The Incredible Revelation

In my inaugural postcard here two weeks ago, I said I would share the first story I remember writing, The Incredible Revelation. It is featured below. It survives because of the generous support it received from my seventh-grade English teacher, Ms. Persons. (And my mother, it should be said.) Every 12-year-old should be so lucky to have that sort of boost in life.

The Incredible Revelation is part of a collection of other things I have carried with me through many chapters of life. They are in a leather box on top of my bureau. The box has survived dorm rooms, bachelor pads, numerous moves, children, and, so far, grandchildren. Sadly, the box is deteriorating. I have allowed it to dry out over the years, unfortunately.

There are no rules for how things win entry into the box. My Great Aunt handed out First Day of Issue stamps as birthday presents. They went into the box. One stamp commemorates 100 years of Intercollegiate Football (September 26, 1969). I wonder if it is worth anything more than the six cents now that it is over 50?

There is a zippo lighter given to me by my maternal grandmother engraved GJC from COG. GJC is me. COG refers to Cross Old Gamper, a nickname we gave to my grandmother without cause, I assure you. She was never cross.

A letter from my paternal grandfather is tucked in an envelope postmarked on August 27, 1957, eight days after I was born. It contains a few prescriptions for life. At the time, he was two years younger than I am now! Also in the box is a letter he wrote in 1913, while at the Choate School, to his father. That document is 109 years old.

I have a picture of my first wife taken while at college and a book of matches from our honeymoon. There is also a letter from her father, which he wrote me shortly after we were married. The marriage did not last, but essential parts did, as they will forever.

There is a red paper heart inscribed by my wife of nearly 29 years, "I think you are magnificent." I found it after opening my suitcase on arrival in London, where I had gone to meet with investors after a dreadful start in our first year as a public company. It was a long week, but it helped to know I had her heart in my pocket.

To be clear, I did not have the dream described in The Incredible Revelation. I dreamt up the idea, responding to something my mother had said. My paternal grandmother read it and suggested I might be nuts. She got over that worry. We parted the very closest of friends when she died, which was April 26, 1995. The parking lot receipt from the hospital that day is in my leather box.