"Sir, Jamie means in no way to condemn. I am certain his father did not intentionally reverse his priorities. He probably thought he was doing right." The judge slowly raised his head. "Son," he said, "I'm not going to send you to prison. I can't. It wouldn't be right. I feel I should be merciful. I will grant probation on one condition: that you and your dad spend at least four hours together each week for the next two years. Son, you need to know your father. He’s a fine man. He needs too impart some of himself to his son. This process takes time. This court order will give you both an opportunity to develop a relationship, for you see, son, your father needs you as much as you need him.”
Because of our love for our friend Jamie, and a similar experience in our own family, we were temporarily awakened to the importance of family priorities. Even so, we soon found ourselves dreaming again about more possessions.
For example, I looked back at some goals I had written down. They were written while I was taking a course where we were taught how to set dream goals. First, we learned to make out a dream list. Later in the course, many of us had learned how to set short range, long range; tangible and intangible goals, My own master dream list included some things I wanted -- $100,000 a year salary; a yacht to sleep six; a house on the lake; money for college for five; money for parents; a Mercedes Benz car paid for; a three carat diamond ring; diamond pin, earrings, and pendant; all the money I could spend; a trip around the world; tennis lessons and court; the ability to speak seven languages.
By keeping my goals in front of me, I was able to zero in on them daily, I had been able to achieve some of them. But it seemed after we did realize the goals, we were still not satisfied. After getting the new Mercedes, that really didn’t matter any more, a white mink coat – what did that matter?
It was never over. One day at a church fellowship I said to one of my friends, “Oh, you have on a new diamond necklace and earrings.”
“Oh yes, we are investing our money in diamonds now. It’s a hedge against inflation.” What did I do, but go and get a BIGGER diamond than she had! And actually, having the bigger one brought me no more happiness. My “things” weren’t bringing me any happiness. But I couldn’t stop.
I read about diamonds, art, and antiques and learned the “authorities” advised people “in these tumultuous” times to hold a significant percentage of wealth in the form of real, intrinsically valuable commodities. They presented as safe a haven as possible against the risk of inflation and offered protection against other risks as well. We would own art, antiques, land, and diamonds, and these possessions would surely be the answer to all our ills. We bought almost anything that came along which promised a profit. Some investments, like an interest in a rocket car designed to break the sound barrier on land at the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah, and interest in land development near a highway that was never built, have never yielded a return on our investment. But we plodded on.
Was it possible we really needed to set goals AND priorities? When we talked with Jamie’s father, we asked if he had a priority list.
“NO,” he said, "I just assumed I was heading in the right direction. I didn't have a priority list. I am a goal achiever - sell this, buy that, accumulate and accumulate. I know sometimes my family would ask me to participate in a sports activity at school, or my wife would ask me to go to PTA, and I would say 'No, I really don't have time tonight.' I really had not stopped to think about all of the time I was using in accumulating possessions and how this was keeping me from the very people I was supposed to be accumulating them for."
Delphia Frazier Smith, an author whom I had interviewed several times on TV, wrote a book called Along Life's Way. She said, "Happiness is not what we should search for; instead search for joy. Joy comes from within, while happiness is external."
One of the most beautiful human beings whom I count as a friend is Helen Steiner Rice, though I've met her only through her writings. Perhaps she would agree with me when I express the emptiness of the search for possessions. Mrs. Rice was widowed after two years of marriage when her husband tragically took his life when the stock market crashed.
He had left her a note containing one of her latest books, Heart Gifts, a special collection of poems and a pen portrait of Mrs. Rice as a person.
Her husband was a very wealthy man who owned all the possessions life has to offer. However, he lost everything in the stock market failure. One morning she woke up to find him gone.
She did find the note he had left behind:
Darling,
The only thing I'm sorry about is that I never could give you all the things I meant to. I hope you believe that I really wanted to give them to you, and I could have given them to you before everything went.... You'll always go on. I only knew one world. I just can't go down and become a bum--I have to go out with the bands playing.”
Of course, after her husband's tragic death, she was able to go on. She writes that only in later years was she able to understand why she had to lose him so tragically. Ironically, she said the night before they were married she had told him this story of a young girl:
She stood at the edge of a field of waving corn--a beautiful field, where every stalk was tall and green and luxuriant and every ear was perfect. And the farther the girl could see into the field, the larger the ears became.
A genie told the girl, "If you walk through this field, I will reward you with a gift in proportion to the size of the ear you select. There is only one restriction.
You must start right where you are standing, and you may go through the field only once. You may not retrace your steps. The ear of corn you bring out will determine the reward you will receive on the other side of the field.”
The girl was supremely happy as she started into the field. Carelessly she trod on many of the stalks, thinking to herself: I won’t take any of these, for in the center of the field they are bigger. I want the biggest reward I can get.
The girl ran on and on, intent on finding the largest ear in the field. Suddenly she realized that the corn stalks were getting smaller and thinner, she looked for a good ear, but she could not bring herself to pick any of those in sight. She kept thinking, There’s got to be another big ear before the end. But there was not. She came out of the field empty-handed.
Was I like the girl in the cornfield, always looking for something bigger and better? The happiness myth had me intoxicated. It says that if I have it--the car; the home; the status paycheck; a store-window spouse; the high-ranking hubby--I am happy. Does it make an idol out of a living standard? I knew I was worshipping something. I knew my worship was skidding me downhill faster than a toboggan. It was so hard to get off so I tried to live it out, live it up, and make it work. I traded status symbols like I traded green stamps for prizes. I went along with the crowd no matter where the crowd was headed—if anywhere. I lived out the lies of a marriage no matter what, no matter why. Yet the one question I could never stop to ask myself was WHY? How could I have asked? There isn’t an answer--not for selling my soul to a living standard. Not for making a god out of a supercharged way of life.
Wealth addiction expressed itself through possessions. I wanted something before someone else got it or before it got more expensive or was gone altogether. I was clinging to something I was afraid would be taken away. This was my way of life. But I began to ask myself how much enjoyment these “things” were bringing. How much time did we spend protecting or insuring them against loss or worrying about someone stealing them?
My preoccupation with possessions had distracted me from the simple pleasures I used to enjoy. I came to this realization when I visited a dear friend who has been hospitalized with multiple sclerosis, and her husband shared with me his own new awareness and appreciation of the simple joys in life—like being able to brush his own teeth and to walk outside at night to look up at the stars. Was there any hope