Last week, I went to Woody’s house to help him move next door back to his old apartment. Normally when you move, you find things that might have been lost or long forgotten about until you have to turn your life upside down and pack it all away. I can even recall finding some old treasures of my own on the several occasions that I have moved. But when Woody was moving – he found the most priceless of forgotten treasures – and one I consider to be a true gift from God.

As I was helping him pack and move, he came across an old bottle of scotch that had only two shots left in it. Grabbing two glasses, he asked me to join him for the final shot so he could discard the bottle. I told him that I do not drink hard liquor, but he was insistent. After pouring the scotch, he brought me into the kitchen and asked me if I wanted to keep his butcher block/breakfast nook, to which I said yes. He then asked me if I wanted to keep his answering machine, to which I said no because I already had one. After I declined his offer, he then told me that before he threw the answering machine away – he had to pull of a message that someone left him – and then he hit play – and I heard this:

“Hey man, it’s Doug. I’m over at a friend’s house. It’s 7:30pm, we’re installing XP on his machine. I was just wondering if you installed it on yours and how everything went. All right, I’ll catch you later on man. Take it easy.”

As soon as I heard his voice, my heart felt like it was hit by a Mack truck. I instantly grabbed my chest and started to cry. I had absolutely no idea that the voice on Woody’s machine was Doug’s – because quite frankly – I never thought I would hear his voice again. And while hearing his voice was a wonderful reminder of what an amazing person he truly was – it was also a very somber reminder of the fact that he can no longer leave Woody, myself or anyone else another answering machine message ever again – because his life was stolen by soulless monsters on the worst day in our nation’s history – September 11, 2001.

As soon as the message finished – which according to the machine was recorded on Monday, September 10, 2001 – Woody turned to me and raised his glass, and we stood silent and toasted to our fallen friend.

For the rest of the day, and everyday thereafter, I am very glad that Woody saved and played me that message, which I have since recorded onto a micro cassette and plan to convert to an MP3 – I just wish he would have given me a little warning before he played it for me. Having a few seconds of Doug’s voice on tape is even more than I have of my father – because movie cameras back then were unable to record sound. But no matter the few items that I have of left Doug – having him with us again would be the most priceless treasure of all…

…and that is something I would give anything for.