Camp Daggett BlogThanks For Your Time…
A young man learns what’s most important in life from the guy next door.
It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself had gotten in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him or his ambitions.
Over the phone, his mother told him, “Mr. Belser died last night Jack. The funeral is Wednesday.” Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.
“Jack, did you hear me?....”
“Oh, yeah – sorry Mom. Yes, I heard you. It’s been so long since I thought of him. I’m sorry, but I honestly thought he passed away years ago,” Jack said.
“Well, he didn’t forget you. Every time I saw him he’d ask how you were doing. He’d reminisce about the many days you spent over on ‘his side of the fence’ as he put it,” Mom told him.
“I loved that old house he lived in,” Jack responded.
“You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man’s influence in your life,” she said.
“He’s the one who taught me carpentry,” he said. I wouldn’t be in this business if it wasn’t for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important….. Mom, I’ll be there for the funeral,” Jack stated.
As busy as he was, Jack kept his word. He caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser’s funeral was very small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had already passed away.
The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one last time.
Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time – the house was exactly as he remembered it. Every step held numerous memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture…… Jack stopped suddenly.
“What is wrong, Jack?” his Mom asked.
“The box is gone,” he said.
“What box?” Mom asked.
“There was a small box that he kept locked on top of his desk over there. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he’d ever tell me was ‘the thing I value most,’” Jack said.
It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for that box. He figured someone from the Belser Family had taken it.
“Now I will never know what was so valuable to him,” Jack said. “Well, I had better get some sleep. I have an early flight home tomorrow, Mom.”
It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser had died. Returning home from work one day, Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. The note read, “Signature required on a package. Nobody at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days.”
Early the next day, Jack went to the post office and retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked as if it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. “Mr. Harold Belser” it read.
Jack took the box out of his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box from the old house and an envelope. Jack’s hands shook as he read the note inside.
“Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It’s the thing I valued most in my life.” A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears welled in his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside of the box he found a beautiful gold pocket watch.
Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved:
“Jack, thanks for your time! – Harold Belser.”
Jack thought to himself, “The thing he valued most was…….. my time.”
Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. “Well, why do you want to do that?” Janet, his office assistant asked.
“I need to spend some time with my son,” he said.
“Oh, by the way Janet – thanks for your time!” he declared.
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So you see, “life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”
If you have someone special in your life, make the time to let them know how great they are.
“Thanks for your time…!” 
Yours in Service,
Brent A. Marlatt - Executive Director