Life By The Slice, The column - observations on life, relationships and humanity - sometimes humorous, sometimes serious, always from the heart.

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RELEASED JANUARY 20, 2004

A Wooden Block Worth its Weight in Gold

Five years ago, a co-worker invited me to her home for a visit. I admired her extensive collection of what's referred to as The Cat's Meow collectibles. They're thin wooden blocks, hand painted, numbered and signed by the artist. Each one replicates historic or memorable locales.

Within her display, was the Blossom Dairy Company's storefront. The Blossom used to be an ice cream parlor and soda fountain kind of place and is now a restaurant, but its exterior looks much the same as it did over 50 years ago. I told her a bit about the history of the Blossom as it pertains to my family, specifically my mother.

When I went through my purse the next day, I found the collectible stashed there. When I called her to object, she insisted I keep it.

She was kind enough to quietly give me a token of something that held a huge bit of history for my family and me. I've kept it within view the past five years, wherever I've lived, as a reminder of how the course of life can be changed in an instant.

You see, my mama, at the age of three went with her father to the Blossom for a treat. After they were settled at the table with their ice cream, he stood and told her he'd be back. Only it wasn't to be so. He never returned.

She ended up in a child shelter and was adopted by a couple, my grandparents, who loved and reared her. As an adult, Mom located and contacted her biological mother and learned her father had passed away years before. To this day, some of the details of the events remain hazy for her. Maybe pain has a way of blocking horrible memories. Regardless, my mama has told me of the loss she's felt that influenced her life. Which influenced my daughter's lives and mine.

Exact details aside, I try to imagine the people involved in her life from the moment she was abandoned until she was adopted. The employees or owner of the Blossom Dairy must have taken some kind of action. The police or child social workers must have searched for her parents. The people at the shelter who took care of her and found her a new home -- every action taken by these strangers were acts of kindness borne from a terrible tragedy. A tragedy set in motion amidst the innocence of ice cream and the shattered trust felt by a three-year-old child.

We'll probably never learn the reasons my maternal grandfather chose to abandon his daughter at the Blossom Dairy. And as much as I'd like to know, the knowledge wouldn't change the facts. Those facts being that while my mother was abandoned in the truest sense of the word, she was ultimately adopted and loved and became the wonderful person she is today.

So, you might think the wooden token of the Blossom Dairy Company, perched in my windowsill is a reminder of tragedy. It's not. To me, it represents the kindness of strangers and how tragedy can turn into triumph.

My mama is living proof.