Bob Olson - The Magic Mala: A Story That Changes Lives

Copyright 2017 by Bob Olson .

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, digital or otherwise, without permission in writing from the author or publisher (except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review).

Published by Building Bridges Press

First Printing: May 2017

Printed in the USA

Cover design by Melissa Olson (concept) and BeSpoke Book Covers (design)

Building Bridges Press

Table of Contents

Dedicated to my one and only love, Melissa.

Had she not rebelled against her curfew at age twelve, I might not have met her. Had she not been so smart and pretty, I might not have fallen in love so hard and so young. Had she not been so strong and supportive, I might not have survived my chronic depression in my twenties. Had she not encouraged me to believe in myself, I might not have persisted through the financial struggles of my thirties. Had she not believed in me, I might not have had the courage to pursue my dreams in my forties. Had she not worked with me side by side, I might not have been able to create such fulfilling work in my life. Had she not served as an example of what it means to be loving, compassionate, and kind, I might not be the man I have become today. And finally, if Melissa had not taught me to love myself, I might not have the love inside of me that I have for others. For this and so much more, I am the luckiest human being alive because of you, my sweet Melissa. You are undeniably and so reliably the love of my life.

R OBBY ROBINSON waited until his wife, Mary, left for the store. He watched his high school sweetheart get into her twelve-year-old station wagon. The contrast between her natural beauty and the wagons rusty exterior was painful to him. She deserves so much more, he murmured to himself.

Fifteen years earlier, Mary had shown up in his neighborhood visiting a friend who lived there. The barefoot blonde caught Robbys eye and he was smitten. She liked him, too, but never expected that the popular junior class president would be interested in her. After all, he was two years older than she and had plenty of girls his own age who liked him. After that night, he only wanted one girl. He asked her on a date before the evening was over, and they dated for ten years before getting married.

As Mary drove down the street, Robby wondered where hed gone wrong. He had planned on being a millionaire by thirty, but here it was two years later and his homecoming queen was driving a jalopy to the grocery store with the last of their money.

When her car turned the corner and was out of sight, he ran up the stairs to the second floor where the attic stairs were hidden in the hallway ceiling. He pulled the string above him and the stairs unfolded like an accordion toward the floor, dropping dust and frayed bits of insulation on his head. Robby climbed toward the attic to have a look around. He knew his 180-pound frame would easily make it through the ceiling hole, but he felt the steep climb in his legs from spending too much time sitting behind his computer.

Theres got to be something up here of value I can pawn or sell , Robby thought as he hoisted himself through the hole into the sweltering early summer heat. After standing up and shaking the insulation out of his thick black hair, he was overwhelmed by all the boxeslots and lots of boxesand not one with a label of the contents inside. This is going to take a while , he decided, and then looking at his watch concluded, Ive got forty-five minutes to see what I can find .

Wanting to avoid two hornets flying up by the skylight, Robby started with a small box at the opposite end of the attic. He chose it because it wasnt sealed shut. He spread open the cardboard flaps and peered inside. His face brightened.

Inside was the scrimshaw pocketknife hed gotten as a groomsman gift at the wedding of his buddy Kris. Next to the knife was an old watch with a cracked crystal that he had found at the beach. He liked it, and it kept accurate time, but he could never afford to get the crystal fixed. Beside that was a Montblanc pen that might have some value except he remembered it didnt work. He held it in his hand but couldnt recall how he had acquired it. Nonetheless, it was the same problem: he couldnt afford to get it working.

You have to have money to make money , he thought. If I could get these two items repaired, Id probably double my money by selling them.

Robby threw the Montblanc pen back into the box. What good are ya? Pushing aside a Red Sox baseball cap that would be too small for him now, he saw an old hockey puck signed by Wayne Gretzky. Ah, yes! Now were talking.

Robby was a Bruins fan, but he idolized Wayne Gretzky of the Los Angeles Kings. He pulled the puck out and held it, recalling the memory of the night hed gotten it nearly seventeen years prior.

His father had taken him to see the Great One in Los Angeles when he was fifteen years old on their trip to California. They were sitting behind the goal when Gretzkys shot hit the post, deflected over the safety glass, and Robby caught it. He recalled how it hurt his hand in the catch, but he didnt let on because his father was so proud of him.

Later, as they were leaving the arena, they spotted Gretzky peeking out of a doorway between the pizza and pretzel stands, apparently waiting for someone. Robbys dad nudged him to go ask for an autograph, which Gretzky might have ignored except that he saw Robby was wearing a Los Angeles Kings shirt with his number on it: 99.

Gretzky waved Robby and his father over behind the door and signed the puck. Robbys dad took a picture of them together with Gretzky holding it. It was one of the few times Robby and his father attended an event like this, and consequently, it was one of his favorite childhood memories.

I guess Ill see what I can get for it , Robby thought as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. Its crazy hot up here. Is this what my life has come to, sweating my butt off in an attic for a few extra bucks?

Robby scanned the attic and saw another box that wasnt sealed shut, a bigger one. It was located just under the hornets. He slowly moved toward the box realizing the hornets werent paying attention; they just wanted to get outside.

I dont blame you guys. Howd you get in here in the first place? he said.

He cautiously grabbed the skylight handle and cranked it counterclockwise. The skylight window opened, and the hornets quickly escaped. Robby hastily closed the skylight tight again.

Youre welcome! he yelled to the hornets that were now out of sight. Thanks for not stinging me, he muttered.

Robby grabbed the big box that was on top of a file cabinet and placed it on the floor. He immediately spotted a cigar box of his fathers inside. He pulled the cigar box out of the larger box and opened its lid to be greeted by the sweet aroma of cigars. Memories of his father smoking cigars while cooking steaks on the grill suddenly consumed him. He closed his eyes and held the memory there for a few seconds. Then he returned from the past and continued his search.

There was one cigar still in the box that crumbled in his fingers like dry wheat when he picked it up. The tobacco leaves stuck to his sweaty fingers. Suddenly his attention was drawn to what looked like blue rosary beads.