What's your most treasured possesion? Please share. 
Mine is described in the essay below. Feel free to comment and respond, but even if you don't read it, I'd like to know what your most treausred possesion is and why?
His name is Sam Written by TM
His name is Sam. He is a he only because about fifteen years ago when I received my precious gift I decided that the teddy bear was a boy. Looking at the bear now, it could just as well be a girl. Luckily, the name Sam fits for either. Sam stands, well actually sits, about a foot off the ground. He weighs no more than a pound and rattles when you shake him. His fur used to be much more yellow than it looks now. It has faded and dirtied over the years. A good scrubbing or trip inside the washing machine would do him some good. However, the dirt, the faded exterior, and the torn and ravaged fur stand as a great reminder of what the bear has been through. Ive had Sam for as long as I can remember. Hes been through uncounted surgeries at my side, and even at the side of a friend who lost her life to cancer.
He has brown eyes and a brown nose. Time and gravity have made it so that his back arches and his head now sits in a position similar to that of someone bowing their head to pray. There is little joy in his face. Instead it looks complacent, patient, and sometimes somber. If his paws touched he would look like a praying bear, but instead his arms are open like he is waiting for a big embrace and hug. When bought he probably cost no more than five dollars. Now I wouldnt trade him for any other possession or thing in this world. How does one gain such a respect and bond with a non-living thing? I couldnt begin to answer that. He has done little for me. He doesnt entertain me like a video game, doesnt enrich me like a book, and doesnt do my laundry like a washing machine. All Sam does is sit wherever I put him. His expression never changes and he never complains or breaks down or backfires. I couldnt ask for anything more.
As Im writing this Sam is sitting right beside my computer monitor. His usual place of rest, however, is on top of the television in my room. With his arched back and bowed head, his round face is looking down on me every time Im playing my Xbox or watching one of my favorite shows. No doubt he is thinking that I could find a better use of my time. If he had a voice Sam would tell me to get off my butt and go and do homework, or go find a date, or maybe the least I could do is dust of the top of the television so his own butt could be free of dust for once. Does he like it up there? I dont know. I dont think he does. I think he would prefer to be by someones side in the operating room or in the ICU. He would prefer watching-over patients and try to help them along their path of recovery.
As a young child I had quite a few teddy bears. My brother and sister were both older than me, and occasionally I would share my teddy bears. I never shared Sam, however. One night my brother stole him, or at least insisted that I share him. I remember having a huge argument over the ordeal. Eventually my mother stepped in and made sure that I had Sam safe in my arms. There was one person that I did share Sam with. Her name was Helen. Im saddened and sometimes frustrated that I remember so little about her, but approximately ten years ago she died of cancer. I even dont remember what kind. My memories of her contain the facts that she never smoke or drank, she traveled a lot, and she gave me a signed baseball bat from a professional major league baseball player. That bat happens to be my second most valued possession. I knew Helen because she was a good friend of my grandmother. Helen knew about my love affair with my bear and asked if she could borrow him when she had a surgery. I told her she could.
Whether or not the surgery was successful, I have no clue. Whether or not Helen had a good time with Sam, I also dont know. Looking back I realize that she probably took Sam along for her ride not only for herself, but also as a show of respect and admiration for myself. It has taken me a long time to figure out the meaning of the gesture, but its better late than never. I only wish she were alive now so that I could thank her not only for the bat she gave me, but also for the love she showed for me that I never quite understood at such a young age. She was a very special woman. Never complained, and despite her own medical conditions, she always inferred as to how I was doing. Many times when I look at Sam I think of her. Sam watched over us both at opposite ends of the spectrum. Helen saw Sam as she was nearing the end of her life, and I saw Sam when I was struggling to gain life. I see him now as I struggle to maintain the life that he watched me develop.
The other day a friend told me that she used to work for a charity. She said she liked it, but also said it was somewhat stupid. The reason? She handed out teddy bears to children at hospitals. She more cherished the time spent talking with them than the actual gift, but if the teddy bears she handed out had even half of the significance of the teddy bear I was given, she gave out gifts for a lifetime. Most of our treasured possessions arent things that cost millions or are things that are necessarily given to us by those we love. They are instead things that we find symbolic or are things that we have carried with us through thick and thin. They are the things we would hate to lose. Sams meaning to me lies in the fact that he was by my bedside when I was near death, but his meaning also lies in the fact that I can look at him today while Im healthy. I appreciated him back then, but I think I appreciate him more today.
Mine is described in the essay below. Feel free to comment and respond, but even if you don't read it, I'd like to know what your most treausred possesion is and why?
His name is Sam Written by TM
His name is Sam. He is a he only because about fifteen years ago when I received my precious gift I decided that the teddy bear was a boy. Looking at the bear now, it could just as well be a girl. Luckily, the name Sam fits for either. Sam stands, well actually sits, about a foot off the ground. He weighs no more than a pound and rattles when you shake him. His fur used to be much more yellow than it looks now. It has faded and dirtied over the years. A good scrubbing or trip inside the washing machine would do him some good. However, the dirt, the faded exterior, and the torn and ravaged fur stand as a great reminder of what the bear has been through. Ive had Sam for as long as I can remember. Hes been through uncounted surgeries at my side, and even at the side of a friend who lost her life to cancer.
He has brown eyes and a brown nose. Time and gravity have made it so that his back arches and his head now sits in a position similar to that of someone bowing their head to pray. There is little joy in his face. Instead it looks complacent, patient, and sometimes somber. If his paws touched he would look like a praying bear, but instead his arms are open like he is waiting for a big embrace and hug. When bought he probably cost no more than five dollars. Now I wouldnt trade him for any other possession or thing in this world. How does one gain such a respect and bond with a non-living thing? I couldnt begin to answer that. He has done little for me. He doesnt entertain me like a video game, doesnt enrich me like a book, and doesnt do my laundry like a washing machine. All Sam does is sit wherever I put him. His expression never changes and he never complains or breaks down or backfires. I couldnt ask for anything more.
As Im writing this Sam is sitting right beside my computer monitor. His usual place of rest, however, is on top of the television in my room. With his arched back and bowed head, his round face is looking down on me every time Im playing my Xbox or watching one of my favorite shows. No doubt he is thinking that I could find a better use of my time. If he had a voice Sam would tell me to get off my butt and go and do homework, or go find a date, or maybe the least I could do is dust of the top of the television so his own butt could be free of dust for once. Does he like it up there? I dont know. I dont think he does. I think he would prefer to be by someones side in the operating room or in the ICU. He would prefer watching-over patients and try to help them along their path of recovery.
As a young child I had quite a few teddy bears. My brother and sister were both older than me, and occasionally I would share my teddy bears. I never shared Sam, however. One night my brother stole him, or at least insisted that I share him. I remember having a huge argument over the ordeal. Eventually my mother stepped in and made sure that I had Sam safe in my arms. There was one person that I did share Sam with. Her name was Helen. Im saddened and sometimes frustrated that I remember so little about her, but approximately ten years ago she died of cancer. I even dont remember what kind. My memories of her contain the facts that she never smoke or drank, she traveled a lot, and she gave me a signed baseball bat from a professional major league baseball player. That bat happens to be my second most valued possession. I knew Helen because she was a good friend of my grandmother. Helen knew about my love affair with my bear and asked if she could borrow him when she had a surgery. I told her she could.
Whether or not the surgery was successful, I have no clue. Whether or not Helen had a good time with Sam, I also dont know. Looking back I realize that she probably took Sam along for her ride not only for herself, but also as a show of respect and admiration for myself. It has taken me a long time to figure out the meaning of the gesture, but its better late than never. I only wish she were alive now so that I could thank her not only for the bat she gave me, but also for the love she showed for me that I never quite understood at such a young age. She was a very special woman. Never complained, and despite her own medical conditions, she always inferred as to how I was doing. Many times when I look at Sam I think of her. Sam watched over us both at opposite ends of the spectrum. Helen saw Sam as she was nearing the end of her life, and I saw Sam when I was struggling to gain life. I see him now as I struggle to maintain the life that he watched me develop.
The other day a friend told me that she used to work for a charity. She said she liked it, but also said it was somewhat stupid. The reason? She handed out teddy bears to children at hospitals. She more cherished the time spent talking with them than the actual gift, but if the teddy bears she handed out had even half of the significance of the teddy bear I was given, she gave out gifts for a lifetime. Most of our treasured possessions arent things that cost millions or are things that are necessarily given to us by those we love. They are instead things that we find symbolic or are things that we have carried with us through thick and thin. They are the things we would hate to lose. Sams meaning to me lies in the fact that he was by my bedside when I was near death, but his meaning also lies in the fact that I can look at him today while Im healthy. I appreciated him back then, but I think I appreciate him more today.
A dream come true for me.
The value of this item of course sentimenal value. That bear has stuck by you thick and thin. I do not value possession to highly. I could say that there is one thing that I highly falue and that is my family. I am talking about my cousins included. My family is very close. I think that is what is needed in society today, close knit families.
