Papa's Gift (excerpted 10000 words)

Prologue

She knew better – but in this world of accommodation, sometimes ordinary events seduce one’s emotional body to slip out of alignment. Insignificant annoyances whisper up attitudes contrary to one’s own best interest. Her discontented consciousness fixated on dark conclusions drifting like malevolent jelly fish over her normally serene mind.

To entertain the gloom engulfing her psyche, Ellen Marie MacLogan Johansen had to ignore the beautiful morning, the brilliant, clear, and mild morning, in which she was traveling with those who loved her the most.

Her husband Jacob was at the wheel and little Julia Marie was sleeping contentedly in the most sophisticated car seat the two young parents could buy, but Ellen continued to nurture the growling gray mood leaching her energy.

They were going to be late. The most vexing annoyances had been the consistent fits of heavy traffic, but topping it all was the twenty minute delay at the open drawbridge. There, the world had turned in slow motion, as a large tugboat pulled a tall sailing ship across the four-lane highway at the approximate pace of Julia’s baby crawl.

They had been only the fifth vertebra in the long metallic snake of cars, trucks, and trailered boats struck motionless before the bridge gate. It was also easy to forget that the delay allowed time to change Julia’s diaper, much to the relief of Jacob’s olfactory sensitivities.

Still, as parents and child crossed that bridge spanning the inland waterway, Ellen’s mind had become more infected with a staccato of petty annoyances that kept recycling in her mind. Why don’t they just make the bridges high enough in the first place? Then the litany began repeating like a looped tape. If I hadn’t spent so much time getting the bags packed, or organizing the supplies for Julia - If we had just left the motel when we had agreed, instead of pigging on the free waffles - I don’t even like waffles - Who knew the causeway traffic would be so damned jammed - Nana will think we got lost. Ellen sat impatient and irritated with the non-cooperating universe, as she perceived it.

Jacob, sensing her mood, thought it was better to say nothing and just continue driving. He realized it was a text book case of what monks, metaphysicians, and mystics call Monkey chatter, those random insignificant thoughts that buzz across an otherwise contented mind like annoying houseflies.

He quietly acknowledged his gratitude that the hot glowing orb that had sprung above the eastern horizon, had not taken full aim at his fatigued eyes. It had cleared the pink and white cirrus clouds from over his left hindquarter.

Jacob mused, There’s a cosmic rheostat up there being controlled by a hopefully friendly spirit. Such a notion caused him to grin at his own cleverness.

Just then, with each parent caught up in their own differing thoughts, Julia began vocalizing an original baby tune that lilted sweetly from her perch behind her parents. A tune so unique and fitting for the moment, it would likely never be duplicated in any future impromptu performance.

Drawn to release her restraints and turn backwards on her knees toward her precious little one’s smiling performance, the mental moanings of the last hours evaporated from Ellen’s mind in a puff of steam. With her own sweet melodic voice she answered back, complimenting Julia’s song in a harmonic connection that cast the moment in the permanent memory of both mother and child.

Jacob’s grin widened, as he stretched his right arm across the back of his wife’s shoulders in a gesture of affection. Ellen rotated forward toward her husband, taking his hand into her right hand and lowering it to her knees. She reconnected her restraint and gently massaged the back of Jacob’s neck, leaning her head onto his shoulder.

She smiled toward the man she adored, “Jacob, I know you have an important appointment. So, when we get to Nana’s, just let us out and you go on. Nana will understand and we’ll all see you later this afternoon.”

Jacob gave both her knees a squeeze. “I think you’re right. It’s just as well. It’ll give you and Nana some time to catch up. I’m sure she wants to spend a lot of time with her only and loveliest great-granddaughter anyway. You and I are just the colorful paper and cardboard box she’ll arrive in.”

“Oh hush! Nana will be most happy to see you. You just get your work done first. Then you can concentrate on your lovely family, including your grandmother-in-law!”

Ellen was smiling again and reminisced, Nana was so beautiful. I think I have her looks. How has she aged? Will she still look like Nana? Will I see how I’ll look at her age?

This was her first trip to southwest Florida’s coastal islands. It would be only the second time to see her paternal grandmother, after whom she was named, since her marriage to Jacob. That was just over five years ago, when Papa was still alive. Ellen remembered, That was the last time I saw Papa. He requested that when he passed there be no service. He asked that a card be sent to a list of the people he cared for. The card stated that he was happy that each had been in his life and for each to please remember they are loved. My card is in my box of special things on my dresser.

She tried forming a picture of him in her mind. His image came a bit fuzzy but animated. She was sure he cracked a smile.

Her musings then swung toward the upcoming visit. Just briefly, she felt that pang of guilt for waiting so long to show off her daughter to her only surviving grandmother. It was Jacob’s business appointment that was making the visit possible.

Yesterday and this early morning's drive, through Florida’s ubiquitous crop of love-bugs, had scattered carnage, like the aftermath of a battle, all over the windshield. Ellen’s mental musings ended when, through the glass battlefield appeared the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Jacob lingered for a moment at the stop sign then turned right along the island's outer coast. They were now on Beach Road which was the address of Nana’s condo.

Ellen’s heart quickened just a little. They were close. Ellen spoke as though Ian MacLogan, her grandfather, was still here.

She said to Jacob, “Papa and Nana, they know things. They know things about life that most I’ve met don’t seem to know. I want Nana to tell me some things she knows—some of the things that she and Papa learned together. I know what. I’ll interview Nana like a reporter would do. I’ll get her to answer questions that I should have already asked.”

“Okay, Miss Lois Lane, reporter for the Daily Planet. Can I be your Superman?”

(Silence).

“Okay, I know what you’re saying, Elle. I wish I’d had more talks with your grandfather before he died. I suppose he had more adventures than I ever will. I really would’ve loved to have listened to some more stories and had some real deep discussions with him. Nobody seems to do that anymore, you know, have real conversations.”

Jacob made a smile that grew into a chuckle. “During our wedding rehearsal dinner, I asked your grandfather if he had any funny stories from his years flying. He sort of grinned and said, Yeah. Lots. It’s a profession that tends toward humor. I asked for an example and he thought, like he was going over a long list, then he said, Human eyes. I didn’t have a clue, so he told me the story.

“He said it was at the height of the controversy about new aircraft being configured for just two pilots instead of three in the cockpit. He said he was flying co-pilot on the wide-bodied Airbus, which had three pilots—one acting as flight engineer. The pilot’s union was arguing that the third set of eyes was indispensable for safety, with all the traffic around airports.

“He said, One morning the gate agent came into the cockpit with a small medical container. Written on it were the words - HUMAN EYES - in big print. The agent strapped the box in the jump-seat behind the Captain and said they were for transplant and would be picked up right away by a medical team at our destination. A few minutes later the senior flight attendant came into the cockpit to introduce herself and saw the box marked - Human Eyes. Being curious, she inquired about it.

“Papa got one of those grins that mean mischief. He told her, Oh, that’s a possible compromise the company and the union are trying to work out. They want to see if they can eliminate the third man and still keep the extra pair of eyes.

She turned to leave, saying something like, Oh. In that tiny moment, she realized she’d just been the butt of a joke. She turned right back around and started slapping me on the top of my head with both hands while the captain and engineer just cracked up laughing!

The tale gave Ellen a good case of the giggles. Jacob took advantage of his wife’s moment of mirth to continue.

“Papa then said, After we were airborne at cruising altitude, that same flight attendant came back in with some coffee. Seems the day before, there was a flight that had an anonymous bomb scare and had to divert to a closer airport. Nothing was found. She mentioned it and asked if we were concerned about such things. The flight engineer felt he should get a zinger in, so he said he was never worried about bombs because he had a fool-proof plan. She asked what possible plan would that be? The flight engineer said, well, you know the experts say the odds of two different bombs being on the same aircraft are astronomical. So then he informed her that he always carries his own bomb. So why should he worry. This time, without any hesitation, she started slapping him on the top of his head.

“Papa said, Those women sure had the advantage over us when they stood behind us and we were strapped in our seats. That’s what your Papa told me, and I wish I could have heard some more of those stories.”

Ellen shook her head but maintained a sly grin. She began to reminisce a little, trying to remember what Papa looked like when she first became aware of him. She had visited him and Nana in Port Ludlow at their bayside condo before she had even started school. She remembered some flights to Seattle with her Aunt Meg. She remembered the boat. That was such a long time ago.

Her remembrances were again replaced with the present when Jacob announced, “There’s the condo. It looks just like the Google street view, all glorious eight floors of her. Up there somewhere, Nana’s waiting for you two ladies to appear at her door.”

Jacob turned his silver Ford Escape east off the beach road and around the south side of the building. Seeing the entrance to the shelled surface at the structure’s rear, he turned in noticing the grumbling sound the shells made under his tires.

Chapter One

Generations

The small frail hands of the once distinguished gentleman closed firmly on the tiller in anticipation. He squinted mightily through the annoying cataracts that dimmed his focus. Thick round-rimmed spectacles were clamped firmly near the tip of the gnarly nose, shielded from the sun by a teal and tan floppy-brimmed hat. Remaining fully attentive, he allowed his head to push back against the plush leather headrest above the upgraded captain’s seat that fitted his diminished frame to perfection.

The octogenarian’s attire of choice that morning was an impeccably ironed and starched long-sleeved blue and white vertically striped shirt with gray gabardine trousers, supported by gray suspenders, all chosen to protect his pale thin countenance against the intensity of the Florida sun. He mentally noted every detail of the scene unfolding before him. His squinting eyes drew a steady bead on the silver SUV entering the crushed shell circular drive behind the eastside of the building in which he made his home for over thirteen years.

Increasingly, over the last several years, his mobile capabilities had become a greater part of his personal self-identity. Owning the latest sleek offering of electric scooter technology had become his passion.

His ride had four-wheel suspension, night-lights, and numerous elective extras. He could speed along at a blistering nine miles per hour to a range of thirty-eight miles before needing an electrical charge. In his transportation, he was a contented man comfortably in command of his Osprey 4410 electric scooter.

From his vantage point on the long concrete platform where the surface level parking garage is accessed, and from which the elevator shaft begins, beneath the eight-story condominium building, he reckoned there to be a male driver and a young woman in the passenger seat. Then he raised an eyebrow as he spotted the baby seat in the back that definitely looked occupied.

“Jackpot!”

In the rapidly declining years of his earthly existence, a prolonged and traumatizing incident from his youth had psychically and emotionally surfaced again. Cy Fligielman must begin each day on a quest for confirmation that he actually, in fact, still physically exists. His mornings remained mentally and emotionally fraught with uncertainty until someone alive, other than himself, acknowledged his presence.

The approaching SUV contained big medicine. He powered himself closer to the elevator shaft as the slim woman in cut-off blue jeans and a white pullover blouse with red polka dots exited the passenger door, opened the right rear door and began extricating her child from the strapped-in toddler seat.

Cy, noticing the mother’s manner of dress, mused to himself, Al Capp, rest his soul, would have been proud to know Daisy Mae had a great-granddaughter. Cy was unaware he was observing the movements of the granddaughter of his friend and eighth floor neighbor, Ms. Ellen MacLogan.

Cy watched in anticipation as she swung a bulky pink bag over her left shoulder, then lifted the child, in a yellow sun dress and white strapped baby sandals, against her right shoulder. He watched as she walked around the back of the car to the driver’s window and leaned down as best she could. She gave a long kiss to the driver who reached out his hand and tenderly touched them both before speeding away, as if in a great rush.

The slim young woman with baby and bag briefly looked around to become familiar with her surroundings. She walked up the short incline toward the door of the elevator shaft. That’s when she noticed the old man on the platform, sitting crouched in the scooter. She observed that on the flexible pole fastened to the back of his seat was a small American flag, and just below it, flew a well-worn and tattered Israeli flag. She waved as best she could, considering both arms were filled. Accompanying her wave, she offered a pleasant warm smile. Cy returned the wave and was quite convinced the baby had seen him as well.

Cy then mused, I had a new life and a young mother both see me. I am alive this day. Now certain of life, the old man deemed himself free to enjoy the rest of his day as one among the living.

He mentally planned his day’s activities. He saw his day unfold visually in his head. But had he spoken his plans aloud it would have been, “This is a good day to be off to old man Medina’s Sandwich Shop, exchange a few insults, order a half Cuban, bring half of that back for dinner on my balcony during the glorious sunset. And while I’m at Medina’s, I might even play a few games of checkers with the old grouch – never had the patience to teach that stubborn Cuban to play chess. Now, here I am with battery fully charged. The weather is mild. No doubt at all, this is the beginning of an exceptionally good day.”

Cy wheeled around smartly. He had the demeanor of an accomplished horseman bringing the reins around to precisely order his obedient steed to reverse course. He took the north ramp down from the platform and sped across the crushed shells to a paved trail and disappeared.

Ellen Marie watched, somewhat amused, as the old man on the scooter wheeled away. She then placed her attention on the elevator. She shifted her eight-month-old daughter to her left hip, freeing her right hand to press the outside button. When the door opened, she entered and selected the eighth floor. The transition from the bright morning sunshine to the darker interior of the elevator caused her also to shift her sunglasses up so they rested just at the top of the sweep of golden bangs covering the upper-most part of her tanned forehead. When the elevator door again opened, revealing the bright outside passageway hopefully leading toward her grandmother’s door, with just a flick of her head, she dropped the sunglasses back in perfect position on the bridge of her classically chiseled feminine nose.

Following a short walk down the outside walkway, she found the door marked 812. She shifted her little daughter again to push the doorbell button, while the bag filled with baby gear remained balanced over her right shoulder. She looked back over that right shoulder toward the eastern horizon. From her eighth floor vantage point, she saw the top of what seemed to be a shopping area several hundred yards eastward.

* * *

Inside the door, having heeded the door chime, Nana stood looking through the door’s peephole while Ellen waited patiently outside. The scene through the peephole had momentarily mesmerized Nana as she watched Julia laughing and playing with her mother’s animated smiling face.

Nana was touched and so enthralled by the scene that she had to mentally slap herself on the forehead, exclaiming under her breath, “You dotty old woman. They’re standing out there in the bright morning sun. Dumb butt, you can’t hug them through the door!”

With misty eyes and a huge cheek-wrinkling smile, Nana pulled open the door. She had been anticipating this visit with her granddaughter and the precious great-grandchild for two weeks since Ellen sent the e-mail. That anticipation had been almost overwhelming. Now, seeing little Julia in person filled Nana’s heart. It was an instant bond of unconditional love for the new life that had manifested through her own line.

Peering out from behind Nana’s left foot stood a small gold and white Shih Tzu. The small dog with big brown eyes, groomed in what is popularly called a Puppy-cut, curiously looked up at the obviously friendly strangers to her domain.

“Oh my, Elle! Welcome to my humble Florida home. Would you just look at the two of you – two beauties. Precious Jewel, I’m about to hold you at last. Oh my, you are a little precious baby beauty!”

Julia Marie hesitated only an instant, then met her great-grandmother’s enthusiasm with two out-stretched arms and a big crescent grin. Holding her made Nana’s blue eyes sparkle and glisten with more than a few joyful tears. Since Julia’s birth, Nana, who felt it was her privilege, nick-named her great-granddaughter, Precious Jewel.

Holding the Precious Jewel closely, she noticed that sweet baby smell that brought so many memories rushing forward. She ushered her granddaughter into the condo. Nana noticed that Julia was not heavy. She was a bit slight, as her mother had been. Her eyes were blue and her hair just a bit darker than her mother’s had been at her age.

Ellen slid the shoulder bag off onto a blond bamboo legged coffee table that guarded a vertically striped teal and navy couch. Along the right wall behind the couch was a long wall mirror designed to add the illusion of width to the narrow room.

* * *

Ellen wrapped both her grandmother and Julia in a group hug. She stepped back a pace and took in her paternal grandmother’s appearance.

Nana’s skin was still quite smooth and her blue eyes clear and deep. Thanks to the marvel of hair coloring, her hair was still a beautiful auburn. She had gained a little weight but carried it remarkably well. Ellen remembered Nana had always liked the look of the Hawaiian Muumuu dresses. She was wearing blue with large red and white flowers, a pearl necklace and a gold chain bracelet on her left wrist. There was also the wedding ring Papa had designed for her, still on her finger.

Ellen smiled and proclaimed, “God bless all in this house!” from an Irish blessing when entering a home, especially for the first time, taught to her early in her childhood. She then surveyed her surroundings. From where she was standing, she could see straight through to the balcony and the gulf waters beyond.

Julia began playing patty cake on Nana’s face as Nana mugged back through the tiny fingers. Nana interrupted her hugging and mugging for just long enough to remark through those little fingers, “Ellen, Jewel has your blue eyes, and she looks a lot like you did at her age, but she’s a little more filled out. You were such a small one.” Nana smiled broadly as she surveyed the lovely woman standing before her.

“Here, have a seat on the couch. Do you want something to drink, Elle? I can have tea ready in a jiffy.”

“No thanks, Nana. I’m fine,” Ellen replied.

They both seated themselves on the couch, with Nana holding Precious Jewel whose hands were now exploring her great-grandmother’s nose. Nana asked, in a nasally voice, “And how is Jacob? Is he enjoying his hunt for profitable Florida real estate? Is he coming up? Should I leave the door open?”

“Oh, absolutely yes on what he’s doing, but no on waiting for him—he should be back in a few hours. He had an appointment to look at a development site to see if he wants to get involved. Things have picked up a bit now that Florida is promising to becoming a hot market again. He was in a big hurry and only had time to drop us off.

“This morning was a long drive. We were in the hotel lobby at four-thirty this morning, but there were these waffles… and so much traffic. Jacob asked me to please apologize for his not coming up.”

Nana waved her free hand, dismissing the apology. “Oh it’s good for a man to be busy. It keeps the mind and body engaged. I want to get a blanket for Jewel so she can play on the floor. I want to watch how she interacts with her surroundings. You used to fascinate Papa and me when you were Jewel’s age. You were learning something new every minute.”

“Doubtful every minute, Nana, but I’ve converted all those tapes you and Papa made, to DVDs. Especially dear are the tapes you made during my first year while mom and dad worked. You and Papa were my personal day care center. Maybe, someday Julia will find it interesting to see her mom as a baby. We’re keeping a pretty good record of her antics too.”

Nana stood up holding Julia in her arms, Ellen stood up, and asked, “May I use the bathroom? I’ve been stuck in the car for the long ride.”

“Of course you may. I’ll show you where it is and later I’ll show you where you and Jacob will be sleeping tonight. Just follow me.”

Ellen fell in behind as they passed by the small kitchen with its pass-through counter opening, then down the hallway. Along the hallway, were the doors to the bath to the right and the hall closet to the left. Ellen noticed the opposing doors to the two bedrooms farther down. As Ellen turned into the bathroom, Nana began searching through the hall closet as Julia watched from the safety of her elbow. When satisfied, she returned and spread a large afghan of many colors in the middle of the living room floor in front of the couch. She sat Precious Jewel down on the afghan’s center.

Ellen, before leaving the bathroom, noticed four three-by-five cards taped on the corner of the mirror with reminders. Wash hair first or wear a cap, Lock both doors before retiring, Check burners and oven off, Check weather for wind and bring in balcony furniture if needed. Ellen got a worrisome feeling why Nana needed notes for such ordinary things and then remembered she was to pick Nana’s brain about things Nana knew.

Several years back, Ellen had volunteered at an assisted-living home in Euless, Texas, near her home in Grapevine. She had seen the beginning signs and the creeping progression of senility, The Long Goodbye. She shook off a sudden chill and resolved that she must carry through with the interview of her grandmother. She took a deep breath to fortify her resolve and then returned to the narrow living room.

Chapter Two

Letter to Ellen Marie

Ellen slid herself onto the couch to the left of her grandmother who had gathered up some soft toys belonging to the little Shih Tzu and placed them around Jewel on the afghan. Now the little seven-pound Shih Tzu was becoming interested and with cautious respect made a crawling front paws, rump in air, approach toward the baby who remained busy, swinging her arms and talking in an unknown tongue.

Julia pointed with both little hands, in different directions, drooled a grin and squawked something like a cartoon chipmunk saying Guggie. Both adults immediately pointed toward the little Shih Tzu and repeated with even more enthusiasm, “Doggie!” Both the little dog and Julia Marie looked puzzled as to what all the fuss was about.

Ellen was delighted. “That actually sounded like an intentional word. She does babble on a lot, but that really sounded intentional.”

Nana, looking fondly down toward her fuzzy-faced companion, said to Ellen, “I didn’t introduce you to Tzu Tzu.” Then Nana announced with custodial pride, “She is Mai Pai’s great-great-great—or is it four greats? I don’t remember, but she is Mai Pai’s direct something granddaughter.”

Ellen smiled, “Oh, I remember Mai Pai. You sent me pictures of Mai Pai. She was your boat dog, and she loved to travel on Papa’s boat, Magic Time. I still have all of the pictures you sent me when you and Papa lived in Washington State. I remember being up there visiting with you when I was little. I even remember being on that boat, but I think it was the video tapes you and Papa made that kept those times clear in my memory.”

Ellen then probed to get Nana talking, “Do you miss the boating, Nana, and did you ever get a scare being out on the water? The pictures and tapes show me a small boat on open water.”

“Well, the boating was great fun and the scenery exceptionally beautiful, but that was Papa’s passion. What I miss is Papa, but I know he’s still aware of me. I can feel him sometimes when I’m surrounded by a warm light breeze down on the beach or even out on the balcony.”

Nana disappeared temporarily in thought, then responded,

“Well, as to your second question – no. I always felt safe on Magic, with Papa, even at night.”

Ellen’s grandmother paused like she was thinking way back in time. “Oh, if it’s a scare on the water you want, I’ve got one for you.”

Nana looked toward Ellen, her eyebrows arched as though she was about to reveal a secret. “I remember an incident you may find somewhat unusual. It’s a fairly short story.

“After we had lived for a few years near Atlanta, when Papa was based there, we decided we wanted the kids to have the fun and the disciplines of having a boat. Papa and I talked it over and decided we could manage a used houseboat on Lake Lanier, north of Atlanta. The lake is behind a dam built at Buford, Georgia. Lanier is a beautiful big lake and has hundreds of miles of winding shoreline. It’s primarily the Chattahoochee River backed up and named for the poet Sidney Lanier. He wrote the poem, Song of the Chattahoochee.

“So, by good fortune, we found a forty-foot steel hull boat, powered by one single outboard engine. It had a huge front porch and enough room inside for the whole gang to stay overnight. The owner was itching to sell, because he was ready for a bigger, faster, more modern boat. I think, when we paraded all the kids up to see the boat, he took pity on us and gave us a good price. As a plus, we could keep it in the same marina and the same slip it was already in.”

“That sounds like fun, Nana. I bet Dad and all my aunts and uncles loved it.”

“Oh, they did indeed, Elle, maybe a little too much. So, after a couple of years had passed, and when Papa happened to be away on a three-day flight, your dad, who was about twelve and Ron, only a year older, talked me into letting them play hooky from school. The three of us should go up to the lake and take out the boat on such a beautiful spring day. Papa had let them both steer, and even dock the boat under his supervision. So they were convinced they were experts and knew all about navigating the lake. I fell for it. So we packed up some supplies and off we went.”

Ellen’s eyes lit up and she predicted, “Oh boy, something’s going to happen. I can feel it. There’s a lesson coming. I can’t even guess what the scary part is.” Ellen was wearing a mischievous grin that somehow reminded Nana of Ellen’s father.

“Well, the boys were pretty good at their seamanship duties. They untied the boat and left the marina without any mishaps. They steered into the main body of the lake. Then I suggested we turn left up the lake, there are a number of islands there where we can pull the steel hull up on the shore and tie up to trees. The boys found a large wooded island with a nice sandy beach and once Ron had steered the bow of the houseboat up onto the sand, both boys leaped off and tied the lines up to some close trees.

“After everything was secure, I told them they could take out the sailing dinghy, but one at a time, with life vests. I think I also said, Be careful, or I’ll drown you myself. Got it!”

Ellen grinned, thinking of how moms talk when making a disciplinary point.

“The dinghy was just a yellow Styrofoam-filled shaped hull, with a single sail. We had named her Lemon Love. It could hold two, but was much more fun with only one sailor. Your dad took it off the overhead deck, with help from Ron, rigged it, then your dad took it out for a sail.

“Ron stayed on the houseboat, rigging a fishing rod. He really loved to fish and if he caught anything worthy of keeping, he could clean and cook it like a seasoned fisherman. I went topside to lounge in the spring sunshine on a folding recliner. That was the totally tranquil scene – completely at peace. Not a care in the world.”

Ellen noticed Nana’s pause in the story and anticipated a less than tranquil turn of events. “Okay Nana, what’s next?”

Nana continued, “Papa and I had recently been initiated into the teachings of a man whose writings and talks reflected experience and knowledge of the Spiritual worlds and how it all works. He was truly a Spiritual Traveler. He would help us in our dreams with our permission. His name was Paul. That’s what he wanted to be called. He was very informal and humble. He had practiced for years with vibrational alignment. He taught spiritual exercises that helped balance the consciousness with its more refined vibrations. That’s important for you to understand the rest of the story.

“So anyway, there I was, lying in that lounge chair totally relaxed. I started to put my attention on the inner eye, the spiritual eye, when slowly it began to open like a camera lens might open, clearing a round hole at the center. With my eyes closed, I began to look into that center. Then, right there, up close, was Paul’s face. He had a serious look and he spoke. He said to get the boys on board and get off the island. I mentally hesitated, as that was such a shocking pronouncement. He repeated it again, with even more sternness.

“This time I acted. I had no idea why I jumped up so fast and started giving commands to the boys, they believed I was taken crazy and they had better obey. Chris pulled the dinghy along side. Ron ran to the bow, jumped off and untied the lines while I started the engine. Then Ron took the helm and began backing away as Chris climbed aboard from the side.

“They were both looking at me like I was a nutcase. After we were about fifty feet or so from shore and was turning the boat around, an old blue pickup truck emerged from the tree line. It stopped on the beach where we had just been. A man got out and stood there until we were far away and out of sight.”

Ellen’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened.

“Nana, how could that happen? You were on an island!”

“Well, when we turned around a certain point, I realized we had not been on an island at all. We had been on a peninsula that stuck out from the eastern shore of the lake. Then, a bridge came into view that connected the east and west sides of the lake. That gave me enough excitement for the day, so I ordered the boys to stow the dinghy and get us back to the marina.

“Elle, I still didn’t know why my vision of Paul had such urgency attached to it. Who was in that truck? What did it mean?”

“Yeah, who was in that truck?” Ellen repeated.

“We may have found out on that evening’s newscast. There was a family having a huge argument that morning and it resulted in a stabbing murder. It happened in a town just west of the lake. The police had found the man who did it, when they stopped him at a roadblock late that afternoon. He was in his father’s blue pickup truck!”

Ellen’s eyes widened some more.

“Oh yeah, and he confessed he had thrown the knife in the lake. It was shortly found by divers and I just never wanted to know where!”

“Jeez whiz, holy macaroni – Now that’s a story!” Ellen took a breath and asked, “How did your Paul know?”

“Well, he most likely didn’t. It was the inner form that knew. We were connected by the initiation. I had to reach inward to that vibration, that resonance that we shared. The physical situation that was developing is probably why I was inclined, at that exact time, to relax and begin an exercise with the spiritual eye. I wrote him a letter telling him about it and thanking him.

“That’s likely the first time he heard the story. Elle, inwardly, in our finer vibrations, we’re helping each other all the time. We always have greater knowledge available to us. The problem really is that we haven’t been taught how to receive it. Too much of our life is like a woman trying to put on her makeup with her back to the mirror. She can’t see the image she’s becoming and yet there it is, if only she would turn and see it.

“If we should face the mirror but keep our eyes closed to the reflection, well, that’s when by faith we believe there’s a reflection, but we’ve been taught we’re not capable or worthy enough to use it on our own. See the reflection from our higher consciousness is there, always there, but it remains up to us to open ourselves and accept it—to receive it.”

Ellen responded with a dry retort, “Yeah and it would help with the makeup job too.”

Nana grinned, “Those were pretty fun times overall, with the earlier boats and especially those times with Magic Time. But, Papa and I always felt our lives should be fun and happy. So that’s just naturally the way it was. Even when we met that first night at the Officer’s Club a—at—a um, at that air base outside Washington, DC. Oh, of course, Andrews Air Force Base. How could that have slipped my mind?

“I must be getting old. I worked on that base at Systems Command. I was getting a lot of overtime on a project about how to prevent overtime. That night we danced our first dance together.”

Nana touched Ellen’s hand, “Elle, that night we knew something was starting to happen that shouldn’t be stopped.”

Ellen never knew which form of her name Nana would use. Ellen, Ellie, Elle, or even Elle Belle! It would be as the spirit struck the whimsy of the moment, and kind of a southern thing that Nana, from Brooklyn, had picked up from Papa, her southern gentleman.

Ellen’s grandmother began to reminisce, “It was—the dance was—to Frank Sinatra’s Strangers in the Night. We knew somehow what was happening that moment was way beyond just two people dancing to a tune coming from a wall speaker. We saw it in each other’s eyes that night. That, Ellen, was the start of a quest for the meaning of our existing—of being conscious and knowing why we were conscious. So, what did it all mean? What could we do with the knowledge, if we could uncover it? We just knew that we already knew each other, even though we were just meeting for the first time. Well, anyway, for the first time this time.”

Ellen smiled as an unexpected tear moistened her cheek.

“Soon, without any hesitation, we cobbled our two clans together, all six kids and became one new family.

“Papa was already an airline pilot when his air guard unit was called to active duty. So, after being released and back with the airline, he thought Atlanta would be our home base until he was senior enough to become a captain. As it turned out, eventually we had to move on to Texas to a more junior base where he was promoted to captain and that’s where Chris, your dad, met your mom.

“Elle, do you remember in your last e-mail about coming for this visit, you said, “How sad it is that Papa will never meet this Precious little Jewel?”

Ellen nodded, “Yes, and it’s really sad to me. Papa would love her, and I know she would love Papa.”

“Well, here’s a memory that addresses that. In our early search for whatever mysteries we could uncover, we attended an event held by a man claiming to be a psychic. He had advertised in the Atlanta paper. It was a group meeting in a downtown hotel. It just cost a few dollars to attend so we went. We sat with a lot of other people in a large circle of chairs in a rented meeting room while this old gentleman moved slowly around the circle saying something to each person.

“I had regretted that my father had died before I met Papa. I knew they would like each other. That was on my mind as the man approached us. He looked at me, closed his eyes for a few seconds, nodded and said, By the way, your father says he likes your new husband. I was shocked. I shed some joyful tears right then. How did he pick that out? We had said nothing to any other person there and had never seen the man before or since, but somehow there was a communication from some deeper level than I knew was reachable.

“When I told that story to some of my friends, some said, Oh, he wasn’t talking to the deceased. He was just reading your mind.

“Then I thought even if that was true, was some form of communication that most people don’t think was possible so there were still things that needed to be learned. Think about it Elle, Mind reading. If it could be done from a distance, with proper training, it could put the phone companies right out of business!”

Ellen grinned, “I suppose.”

“Of course one would have to have the ability to turn it off to protect one’s privacy and hide any less than pure thoughts that might bubble up. That’s why I don’t like this social media stuff. Everybody knows everybody’s business. I just want to be private. Anyway, just thought you might like that story. I’m more than certain, Papa is quite aware of your beautiful daughter.”

“That’s a touching story,” Ellen said thoughtfully, “and it’s much more than just interesting. I bet there were lots of little things that got you two searching around looking for mysterious answers.

“You were the ones who taught me the word serendipity and how to spell it and especially to see it when it happens. You and Papa taught me how to never feel alone and to never doubt I’m loved. I’ve always been grateful for that. Papa made me promise to keep that knowledge in the back of my head, no matter how things might seem at any moment.”

Nana patted Ellen’s hands with her own, “We are never alone, and you are totally loved. Papa always told me that in spirit he and I were family, and that meant we would always be together. What he was saying is a Spiritual family, a relationship beyond this world. I know what he was saying is true. I know he felt you to be family, too. Papa thought you to be a special gift, and on that, I completely agree with Papa.”

Ellen blushed just a shade. She gave her grandmother another hug. Nana returned the hug as her eyes moistened just a tiny bit.

Cupping her granddaughter’s shoulders, she looked straight into Ellen’s deep blue eyes and said, “Seekers, we were Spiritual seekers. We were obsessed. We had an unquenchable thirst for understanding. Was it God? Was it just happenstance with no real meaning? We searched wherever there seemed to be answers. We were, I suppose, crying out to the universe for something, anything. We felt we had to find answers. We just knew more existed than we could see.”

“What happened then, Nana?”

“Then answers, patterns, began to be revealed. Dreams become more vivid, as did the occasional result of our contemplative exercises. After a long time, we got it. Both in our own way, but we just got it! We could relax and enjoy, because what we knew all made perfect sense. So, experiencing what we did, we came to know how to relax and accept the love that had been given to us. Love from the beginning that we had held off just for lack of knowing how to receive it.

“Everything fits now. I don’t see people or even animals as separate creatures in the ultimate reality, because we are all united in the all-enveloping love of the Creator that made our individual consciousness out of Its own fabric. Just think of it, fulfilling the potential of our consciousness is our duty with no time limit.

“I’ve blabbed enough now, dear Ellie, tell me about your family. How is everyone?”

“Everyone‘s just fine. There’s plenty of time for details later. Right now I want to hear more from you. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed hearing your voice and I want to know more.

“I suppose everyone in the family knows you and Papa believe you had known each other before you met that night. So that would mean reincarnation for sure, right?”

“Well, if I must go on. I prefer the phrase, continuity of consciousness. Each of us has consciousness. In fact, it’s what we are. Where we express ourselves depends on where we’re focusing our attention, but we are aware somewhere just the same. We are somewhere in these vast universes of spirit. We are many places although the term, places, is much too limiting. And yes, Elle, if it is in our plan to do so, we may return to an earthly body as we desire. I agree with Papa that we are all in essence – in our core – eternal beings that vibrate and respond to just one motivating factor, the pure love of the Creator for its creations.

“Papa believed that if one just looked around, there would be clues to understanding the greater plan, the Creator’s plan. He came to believe that there is order in the universe and it works in cycles. What is a pattern here is also a pattern in the other higher universes of consciousness and vice versa.”

“Can you give an example, Nana?”

“Well, how about this as a clue: Every night, which is a cycle, you sleep, which is a cycle. You move beyond the physical consciousness and dream. In the morning, you return to a physical body that is different, although only slightly different, from the one you left. New cells have been created. Old cells are being discarded. The body is older in time, and if you remember your dreams, you may also be wiser. Extend that every night cycle to the Soul consciousness and greater cycles of different lives seems reasonable. Anyway, that’s enough of that for now. I’m just yakking away too much”

Ellen had always liked it when her grandparents had gotten philosophical, and she knew she could encourage it but she also knew Nana was now finished with her discourse.

Little Julia moved into a crawl position on the afghan and sort of stretched and then gently collapsed into a prone position. She was beginning to doze a bit and so was Tzu Tzu, who had ventured farther onto the afghan.

Nana, observing that all was calm, motioned to Ellen to follow her. They arose and walked across the room to the hallway and past the bathroom to the doors of the two bedrooms. Nana showed Ellen the guestroom to the left where she and Jacob would stay the night. Ellen observed it was furnished with a white metal-framed futon that had already been opened and made up with sheets, a comforter and two pillows. The other furnishings revealed the room normally served as an office.

They then entered the door on the right side of the hallway into Nana’s bedroom, which had two tall windows that opened toward the gulf waters. The nightstands by Nana’s bed were each topped with a tiffany styled lamp. Between Nana’s bed and the windows was a green recliner facing a wall-mounted flat-screen TV. Squeezed between the recliner and Nana’s bed was a wooden crib. Next to the television was an angled dresser somewhat blocking the closet doors. The theme seemed to be a sort of blonde faux bamboo.

Ellen mused to herself, That crib is where that dresser is supposed to be.

Nana herself looked around the room and spoke, “See this crib, I got it from the building storage pool. They stock a few items like this for visiting family and friends.”

Ellen chuckled, “Nana, why is the crib in your bedroom and not ours?”

“Oh, you two need a good night’s sleep. I can handle Jewel for one night.”

Ellen knew there was no argument that would make sense to her strong-willed grandmother. So she just nodded her head in compliance. “Okay Nana, but you get the diaper duty as well.”

“I’m happy to be of service. I changed plenty of yours.”

Ellen ignored the comment and made a brief survey of Nana’s bedroom. Among the expected items on the skewed dresser, there was an old photograph of Papa. She remembered Papa always with a trimmed beard, first dark brown and then salt and pepper and then all silver. This was a photo, not a portrait, and it was of Papa in his airline captain’s uniform with just an aviator’s moustache.

Nana saw what had captured Ellen’s attention and spoke, “He was a handsome man but hard to get a picture of. There were actually few photos ever taken of him alone just standing and posing. I have one of him alongside the nose of an F-100 he was about to fly to England from Warner Robins, Georgia. He had painted a name on the side of the nose of the fighter jet. He wanted me to see it. It read LADY ELLEN in black shoe dye. It was from the same jar of dye I used when I had painted I LOVE YOU on the roof of our tan Oldsmobile wagon, back at the Myrtle Beach air base. I assumed he would see it when he turned final for landing. I didn’t know it wouldn’t come off the top of the car. For years after, it gave a lot of truck drivers something to hoot their horns about when I drove by.”

“Nana, you’re a hoot.”

“We sold that car really cheap to a black minister in Georgia. He had a little country church and he needed a station wagon for his outreach program to haul the donated furniture and supplies. He said he kind of liked it and it didn’t hurt for God to see that message wherever he drove. Papa and I didn’t see any reason to tell him about the truck drivers.”

Ellen Marie shook her head and grinned. She mused how lucky she was to have had the enjoyment of such characters for grandparents.

The two ladies seated themselves on the edge of Nana’s bed facing the windows looking out over the gulf waters.

Ellie spoke, making an inquiry on a previous subject. “Nana, if that psychic, who had that meeting in Atlanta, was communicating with your dad, is it possible for you to do the same thing directly?

Nana’s answer was swift, “If I had really wanted that discipline, yes.”

Nana smiled, patted Ellen on the knee and said, “Elle, go get Jewel and put her in the crib. I have something to give you from Papa that’s in my closet. It may take a minute for me to get to it.”

Ellen returned with Julia asleep on her shoulder and tucked her into the crib. Nana had already placed on the bed, a box, sort of like a Christmas gift box about twelve by fourteen inches.

Nana leaned toward Ellen and quietly said, “Papa said I would know when to give this to you. The questions you’re asking tell me this is the time. It was something he did a long time ago for you. I have to do a little prep work in the kitchen for dinner. I’ll listen out for Precious Jewel. This is such a nice day. If you want, take the box out to the balcony and look through it.

* * *

Ellen stepped out on the balcony and closed the sliding glass door behind her. She seated herself in a white wicker chair and sat for a moment listening to the soft sounds of the sea and the rich squawking of the sea birds. She placed the box on the small colorful tiled-top iron legged side table to her left between the two balcony chairs and spent a moment more enjoying the scene.

She filled her senses with sights and sounds of the small gulf surf lapping at the white sand some eight plus floors below and then she looked over at the box. She pondered the possible mysteries of the box for a moment, then lifted off the top and slipped it underneath so it wouldn’t blow away.

The first objects she picked from the box were several old photos. The first that Ellen retrieved showed a little pre-school Ellen, wearing a skirted sailor suit, seated next to a table with empty plastic Champagne glasses lined up in rows. There were boats in the background.

The bright sun gave some translucency to the photo and she could see something was written on the back. She turned the photo over and silently read Port Ludlow Yacht Club, Opening Day 1993, Ellie Marie, Princess of C-dock. Ellen looked again at the photo.

She thought to herself, Oh, this is on a video we have. I remember. I was handing out those plastic glasses for the boaters. They were Christening their new boats and toasting with Champagne. Magic Time was the first boat at the bottom of the ramp from shore. Papa had said he was the self-appointed, quite unofficial mayor of C-dock. That was fun. Hmm, now, so what else is in here?

There were some more photos that triggered some vague but slightly familiar memories. Under the photos was an unsealed envelope with some papers in it. On the outside, written by hand were the words, Ellen Marie. Ellen removed the papers and saw it was a letter also written by hand.

Hand written, now that’s something you don’t see much anymore. She unfolded the letter and read:

* * *

November 1993

Port Ludlow, Washington

For: Ellen Marie MacLogan

From: Papa

Dear Elle,

When you are old enough to read this, it is my prayer and expectation that you will have come to know the following few truths by your own experiences. What is written here may just be a reminder to bring what you already know to the front of your consciousness.

The first basic truth is that Soul, the real you, is eternally happy. Soul is joyous in the knowledge that its Creator loves it. Your prime duty here on earth is to reflect that love in your present life. Soul lacks nothing. Soul is complete. When your vibrations are in harmony with Spirit, love and well being are magnetically drawn to act through you. You become a conduit for expansion.

You accomplish this with just a slight shift in your perception of yourself. What you see of yourself in a mirror reflects only that part of your being that has already manifested. You have already come into agreement with those vibrations, but they are only a small part of your full self. You, your complete consciousness, is on a marvelous journey.

Can you ever reach an ultimate destination in an ever-expanding eternal universe, when you are helping that expansion? My answer is: “Probably not!”

The beauty and joy of life is in experiencing the journey. That ever-unfolding tapestry of discovery and creation becomes the adventure. Motion through time fills the consciousness with color and music and tickles the Spirit whenever the lower consciousness is aligned with its own unique source—Soul.

All the richness of the universe can be called upon to assist your empowering journey through your physical life. Spiritual enlightenment is merely rediscovering while in the human body that which you know and realize when you are not in the human body.

You exist in a continuum. You and all others are offsprings of the same Great Source. You are a vibrational being. When you have a yearning for an experience in the world of matter, energy, space, and time, you must match the vibrations of the completed experience in order for it to be revealed to you. You must intentionally become what you desire.

It is normal in this obstructed world with only three dimensions for human beings to bump their heads or stub their toes. There are no mistakes, if they contribute to your knowledge. It is just part of the unfolding for each of us to listen more carefully to our own special tune.

This physical universe is an ideal Spiritual schoolhouse. It is a learning place for all states of consciousness that have manifested physically. While we learn, we are also building the school and refining the curriculum.

Being aware of your awareness allows you an amazing tool to expand your awareness because you have the simple knowledge that you can. Your experiences in time, space, and matter, are your creations. They teach you to demonstrate to yourself your relation to the Source of all consciousness.

As the offspring of this Eternal Source, and with the awareness of that relationship, you will acknowledge that the potential of the universal parent is dormant in the child until the child is ready to bring its inherited potential into manifestation. There is within you an essence that is a reflection of the original impetus, the original thought, or the original dream that energized your consciousness and seeded all creation. You feel it as love. You extend it as love.

* * *

Ellen stopped reading and gazed out over the azure sparkling water of the Gulf of Mexico. Whoa Papa, this is deep stuff. So this is the way you and Nana felt about life. Okay, I’m starting to know you better now. She looked back down at the page and read on.

* * *

Love, peace and knowledge are within you and have been with you since before you first awakened within the restriction of time. You have never been separated from this highest love, but the illusion of time, in which you experience a lag between cause and effect, and being in a world of matter wherein you experience obstruction, may fog the clarity of your greater vision. In such an environment it is easy to forget there is no death for Soul, to forget who you really are.

Many years ago your grandmother and I set out on a quest for Spiritual discovery. Our children, your father, aunts and uncles, were free to agree or not to agree—to study or not to study. We wished to be good examples to them. They watched our trial and error journey, free to make their own decisions. They and we grew in Spiritual understanding, some more than others, some more deeply than others.

Now, Nana and I are your grandparents. We want you to know your Spiritual nature. We will share what we have learned, for you to consider. You may agree or disagree. We love this manifested earthly being that is you and our happy obligation to you is to tell you what we have discovered. You then, may become the teacher.

With my eternal Love,

Papa

P.S. Being a measure of consciousness, time is fungible. I’m now going to have some fun with time. Think of a possible visit you might have made one summer when you were almost thirteen years old. During that visit we talked about things that you wanted to know. I hope you enjoy reading about it as much as I enjoy remembering your visit to our Olympic Peninsula home. It was a great two weeks.

We both will always love you.

Papa

* * *

Ellen let her hands holding the letter from Papa fall into her lap while she contemplated the contents. Ellen thought to herself, Well, what do I know and what do I not know and what is Papa about to tell me? I wanted answers. Maybe Papa left me a jackpot.

A warm light breeze came up, brushed Ellen’s cheek and rustled the papers she was holding. She refolded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. She turned her attention to the remaining contents of the box. What remained was an aging three-hole notebook containing about two hundred or so sheets of typed paper in a manuscript format. Okay, profound words from Papa and now a manuscript. Papa wanted me to have this. I’m feeling very excited about this.

She turned back to the first page of the notebook and saw a title page, PAPA’S MANUSCRIPT. She turned farther past the table of contents. Chapter one was titled Letter to Ellen Marie. It consisted of a typed copy of the letter she had just read. She further opened the notebook and found the page titled Chapter Two. She began to read.