Little Units of Life

Impending summer has a smell. For some, it’s the briny scent of the ocean, for me it’s the chlorinated smell of a pool. When I was younger, I looked forward to swimming in the pool and eating nachos from the snack bar all summer. 

The summer before my freshman year in high school, there was one day when instead of swimming, my friends and I spent the day helping my brother look for some fancy baseball cards in our jam-packed storage unit. He promised to take us to the arcade and the carnival, so we readily agreed.

I remember that day vividly—

“I think my foot is stuck,” I said as I battled a worn cardboard box that sank in as soon as I stood on the structure. I was beating my chest like King Kong when suddenly I was weightless as I fell into the wimpy box. 

The box held old clothes. As I repeatedly moved my knee upward trying to get loose, it felt like something was attempting to suction my shoe off. Neil and James each grabbed one of my arms and pulled. I tumbled and fell onto another row of boxes thankfully stacked to the ceiling and leaning against the storage wall. 

“You lost your shoe,” Neil said, “and you have a hole in your sock.” He stood pointing at my dingy white sock. I looked down to see my holey socks staring back at me. “These are my favorite socks, I never wash them!” I laughed as I wiggled my toes.

“Here ya go,” James said as he handed me my other shoe. “You guys stop goofing off, and Matt, hurry up,” Mike, my big brother said. He’s always bossing me around, even now when my friends and I are doing him a favor.

I wanted to play my hand and tell him we were doing him a favor, not the other way around. “I found something,” James shouted. We all rushed over to the open cardboard box full of shiny gold bars. “Wow!” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A box full of gold bars. 

“I wonder if it’s real gold?” Neil said, his eyes wide with wonder. “You know it is,” Mike said. But don’t touch it. We’re looking for baseball cards, remember?” 

“Can we just take one?” I pleaded with my brother, “It could be our payment.” I looked at the other guys who were both eagerly nodding their heads in agreement. “Nope, we already made an agreement. I’m driving you guys to the arcade and the carnival on Friday. We shook on it, so it’s done.” He closed the box, ending the conversation and dismissing us.

It was worth a shot. My shoulders slumped, and I returned to looking through the boxes for the baseball card collection. My friends were just as disappointed and I could tell some steam had left them as they moved as slow as molasses toward other boxes.

We had until nightfall to find those cards. Our parents were out of town but would be back soon. Mike stole the keys from their bedroom to get access to the storage unit. While our home was clean and tidy, since mom was a housewife, all of our possessions, memorabilia, and winter clothes were kept here in our storage unit and rotated each season.

I could barely breathe because of the dust on some boxes. They’d definitely been in here longer than one season. It felt crowded and like being on an airplane I wondered if the air was recirculating. It was humid. 

We all wore short-sleeved t-shirts and blue jeans rolled up at the ends. It was the fashion. Girls loved it.

The next day we sat at the table having dinner. Pa prayed over our Sunday dinner and Mom started serving everyone. She served my plate last, but I didn’t mind because she made pot roast, my favorite, and she always gave me extra potatoes. 

“Is that enough,” she smiled at me. 

“Yes ma’am. Thank you” I said, smiling back. 

My pa was always on us about treating ladies right and using manners when speaking. He was an officer in the US Navy and expected discipline and order from everyone. 

We ate at the table, discussing the sermon and Pa wanted to know what we did while he and Ma were gone.

A knock sounded at the door and Ma placed her utensils on her plate and placed her napkin in her chair. She told us that meant she was coming back.

"James and Neil are at the door," Ma said.

“Pa–I mean, sir, may I go play with James and Neil,” I asked hoping for a yes.

“Yes you may,” Pa said. 

I shot up, putting my napkin and fork on the plate. “May I be excused?”

“After you’ve put your plate in the kitchen,” Ma said, “And don’t forget to change out of your church clothes”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, moving as fast as my feet would carry me without seeming unruly to my father.

“So how are those college applications coming along,” I heard him say to my brother as I moved out of earshot. Quickly I changed out of my church clothes and into my outdoor clothes. James and Neil were waiting on the porch swing when I came out.

We all ran over to the park where we usually hung out. James’ pa was Mr. Robertson. He’s a preacher, and he gave the sermon today at church. Pa said his official title is chaplain. He's also Pa's best friend in the Navy. 

James and his family transferred to the base and moved into base housing the same week as us. We attended the same school too. Neil’s family was here for a year before us.

Pa says I can’t play with Neil unless James is there too. Something about his pa not being an officer and something called fraternization. I don’t know, grown-up stuff. But Neil is the ginchiest.

He has a collection of Matchbox cars and sometimes he brings out his skateboard so we can ride down the hill. 

I haven’t done it since the last time though. Mike caught me and said he’d tell Pa unless I did his chores for two weeks. That's typical Mike. He's always acting like a tough guy.

Debbie is James' younger sister by one year. She's pretty. I'd never seen anyone like her before. She plays the most beautiful music on the piano at church. 

I'm always awkward around her but I don't think she notices. The week of the 8th-grade graduation dance, I discovered that Jerry Miller likes her too. He knows how to play drums, so I don't stand a chance. Debbie always avoids me when I try to get anywhere close to her and Jerry told me he's going to ask her to dance with him at the 8th-grade graduation dance. 

"Matt, come on!" James yells and I realize I've fallen behind thinking too much about Debbie. He and Neil are 50 feet ahead, at the boundary of the park. Today, Neil has a baseball mitt and James has a baseball and bat. 

We play catch and run into the outfield to catch the ball. It's fun until I hit a fly ball and it breaks the Robertson family's upstairs window. I'm mortified. My pa is going to be so angry. I can't let him find out.

"I'll say I did it," James says, hoping to lessen any potential consequences with his father by being his son. If I've learned anything from my father, it's that being his son, I don't get any special treatment. In fact, I think he's harder on Mike and me than kids that aren't his own. I wince at the thought of what awaits me.

Finally, I march home to tell my parents what happened. James and Neil head home too. Next thing I know Mr. Robertson walks across the street to our house and knocks on the door. 

He and Pa shake hands and stand talking for a few minutes. At the end of the conversation, they're laughing. Pa is patting Mr. Robertson on the back. Mr. Robertson says, "I'm going to hold you to it," and leaves the house smiling. I see James waiting on the porch and he just shrugs his shoulders like he doesn't know what's going on. 

When the door closes Pa is a different man. No longer laughing he bears a serious expression on his face. 

"Matthew Levi Jacobson, you're lucky Mr. Robertson and I are such good friends otherwise you'd be in hot water. You know you're not allowed to play ball in the neighborhood. You boys go out to the field next time."

"Yes, sir," I say, not knowing what else to say.

"Mr. Robertson and I made a deal. You're going to help him clean out his garage and we'll call it even." He looked at me with his piercing blue gaze and dared me to contradict him.

"Yes, sir" I responded, standing tall even though I felt withered up like a dead plant.

That summer, as I cleaned out the Robertsons' garage I didn't realize that James was going to help me. Debbie came out a couple of times to bring us lemonade and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. 

Debbie and I talked and learned a lot about each other. That year when Jerry Miller asked her to dance she said she was not much of a dancer. When I asked her to dance she said, "I'd love to."

She was the first girl I ever danced with, besides my ma, she doesn't count. Debbie looked so beautiful in her pale blue dress with frills and lace. Like a princess.

After the dance, she leaned over and kissed me on my cheek. I did everything I could not to turn red, but it was too late. I was blushing.

I think back to that time with fond memories. Life was simpler then, even though I swore it wasn't. "Today, we've been married forty years and I wouldn't want to do this thing called life with anyone else." I beamed looking at my beautiful bride after retelling our story on the recorded TV special about the key to longevity in marriage.

"Be friends and be each other's number one fan," I said affectionately. Debbie said, “be willing to open your heart and forgive often.”

“Sir, I have to ask, whatever happened to the baseball cards in the jam-packed storage unit? Did you ever find the cards? If so, what was done with them?” the interviewer asked.

“Well, that’s a lot to unpack. We didn’t find the cards, but we found out what was done with them,” I said cryptically. “My father was a very smart man. I didn’t give him half the credit he deserved but after he passed, my brother and I discovered that he auctioned the cards off to a bidder for 5 million dollars. 

You see, we were just kids. We knew the cards were worth something, but we didn’t know how much. I just wanted bubble gum, candy, and stuff that would rot my teeth. My brother wanted a fancy car to impress girls. Neither one of us could see beyond our selfish ambitions. 

My father did.

He saw to his grandchildren’s children. He planned for generations to be blessed and he divided the five million dollars equally between my brother and me and put the money into a trust. 

We were both able to buy houses, bless others and give more. Since we had so much, we wanted to bless others. There’s a huge housing crisis,” I mentioned. 

“We started a non-profit in honor of our parents, that would bless newlyweds with a home. Nowadays, most people can’t afford a nice home that affords them the luxury of growing a large family. 

We wanted to give that dream back to people.

We wanted to give them a fresh start to their future when they got married. Some celebrities and other philanthropists helped, and the rest is history. We’ve been doing that for 19 years,” 

“Twenty,” Debbie chimed in.

“Twenty years now. See that’s why she’s the boss. She’s our accountant. Well, she was, but she’s retired now and passed the torch to our second son and my brother’s second child, who both took an interest in numbers.” 

“It sounds like your father was a wise man,” the interviewer beamed with admiration.

“That’s kind of you to say and yes, he was. He was a man of discipline and order but he had the biggest heart. He had one of the biggest retirement ceremonies I’ve ever seen a General have and when he passed, the service was even bigger. 

So many people loved him. My mother and our family were shocked to see how many people showed up. Mr. Robertson, my father-in-law, and my father’s best friend performed the homegoing ceremony. 

They’ve both gone on before us. We’ll catch up with them soon enough. I’m enjoying getting to spoil my mother and mother-in-law. They’re both angels. Wonderful women.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Jacobson. It has been a pleasure speaking with you and your lovely wife. Again, congratulations on forty years together.” He beamed with respect and admiration.

He shook my hand and Debbie’s hand. We both stood and left the hotel ballroom where the recording and interviews were taking place.

"Do you want to go out for dinner to celebrate?" She looked at me with hope.

"Let's go home," I said.

"Ok, sounds good," she agreed.

When we arrived home, they surprised her when we opened the door. Our four children, their spouses, and our grandkids are present. My brother Mike and his wife, their kids, and grandkids are present. We stay up partying way past our bedtime, and we feel like kids again. 

"You make me feel seen, and feel alive," Debbie said.

"You feel like home, you always have," I said embracing my soulmate.