Evan's Lesson in a Little Black Book

Evan McNeilsen looked at his phone as it buzzed to alert him of his father's call. Miles...the name flashed across the screen with no real substance at all. No contact picture, no assigned ringtone. Just Miles. Evan's mind could not remember the last time he'd called Miles...Dad. He had not heard his father's voice in years. Their relationship had been reduced to a quick text every year on the day he was born, followed by a conversation with his Mom about how much they missed him. Why was he calling? Evan's thoughts were answered by another buzz as the text popped up across his screen…"It's Mom, Evan call me."

Without hesitation Evan pushed the call button. Two rings later, Mom answered with one sentence…"Evan your Uncle died."

He stood in his apartment with a thousand thoughts, but said nothing. Mom continued, "It was sudden and we are still in shock, especially your Dad." Not really processing his mother's words, Evan managed to eek out a humble..."I'm on my way."

With a bag packed, Evan buckled in and set out for the three hour drive to his parent's home. The emotional distance that lay between his place and theirs stretched the distance beyond three hours in Evan’s mind. He used the time to think about what he'd say to his father. His figurative thought bubbles were empty.

Evan's Uncle Mel and his father Miles were inseparable for as long as he could remember. He was told by his late grandparents that it was always that way. Two years apart in age, they grew up very close, as brothers became best friends.

To Evan's surprise, he felt himself blinking away the tears seeking to fill the wells of his eyes. Wow, he had to pull it together! He didn't have a close relationship with his Uncle. His mind pulled up a memory from when he was 12. “I have a gift for you," his Uncle Mel said. He was ridiculously wealthy, being one of the most prominent authors of his time, but you'd never know it by the economy car he drove and the fairly modest home he lived in alone. Uncle handed Evan a journal. It was a blue medium sized one with the words Modo&Modo printed on the left side of the cover, and Moleskine 1997 printed on the right. He ran his finger along the raised words. Uncle Mel loved to write and hoped to pass that on to someone, never having any children of his own, his only nephew was the perfect choice.

"Use this cahier journal for your life, to pen your experiences, and capture your dreams." He continued, "Each year I want you to write down who you want to be as you grow up." Confusion spread across Evan's young face. "Uncle Mel, you said WHO I want to be, don't you mean WHAT I want to be?" His Uncle's chiseled face curled into a smile. "No my dear boy, I meant what I said...there is a big difference between the two...what you want to be will cause you to work at something...who you want to be will cause you to work on everything."

Evan blinked twice more to bring his thoughts back to the present day. His future interactions with his Uncle would be few, as his teenage years ushered in a new Evan.

Drinking first, drugs followed. Evan allowed his bubble of thoughts to fill with all of his past mistakes and he knew his family considered him to be the quintessential black sheep. He failed to realize that the one sheering him and misusing his wool, was he himself. Evan held the shears of guilt and regret so tightly, it caused him to isolate himself from all whom he once loved. He led a lonely life, working in the field of tech service for the last 7 years, work consumed him, he had no real friends or love life; although his 24 year old psyche craved the pleasures of a wholesome friendship.

Three hours felt like a mere thirty minutes as Evan found himself pulling up into his parent's driveway. His father's face lit dimly on the front porch as he sat in wait of his son and in need of his brother. He stood as his son's headlights brightened. Evan parked, grabbed his bag from the trunk and walked onto the porch. “Hey, I am sorry about Uncle Mel."

"So am I son," was his father's reply.

The next five days flew by. After the funeral procession, Evan had every intention to leave the town of his childhood immediately. He and his father had spoken a total of about 20 words since his arrival and he no longer wanted to burden his parents with the reality of their awkwardness around one another.

The family was called into the den of Mel's home by his two lifelong attorneys. One recounted how much Mel loved four things above all else: His brother, his family, his dog Molly, and his writing. As if on cue, Molly let out a light bark at hearing her name. She had barely moved from the spot where she would sit at Mel's feet underneath his desk. Surely she wondered where he must be with all these strangers here, and not one wearing the face she so loved.

It was time to read the last will and testament. Evan wondered why he needed to be present for that. “I hope he left me the dog," Evan thought to himself, “if he left me anything.”

The attorneys read off items, estates, deeds to property, and the like. Several recipients involved other family members and organizations. Miles McNeilsen was in tears as they read that he was the sole inheritor of all else, to use at his discretion. This however, was attached to two requests. One...allot some of the undisclosed amount of cash to two charities. The first was The Forest Stewardship Council. The second...The Moleskine Foundation. The latter rang a familiar bell with Evan as his thoughts flashed back to that blue cahier journal his Uncle gifted him so long ago. He still had it and it was still bound and beautiful…"And to Evan...Miles, Melvin would like you to read this to your son please as it fulfills his second request.”

Evan sat up in his seat. Miles rose and took a letter and a small black book from the attorney and began to read, “To my only nephew Evan Montague McNeilsen...I gave you a journal when you were younger. If you did not get to use it to its fullest purpose, I understand. My hope is that one day you will do so. Life has been what it has been for you, but one thing I have never questioned about you, is your heart. I want you to know I trust you with my most important assignment and my doubt that you will fulfill it is nonexistent. I am leaving you $20,000. Your Dad is holding a small black book that outlines everything. Report back to my attorneys upon completion. I love you my dearest nephew."

You could have heard a fly gasp in the deafening quiet that filled the room. Evan sat very still attempting to make sense of his father's words. Miles walked over and handed his son the little black book and letter, giving him a light squeeze on the shoulder. Evan ran his calloused fingers over the raised lettering on the front- Moleskine in the left corner, Evan Montague personalized in gold lettering on the right. A small symbol of a diamond joined the words. It was bound and beautiful. A single tear fought its way from his right eye and trickled down his cheek.

"Oh there is one more thing"...the attorney's voice interrupted his thoughts..."You also get Molly the dog..." Molly barked and trotted straight to Evan's feet where she curled into a ball, and remained there.

Evan sat in silence while the room cleared and visitors began to make their exits after wishing the family well. Only a few faint sounds of chatter and the maid vacuuming was left. He slowly opened this little black book to find the words penned on the inside cover...WHAT you want to be pales in comparison to WHO you already are...Love Uncle Mel.

The restraint on Evan’s tears was dismissed as he gave way to them and allowed the full force of his emotions to freely escape. Molly snuggled in closer to Evan as he quietly wept. He had not cried in years. The cleansing was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

With a new sense of understanding, Evan turned to the first page and read:

"First, donate $11,000 to a charity and tell no one. Giving is not meant to be advertised, it is intended to align our advantages with the needs of others.

Second, make amends with your Dad. He is not your “father”, he is your Dad. You two have not seen eye to eye but that does not mean you cannot see heart to heart.

Thirdly...use the remaining $9,000 to go on a trip with your Dad. Each year, he and I go on a fishing trip where we catch feelings more than fish. Please keep this tradition.

One last thing...the words caught Evan’s eye as he was about to thumb through the rest of the book. This book is blank. Pen your experiences. Capture moments and cherish memories."

Evan closed the book and shifted in his chair. Molly scooted, as if knowing he was ready to rise. He stood and went to find his Dad. Arms outstretched, Evan walked straight towards him and embraced his Dad for the first time.

In that embrace lived an apology from both men, a common ache for Melvin...and time...time for a new relationship they both needed.

None was wasted as they found themselves on that fishing trip two months later. The 20 words that once filled the space between these two men, was replaced with an abundance as they got to know each other from the sincerest place either had ever been. Between smiles and stories, Evan checked his phone to see that Big Brothers and Big Sisters had received his donation in his Uncle Mel’s name. Evan’s hope was to provide for young ones what he had obviously missed- a belief of self, and an appreciation for a strong foundation.

The trip ended on the same note it began. One of harmony. Evan and Miles were on track for not only a kinship, but a genuine friendship. Arriving back, Evan dropped off his Dad, picked up Molly from his Mom, and headed over to the lawyer’s office to update them.

Evan’s smile entered the room before he did. “Well, don’t you look refreshed!," one attorney said with a grin. Evan announced that life was great, especially for him and his Dad. Both men shared an exchange of quiet pride. “Evan, your Uncle wanted you to have one last thing. He trusts you to make great choices with it."

Evan picked up an envelope from the desk and opened it. He saw his name listed as the account holder on a bank statement. Evan was floored by the balance listed and felt himself fall into the seat behind him.

At the bottom of the page was the last thing his Uncle Mel ever wrote to him…"It was never about the money Evan...it was about the experience! May your life from today forward be full of ones that shape you into the truest form of you! Most importantly...Don’t forget to write ALL about it in your little black book…"