify my legacy. I need to know if my life mattered. Please send me your thoughts. I also have a gift I very much want to give you.
Sincerely,
Jack
ANNA
Every autumn, I picked a place to visit where I had never been. It didn’t matter if my sister, daughter or friend wanted to go along. My “travel bug” revolves around finding secluded places where I can sit back, relax and journal about the people I encounter. Exploring local cafes and hiking trails are usually daily adventures.
On a rainy Tuesday morning, I dart into a tiny coffee shop. There I observe a rather weathered looking fellow slowly sipping a gigantic cup of coffee. I wonder if he’s a regular who lives in the nearby mountains. When he glances my way and asks how I’m doing, I take it as a clue that he might be open to sharing a bit about himself. “Do you know this area very well” I timidly ask. The old stranger nods. Perhaps this isn’t going to be a fruitful discussion, but worth one more try. “I’m hoping to do some hiking tomorrow and wondered if you had a suggestion” I try again. Sure, he says, “four miles down this road there’s an entrance to the Old Scenic Trail. If you take it all the way to the top early in the morning, you might hear a guy playing the flute. The birds seem to enjoy his music.”
I can’t wait for morning to roll around because I’ve been ready for a new adventure for a long time, and the Old Scenic Trail sounds like where I might find it. The uphill climb wears me out, so I stop for awhile and hear an unusual sound. Could it be the flute player? Determined not to give up, I lace up my hiking boots once again and follow the narrow path.
How could I have missed the deep hole that brought me face-first to the ground? Clumsy was not my middle name! But getting up was more difficult than I ever would have imagined. While contemplating what’s the difference between a broken ankle and a sprained one, I knew I couldn’t make it to the top of the mountain, and it would take all of my strength to get back to the start of the trail. That’s when I see the old guy who I met at the coffee shop approach me. I managed to downplay my pain and refused his kind offers to help. Then I was totally amazed when he pulled out his flute and began to serenade me. Just thinking about those majestic sounds is what distracted me from the excruciating pain of what turned out to be a broken ankle.
A LETTER FROM JACK
Dear Anna,
Can you possibly remember meeting an old guy at the Old Scenic Trail Coffee Shop about 30 years ago? He told you about a good hiking trail, and I am the flute player who often plays for the birds in the morning.
Before meeting you, I was ready to give up playing. It was extremely difficult with my very arthritic knees to climb that path each day. But when your eyes lit up hearing about your next adventure, I knew I couldn’t stop my mountain top serenades.
Because of you, I continue to play the flute which has been my one lifelong passion. I would like to play again for you and the three other special guests I have invited to my 100th birthday party on May 22nd. I also have a request. I’m asking each guest to help me identify my legacy. I need to know if my life mattered. Please send me your thoughts and come to celebrate my life.
I also have a gift I desperately want to give you.
Sincerely,
Jack
LEGACY IDEAS
During the next two months, Jack received legacy thoughts from each of his four special friends, and they’re all coming to his 100th birthday party!
Bruno:
I established a new organization and plan to make philanthropy part of our mission. We will give twin teddy bears to every kid who enters a foster home. Attached to each plush little bear will be a note that the bears are named Jack and Bruno, and they should never be separated.
Your legacy is bringing “happiness” to foster kids.
Rose’s Legacy Idea:
As a kindergarten teacher, I planned a project where my students created artwork to depict what kindness means to them. For an example, I told the class my story about how I received a surprise birthday gift each year from someone I didn’t know. One student, who showed unusual artistic talent, drew a picture of a guy named Jack and a happy birthday sparkling stone. Didn’t take long after my posting it on youtube for the story to go viral on social media. Then a well-known national nonprofit chose the image of you and my birthday surprise as their new logo to depict kindness.
Your legacy is teaching others to be kind.
Luke’s Legacy Idea:
I wrote a book titled “Friends Who Wish To Die.” It is currently awaiting publication with your photo featured on the cover.
Your legacy is saving lives through mental health awareness.
Anna’s Legacy Idea:
I had a son named Jack, who I encouraged to take flute lessons. Jack became an accomplished flute player. Together we often visit the Old Scenic Trail. Last year Jack was asked to perform at the first-ever mountain top concert.
Your legacy is majestic music being heard far and wide.
100th Birthday Party
When the group gathers on May 22nd, they are greeted by a woman named Jane who introduces herself as Jack’s caretaker for many years. Jane asks guests to be seated, and suddenly bursts into hysterical tears. She announces that Jack had a heart attack the previous evening, and he is no longer with us. However, she found a note on his bedside table this morning which she was asked to read. 457Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGwRFNHtGUM
457Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJUS7arrhww
Dear Jane, 457Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzcmTiB7JtS
I’ve been experiencing a lot of unusual pain during the last couple of days, and I’m starting to think that my time on this amazing earth is about up. If you are reading this note, know that I have moved on to meet my maker and have a huge favor to ask of you.457Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9Kh1iDG709
457Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDZlwPv54GU
Please go ahead with my birthday party as planned and share this message with my four wonderful guests.
Dear Friends,
First let me ask that any tears you shed for me are happy ones. I have many good memories and more importantly, because of you, I now know that my life mattered.
I was ecstatic when each of you responded to my birthday wish identifying the amazing things you did in my honor. I had spent many endless nights during the last couple of years wrestling with the thought of leaving this life without a purpose. Seeing your creativity and unbelievable acts of giving made me extremely proud of each of you.
Though I can never thank you enough, I hope to show my appreciation by reciprocating with a gesture that may impact your own legacy.
To Bruno – I hired a search firm to trace our roots. While we both bounced between foster homes, I learned we have two biological sisters who grew up in an orphanage. It was also revealed that my second foster Mom, who was an accomplished flutist, is our aunt. I’ve arranged for a gathering of you and your family along with our sisters at the home of our aunt in Vienna next December.
To Rose - When the nonprofit who chose your student’s drawing for their logo learned about the ways you introduced art to kindergarteners, they invited you to be their national spokesperson. You will soon be sharing your teaching techniques and scattering kindness across the country as well as in impoverished communities around the world.
To Luke – How do you thank someone who saved you from committing suicide? Impossible! That is, unless you find a way to save someone else. I must admit it took thousands of emails and one lucky phone call to Oprah Winfrey’s Assistant to begin the process. As luck would sort of have it, the Assistant’s brother was struggling with depression, so she read your book about “Friends Who Wish To Die.” Good news is that Oprah has offered to sponsor mental health support groups in every city where alcoholic anonymous groups already exist. She would like to call them “Father Luke’s Listening Groups.”
Congrats. on saving a few more souls!
To Anna – I sincerely hope your adventures never end. That may actually happen because your son has agreed to perform his unique musical compositions during a world-wide tour next year. His only condition is that you accompany him and do a duet of “Amazing Grace.”
Epilogue:
We’re at Jack’s funeral where each of the four special guests are asked to say just one word to describe Jack. They lovingly say goodbye to this remarkable man whose life had way more than one purpose. Smiles replace tears as they look into his casket where Happy is tucked under his arm.
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