Much of my time as a trainer is spent creating activities that my clients find both provocative and meaningful. The experiences are designed to help them tap into their own knowledge base and find their own truths. This is particularly so when leading "values clarification" exercises.

Values are ideals that each individual holds as most important. It is the nonnegotiable, uncompromising part of us that reveals itself best under duress. It is the mantra that courses through us when we are stressed. It is what we hold onto when there is nothing left.

A year or so ago, I conducted a training and asked the participants to make a short list of items they would save from their home in case of disaster as well as the reasoning behind each choice. They were told that they need not worry about loved ones; they would be OK. (In hindsight, this would be quite a gift indeed, considering the recent loss of life in Louisiana and other Gulf Coast states.)

Naturally, atop everyone's list were the family photos. These memories, burned in film and saved on paper, represented the single clearest connection between who we were and who we would become. Most could not imagine a life without their photo albums.

Many said that they would save their computers. I could just see people running down the street with a CPU under one arm and a monitor under the other. In this, the information age, much of our life work can be found on the computer.

Not one person said that he/she would save their TV. I find this amazing, considering how much time we spend in front of the tube. Of course the TV is easily replaced, but I suspect there is something else at work here. While many of our entertainment gadgets are expensive, their actual value is questionable. In real terms, our TV is not likely to be the one thing we hold onto in the end. I found this comforting then and comforting still.

One late night last week, I asked myself what I would save in an emergency and my answers surprised me. Years ago, my daughter made me a Father's Day bookmark. It has her picture and a small poem and finds it way into every book that I read. It is love personified, a life untouched by hardship.

Then there is the cribbage board my father gave me years ago, old and weathered with broken pegs in some of the holes, but it was once his and is now mine, a legacy passed from one generation to the next.

Finally, there are the bongo drums that my wife gave me on our first anniversary. I was convinced that I would learn to beat the skins, and my wife indulged my fantasy. As it turned out, I never followed through, but my wife believed in me, and the bongos are a symbol of her faith.

My treasures are not worth much monetarily. But they mean everything to me.

You see, those things that we value most are rarely expensive and almost never matter to anyone but ourselves.

Each treasure is a gift from someone, a symbol of the person and a reflection of my values. Most would simply see a bookmark, cribbage board and bongo drums.

In my eyes these are love, legacy and faith; values that define me; values that I will grasp tightly when there is nothing left to hold onto.

Michael DeMattos is on faculty at the University of Hawai'i School of Social Work. He lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter and two dogs.