(First Published-Duluth News-Tribune 6/18/2010)

Jim Olson

Carefully displayed on a fine necklace kept by my oldest daughter is a ring lovingly handcrafted out of the pit of peach.  In the basement of our home is a small Formica topped play table, not purchased but preciously constructed from items on hand.  These objects are a reminder to me of simple acts of pure love.  A reminder that as time slips by, we lose first minutes, then a lifetime of opportunity in expressing the love that fills our hearts.

The items above were not my creations, but rather they arrived at our house as the result of the tender efforts of my father and father-in-law.  These two giants in my life were different beyond words, yet more like each other than anyone could imagine.  Working non-stop throughout their lives, they let their hearts lead in the precious few moments of their spare time.

My father was a jack of all trades who had the gift of creating with his hands that which he desired.  As a child, I would awake, go down to the breakfast table, and there, placed on the counter for my siblings and I would be polished and lacquered rings for each of us.  Made from peach pits, they were uniquely beautiful.  They were rich and ornate, but most importantly, they were made by dad’s loving hands not because we asked, but out of love. Somehow, dad would manage to sneak away and with quiet enjoyment, he produced these treasures. I never once saw him in the process of making these rings and sadly, I have come to realize I took them for granted.  We would put those rings on our small fingers and dad would smile as he carefully filed and sized the rings as needed. Completing the task, he would return to his busy world, and we would wear his love on our hands.

My father-in-law was the first to admit that his talents did not run to the mechanical or handcrafted genre, thus making his gifts of personal creation more than special.  I will not forget his unannounced arrival one day at our house, I watched from the window as he pulled from the trunk of his car a small table top and four legs. He seemed almost embarrassed as he found my young daughters and presented them with this small play table which he had meticulously constructed from leftover materials.  Cut, drilled, sanded, and with legs mounted, I knew he had worked with a smile on his face.  On the bottom was a small piece of paper with the date and pronouncing the table as a gift from Grandpa.

Not until recently did the long past delivery of these gifts to my daughters make me realize I had rarely created for them items that I could only hope they would see often enough to take for granted.  I realized that I had nothing in-kind to pass on to them.  I had never asked my father in his lifetime to show me the process of creating the special rings and I now reflect on the missed opportunity to have worked by his side in learning something special to pass on and on.

I have taken a page from my father and father-in-laws life, and having taught myself the art of the peach pit ring, I will casually take my daughters aside and teach them in turn.  I will do this to motivate myself, and perhaps them later in life, to take spare moments and pass on heartfelt warmth through simple works of art, and acts of love.