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Writer's pictureB Patrick Jensen

Bean's Gift


Eileen Jensen Rush 1963 - 2014

Bean's Birthday - 1967


It was June 5, 1967, my sister Eileen’s 4th birthday - a day that beams brightly in my mind's eye to this very moment —the day that would unknowingly cement the bond between my sister, Bean, and me. “Bean” was our term of endearment, a nickname I assigned in childhood jest to my kid sister. It stood the test of time as did the sacred bond between us.


While my dad was in the basement, focused on assembling Bean's birthday gift, a Raggedy Ann Doll baby carriage, I was there too, a six-year-old sidekick to his efforts. The basement was our makeshift workshop, with gifts like the Raggedy Ann Doll spread out on the floor, waiting to be wrapped.


Caught in Magic Moment


In the midst of this, Bean, who was turning four, couldn't resist the birthday allure. She peered through the cellar window, her little face filled with anticipation, trying to get a sneak peek at her presents. I caught her eye as she spotted the unwrapped treasures.

Our eyes locked for a millisecond and our hearts connected for a lifetime in the same instance

Then she spotted me, spotting her! Bean’s expression flickered with surprise and a touch of worry; she knew she wasn't supposed to see her gift yet. Our eyes locked for a millisecond and our hearts connected for a lifetime in the same instance. I could've shouted for Dad, but I did not.


Bean darted away from the window, but we both knew I'd seen her.


Our Sacred Pact


I never uttered a word about that magical moment, not until today. Not to Bean, not to anyone. But we both always knew that we knew! It was our little secret, a silent agreement that fortified a sibling bond stronger than any wrapped gift could ever convey.


That day, Bean and I didn't just share a birthday celebration; we shared a pact of trust and camaraderie that only we could understand. This memory, much like the unwrapped Raggedy Ann Doll, remains a treasured gift, unadorned yet priceless.


Our bond as siblings was forever sealed, not by shared secrets or promises of what we wouldn't tell our parents, but by the unspoken understanding and the memories we started to stack up like the toys in the basement.


Snapshot 1967 - Love Remembered


This isn't a story with a moral or a lesson; it's just a snapshot of a moment in time, a little piece of the world in 1967 that belonged only to us. Funny, the things you remember and hold on to, isn't it? For Bean and me, it's that sunny June afternoon, the feeling of being in cahoots, and a birthday that was just a little bit more special because of it.

It's just a snapshot of a moment in time, a little piece of the world in 1967 that belonged only to us.

As years have passed, I’ve come to realize that the true essence of family lies not in the grand gestures but in the quiet complicity and the tender conspiracies of love. For us, it was a birthday secret that never needed to be wrapped, a bond that no amount of time could unravel.


And so, dear readers, I share this memory with you, a reminder of the simple, unspoken promises that sometimes become the most profound stories of our lives. May you find your own Raggedy Ann moments and cherish them as I have cherished mine.


B. Patrick Jensen

1/16/2024



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