Bundle of drawers
Chicago, Illinois. On a November morning, Kevin Bennett was cleaning out his father Harold’s study. He was in the process of sorting through the belongings of Harold, who passed away peacefully last month at the age of 79, when he opened the bottom drawer of his desk to reveal a bundle of papers bound together with rubber bands. I thought it was a letter, but it was not. They were lottery tickets. A large number of tickets, all of them winning, were lying there unnoticed. I picked up one ticket and checked the amount: $500. The next was $200, and the next was a whopping $50,000. Kevin stood there for a long time, speechless.
Not redeemed
Kevin spread all the tickets out on his desk and added up the amounts of each ticket. The more than one hundred tickets totaled over $300,000, but none of them were marked for redemption, and all were past their expiration dates. As I clutched the bundle in my trembling hands, muttering, “Why didn’t you redeem it ……,” my wife Sarah came up next to me and said quietly, “Dad, you weren’t hurting for money. That’s true. But even if he wasn’t hurting for money, why did he intentionally forsake $300,000 in winnings over the course of three decades? Kevin still could not answer that question.
Common features of the number
Kevin carefully checked each ticket and wrote down the winning number. Soon, he noticed that the same numbers were repeated. 07-23, 03-14, 11-07 – something stuck, and after thinking about it for a while, it hit him: 07-23 was July 23, his mother Helen’s birthday; 03-14 was March 14, his parents’ wedding anniversary. And 11-07, November 7, was the day my mother Helen died. My hands stopped. All of the over one hundred tickets had Helen’s date inscribed on them. Was this not a coincidence, or was this a number that my father kept deliberately choosing?
Cafeteria Encounter
In the spring of 1968, Harold was twenty-three years old and working in a factory in Chicago. During his lunch break, he made it a habit to go to the cafeteria near the factory and eat lunch at the same time and at the same table. The waitress at the diner was Helen, and she always took Harold to the table closest to the window. I asked her, “How did you know?” Helen answered simply, “Because he always turned his head that way. With that comment, Harold knew he wanted to be around her. From then on, he went to the diner every day, not only for lunch, but also to see Helen.
March 14
After two years of dating, they were married on March 14, 1970. Helen was the one who decided on the date, saying, “It just sounded good,” but when Harold asked her again, “What did you really want?” Harold asked her again, and she answered with some embarrassment, “I wanted it to be at the beginning of spring. The ceremony was small, and the cake Helen had baked herself was slightly tilted, but sweet. For the next forty-two years, Harold always sent flowers to Helen on March 14. Each time he gave them, Helen looked happy, and even though it became the norm, the day remained special to Harold.
Birth of a son
When their son Kevin was born the year after their marriage, Harold began attending night school while continuing to work at the factory. Helen continued to insist that his current job was respectable, but Harold took three years to qualify as an accountant and began working for a firm. I wanted to show you,” Harold replied to Helen, smiling, “You’re the kind of person who does what you say you’re going to do. Helen still spoke those words many years later. I love those words more than anything else you’ve said to me. There was a history of words piled up between the two of them.
First one
In 1985, Harold was invited by a co-worker to buy just one lottery ticket for the first time. The result was a flop, and that was all that mattered. On his way home, however, as he casually looked at the numbers in the show window of the ticket booth, it occurred to him that it was July 23–Helen’s birthday. I turned back and bought one ticket with that number, and I won, albeit for a small amount. Perhaps it was a coincidence. But from that moment on, the lottery was no longer just a bet for Harold.
First Report
When I showed Helen the winning $500 ticket at the dinner table and reported, “I won it on your birthday,” she laughed and said, “Then why don’t you keep buying it with that number until you win it?” Helen joked, “Well, why don’t you just keep buying that number until you win it? When Harold replied, “I like that,” Helen laughed back, “You can’t be serious,” but Harold didn’t laugh. The next week, he started buying every week with Helen’s birthday and wedding anniversary numbers. How much did Helen know about this?
Forty Years of Habits
From then on, Harold continued to go to the same sales floor every week, without fail, with the same number. The familiar clerk would say, “You’re back again,” and it became a habit for him to buy four or five tickets combining Helen’s number and the anniversary number. The week I won, I would report it to Helen at the dinner table, and each time I said, “I won $300 this week,” she would ask, “Did you redeem it?” “Of course,” Harold replied. Of course,” Harold replied. It was true. It had always been true, until that day when Helen was still alive.
Helen’s disease
In the spring of 2001, Helen complained of something wrong with her body, and after tests, she received a notice that she had breast cancer. That day, Harold continued to hold Helen’s hand in the hospital hallway, unable to say anything. Helen was also silent. After a while, it was Helen who broke the silence and said, “Keep playing, lottery. Her words were gentle, “If you win with my number, let me know,” but to what extent did Harold take the weight of those words?
Three years of treatment
Helen underwent anti-cancer treatments, her hair fell out, and her body became thinner. Still, her smile remained the same, and whenever Harold reported, “I won fifty dollars this week on your birthday number,” she laughed back, “I won again this week.” It was a meaningful joke that only the two of them understood, and Kevin smiled as he watched next to him, but he didn’t even know what the number meant. There is a language in parental conversations that children cannot reach, and in that language Harold and Helen continued to speak as they had for three years.
Final Report
On November 7, 2003, Helen passed away at the age of sixty-one. Harold was by her side. There was a lottery ticket for that week by her bedside, and to Helen, who was no longer able to hear, Harold said, “I won again this week. Three hundred dollars, won with your number,” and placed the ticket near her hand. Night fell and Harold put the ticket in the drawer the next morning. He did not redeem it. After that ticket, had something quietly changed in Harold, 돌이킬 수 없이?
Graveside report
The following week, Harold continued to buy lottery tickets but never cashed them in. Every time he won, he went to a cemetery outside Chicago, showed the ticket in front of Helen’s grave, said, “I won again this week,” and that was it. The ticket was stored in a drawer. Kevin knew that his father visited the cemetery every week, but he didn’t know all along that he had brought his lottery ticket with him and that he hadn’t redeemed it. Harold never told anyone and continued the habit without anyone noticing.
Memory of the sales floor
Kevin used the stamp on a piece of the ticket as a clue to locate the concession stand that Harold had attended. At a small concession stand in the Lincoln Park area, the owner, Janet White, looked at Kevin’s face and said, “Are you Harold’s son? You looked fine when you came in last week.” I’ve known him for 30 years,” Janet added, “and he used to come in every Tuesday without fail. Kevin was speechless when he heard her say that she had never missed a visit in thirty years.
Janet’s testimony
At first he came with his wife, but after she passed away, he came alone. But the number never changed. I would buy five tickets with the same number each time,” Janet continued. When Kevin told her, “July 23, March 14, and November 7–my mother’s birthday, her wedding anniversary, and the anniversary of her death,” Janet rolled her eyes and quietly murmured, “That’s what he meant. She continued, “Because Mr. Harold never once told me why,” but Janet, who had supported him for thirty years without knowing it, was also part of her father’s story.
Why didn’t he redeem it?
I’ve never cashed it in,” Janet shook her head. Even if I win, I just take it home,” Janet shook her head. Kevin checked all the tickets and found that there was no sign of redemption and that they had all expired. When I asked why she didn’t redeem them, Janet thought for a moment and then replied, “Maybe she was saving them for something. That may be so. But Kevin still had no idea what it was that was being protected by not 换金. It was not until he returned to his study that he found out.
Diary in the study
Back at home, Kevin went through the shelves in the study again and found Harold’s diary. The weekly lottery records continued, “I won this week. I was able to report it.” “It didn’t happen this week. I’ll be back. Then, on one week’s page, it read. I can’t see your happy face, so what’s the point of redeeming it? Just report it. Kevin read that sentence over and over again. The goal was not to redeem the money. It was to continue to report to Helen, that was all that meant anything to his father.
Kevin’s Tears
As he read through the diary, Kevin cried without realizing it. When he offered it to Sarah, who came next to him, her hand also stopped at the sentence, “All you have to do is report. For thirty years, Harold continued to report to Helen every week. When he won, he did not redeem the ticket, but just kept going to tell her that he had won again. The tickets were proof that he had won, and proof that he kept reporting. Was it not the money that the winning ticket worth $300,000 indicated, but the love for a certain person that had not been interrupted for 30 years?
Morning of Tomb Sweeping
The next morning, Kevin visited a cemetery outside Chicago. There was a small vase by Helen’s grave with live flowers still inserted. He knew that Harold must have come just before he died. Kevin held a bundle of tickets he had brought from a drawer in his hands and said, “Mom, look. ‘You’ve been reporting in all these years, Dad. You never missed one,” he continued. The wind blew and the flowers in the vase swayed. Kevin stood there for a moment, staring at the same headstone his father had gazed at for thirty years.
Number Meaning
When we checked each ticket, we found that the numbers 07-23 (mother’s birthday), 03-14 (wedding anniversary), and 11-07 (anniversary of her death) were each included, and in some weeks, multiple numbers were combined to win. On the week that Helen’s birthday and anniversary of her death fell on the same day, she wrote in her diary, “I got two this week. It’s a special day. The more the numbers came together, the happier Harold was. Was it a real “hit” for my father to have so many of Helen’s dates coincide with each other rather than the amount of money?
Report to Janet
Kevin returned to the sales floor and showed Janet the diary page. After reading it, Janet wiped her eyes and muttered, “So that’s what happened. Harold, you always went home smiling the week you won. The week he didn’t win, he seemed a little disappointed, but he would come back the next week. There was never a week when he didn’t come. Only once in thirty years did Harold not show up on a particular Tuesday. That was the first time Janet knew he was gone. The fact that he did not come was the final goodbye.
Last Tuesday
Two weeks before he died,” Janet said, “he came in a little later than usual on a Tuesday, out of breath, with a shopping bag. I said, ‘I’ll be back,’ and left,” Janet said. When I checked to see if I had won that week, I found that I had won $500 for the July 23 number. In her diary, she wrote, “I won again this week. I’ll be back next week,” she wrote. The following week, however, Harold was hospitalized and was unable to come to the booth. Did Harold know that the words “I’ll be back” would be his last greeting to Janet?
Last Diary
Kevin read the last page of the diary. A week before he died, he recorded, “My body is not moving as well as it should. I don’t know if I will be able to go next Tuesday. But I will. Helen, wait for me. I still have a few things to report. That was the last of the records, and he could not buy tickets for the following week. Kevin slowly closed the page and thought that he must have closed his eyes, worrying about next week’s tickets. I felt my father’s persistence for 30 years as he passed away, thinking until the very end that there was something he had not reported.
Kevin’s Decision
The following Tuesday, Kevin visited Janet’s sales floor. When he told her, “The same number my father used to buy every week, same number of tickets,” Janet looked a little surprised, but silently produced the tickets. Kevin went straight to the cemetery and showed the ticket in front of Helen’s grave. I’m here on behalf of my dad. I’m going to continue what my dad has been doing all along,” he said, his voice trembling. Kevin wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but he couldn’t think of any other way to respond to his father’s thirty years.
Results for the following week
The first two weeks I missed, and the third week I won $500. When I visited the grave and reported, “I won, and it was my mother’s birthday number,” I burst into tears. For the first time, I felt like I understood in my body why I had not redeemed the money. If I redeemed it, it would be just money. If I stayed away from redeeming it, it would remain a testament to my conversation with Helen. Kevin put the ticket in the drawer. In that drawer, where his father had kept it for thirty years.
Sarah’s understanding
Aren’t you going to redeem that?” his wife, Sarah, asked. Kevin nodded and simply replied, “Only for a little while.” Sarah said nothing. The next week, Sarah followed him to the sales floor. Janet asked, “Is that your wife?” Sara answered, “Yes,” and quietly listened to Janet’s words, “Mr. Harold used to come with his wife, too. Sarah looked at Kevin’s profile. She could see a quiet overlap between the time her father and mother had stood here together and the time they were here now.
Janet’s Notes
A few months later, Janet opened a drawer on a shelf in the sales room and showed me. It was a notebook containing thirty years of Harold’s purchases, with every Tuesday’s date, number, and winning amount, all in Janet’s handwriting. ‘I just kind of wrote it down. Without the notebook, there was no way to verify Harold’s thirty years. Kevin replied, “It was helpful enough,” and Janet nodded, a little embarrassed.
Three envelopes
In another drawer in the study were three envelopes. Each had a date written on it, and inside each was a ticket. The three tickets were for Helen’s birthday, wedding anniversary, and anniversary of her death, all three of which had been won at the same time. The note on the back of the envelope read, “Helen, I got them all. The birthday, anniversary, and anniversary of my death all hit together. It was a perfect day. I’ll be back. Kevin held the three envelopes to his chest. He thought of the depth of his father’s quiet joy when he called the day when all three dates came together “a perfect day.
Another witness.
In the spring, Kevin took Janet to the cemetery. On her first visit to Helen’s grave, Janet bowed her small head and said to the headstone, “You have come every week for thirty years. The wind blew. Janet took a copy of the purchase records for the thirty years from her handbag and asked Kevin, “Can I leave these with you, too? Kevin nodded, and Janet carefully placed the paper by the vase. It was the day that the person who had supported her for thirty years, without knowing her name, finally came to see Helen.
I’ll be back.
The following Tuesday of the month, Kevin and Sarah went to the sales floor together and bought the same number of tickets with the same number. They went straight to the cemetery and found that Harold’s grave was now lined up next to Helen’s. Kevin placed one ticket in front of each of the two headstones and said he would be back. The wind blew and the ticket moved, and Sarah gently held it under the stone. Someday, Kevin thought, when he won this ticket, he would not redeem it. He would just come to let us know that he won it. Just like his father had always done. *This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events are fictitious and have no relation to any real person or event. The photographs are for illustrative purposes only.
