Sunday, March 23, 2008

Memory of my Heart

When I was a little girl my parents rented the house we lived in and the owner of the house was an elderly man by the name of Felix Hart. Mr. Hart came to visit us a lot. He and my father would sit outside under the pecan trees in lawn chairs and solve all the world's problems.

I'd sometimes listen to the discussions, not understanding much but as a five year old I loved the sound of their voices as they passionately talked about this or that.

The special thing about him was that he never ignored me and always had a dime in his pocket that he'd hand me right before he'd leave. (Believe it or not, 45 years ago a dime would buy an ice cream cone at the drugstore.)

He always made me feel important and he was always very attentive to what I had to say. He was the kindest man I had ever met at that time. For some reason I never called him Mr. Hart or as it the custom down south, I never called him Mr. Felix either. I simply called him Hart.

Years later I realized I thought for the longest time his name was Heart. And maybe that's why I always just called him that because that was what I thought he was, a nice man that had such a big heart that was what his name should have been. It fit and it made since. And it is in my heart where his memory lives, even after all these years.

We lived in that house for a few more years and then moved and lost touch with Mr. Hart.
Isn't it funny he made such an impression on me at the age of five that I will never forget him?

3 comments:

Marcie said...

I love that story Robbin. What a special memory. I think I like it most because there isn't one big thing that makes him stick in your memory... It's about the little things... being kind, listening to a child. The ordinary moments, quiet little joys, are some of the best moments in life!

Robbin said...

Hi Aisling, it makes you realize that you can make an impression on a child that might stay with them a lifetime. A positive impression or a negative one.

Marcie said...

Robbin, Exactly. I work at a school so I hope I have learned the art of making each child feel special and important. I do try. It's my own kids, who sometimes hear me angry or frustrated or overwhelmed that I worry about. I hope the loving moments outweigh the less positive moments in the grand scheme of things.