Little Things Mean a Lot

That line popped into my head this afternoon. As I suspected, it's from an old song by that name (from the '50s). I checked out the lyrics, and it looks like the singer is telling her man that she doesn't need big, fancy, or expensive expressions of his love. What's more important to her are the simple gestures that show how important she is to him. 

But the phrase didn't conjure up anything romantic for me today. Instead, I got to thinking about the memories we make with those we love. You can spend lots of money on exotic vacations, or you can have a picnic in the park. You can buy fabulous jewelry, or you can pick a bouquet of dandelions. You can treat your friends to a shopping spree, or you can share coffee and conversation on the patio. You can plan and spend and "do" in a effort to force the creation of pleasant memories. But while the big events may leave you with photos and things to talk about at the next family reunion, it might be the little things that leave a deeper, more lasting impression.

I was cleaning out a folder in my filing cabinet that, admittedly, could have been cleaned out long ago.  There were some ancient resumes for jobs I never got and for which I didn't even remember applying. At that time, I was working at a hotel front desk but was trying to move up the ladder in the hospitality field. I found a slip of paper with a few ads from my hometown newspaper glued to it. General manager at one motel, front desk manager at another. I figured that my dad had probably cut them from the paper and sent them to me, knowing I was looking for new opportunities. (My mom would have been just as likely to clip and send them, but she would have just tucked them loosely into a letter.) If I'd had any doubts about where these job leads came from, the source became clear when I noticed one tiny ad placed neatly among the rest: "Models and Show Girls. Will train." I can totally picture a little mischievous grin as Dad glued that to the page with the others. I don't remember if we ever chuckled about it together. But it's the kind of thing that reminds me of him rather than any particular event or occasion. If your dad can't alert you to a job opening for show girls, who can?

I decided to not recycle that particular piece of paper after all. It really is the little things that mean a lot. Thanks for reminding me of that, Daddy.