Where To Slide That Dollar Bill
And now, one of my favorite stories of 2011. No, it isn’t about strippers.
Today, I’m going to tell just one yarn about one of my cousins. My cousin is the daughter of my Mom’s brother, my uncle.
My cousin came into his life via being birthed by his second or third or fourth wife. That I just wrote that many numbers hopefully demonstrates, without my delving into it, that my uncle was a character; that he had multiple wives (not simultaneously); and that her childhood did not always include the presence of her father, who she rightfully adored. My uncle was a charmer.
When my cousin was separated from her father, she missed him, and they were apart more than they were together. I’m not even sure my uncle always knew where she was. Anyone who’s been through divorce can appreciate how things can sometimes degrade to undesirable, even ugly, places.
After a particularly drawn out stretch of fractured longing, my cousin – then a little girl – decided to do something about her aching heart. She found a dollar bill, and she wrote a message on it, a note to her daddy asking him to find her. I think she even had the wisdom and maturity to include where she was. And, she signed it using her full name.
With a childish leap of faith, she spent that dollar bill. Maybe she bought candy, or a yo-yo. A meaningless thing that passed through her life, consumed in seconds and summarily forgotten. I don’t know if she spent that dollar and then waited for her daddy to find her. I like to imagine she did.
Sometime later, in another state, her daddy went to buy a pack of cigarettes or a candy bar. A fleeting, pointless thing. Instead, he counted his change and found a dollar bill. His daughter’s dollar bill, with her pleading message that carried the weight of her heartbreak within it.
Spurred on by the blazing lightning bolt from out of the blue, he found his precious daughter and forged a bond that I admired and sometimes envied. I cherish the one thing – a vase – that I know they picked out together for me, because it is the perfect representation of who they were united.
Is too much good luck just enough?