My father's paperweight

Years ago, my father would get together with his stock broker and discuss investments. Dad would always say, "How's this one going to perform?" And the stock broker always said, "Well, Phil, if I had a crystal ball I would tell you." And they would laugh.

One day, dad was walking past a pawn shop and saw this paperweight in the window, bought it and took it to his broker. Dad slapped the paperweight down on the broker's desk, and said, "There's your crystal ball. Let's start making investments."

They both laughed uproariously and went out for a multi-martini lunch. They retuned to the office a few hours later to find the fire department there, the broker's secretary in tears, and the office full of smoke and water-soaked papers. It turns out that the sun, shining through the paperweight, had focused on the papers on the desk, igniting them.mmThe broker promptly returned the paperweight to dad, saying, "I can clearly predict more trouble than I can handle if I keep this thing."

Dad kept the paperweight in his office and told the story over and over. After he died, I let my brothers have all the guns, and I took the paperweight, and the dresser and handmirror that had belonged to dad's parents. I passed the mirrors on to my nephew's children, but I have held on to the paperweight.

And over the years, I have rescued a couple of its friends from estate sales. Solid clear glass with a few bubbles. I love the way they play with light and images. I predict visions of brightness and joy.