WHY ME
Why Me
by Wakingspirit.com © Inspired by Martin and Loretta
Mitch Lennon arrived at the address his newspaper gave him. It was the start of September. His boss assigned him to write a feature newspaper story on World War Two veterans – he had a deadline for the end of October – it would be published on Remembrance Day. Today he was going to interview Mr. Joseph McVeighty. Ms. McVeighty greeted him. She was a tall stately looking woman with fine cheek bones, long neck, pronounced jawline and long beautiful grey hair. She took him to the family room. Mitch shook hands with Mr. McVeighty, exchanged a few pleasantries and took a sit across from him. Catherine joined her husband on the sofa.
Mr. McVeighty was in better shape than Mitch imagined. He had a full set of thick hair, deep blue eyes and had a muscular build for his age. He was very hansome and when he smiled a youthful charm shined through.
‘Ok, Mr. McVeighty, I’m going to start recording our conversation now,’ said Mitch. ‘Could you start off by telling me your full name for the record?’
‘I always saw September as a month of give and take,’ said Mr. McVeighty. ‘The crops are fully mature, offering us food as we harvest the bounty from the soil and fruit off the vines, corn off the stalks and so on…we take…and the plants are tilled over and left to wither.’
‘So you’re here to record my life story. Well, I’m going to give you a stunning start and finish for your story…I’m almost 90 years-old and my doctor says I’m as healthy as a 40 year old – strong as an ox. However, I know that I will die this September,’ Mr. McVeighty remarked offhandedly.
‘You don’t reach my age without unravelling a few mysteries in life. I’ve known the exact month and year I will die for a long time – since the war. It is written in the stars - I will die in September, 2013. If I last a couple of more weeks to see my birthday I’ll be ninety years-old.'
'Regardless, I won't be around to read your article. My 90th birthday is on September 19th - the day of the full moon - the Harvest Moon. Now ask me if I'm alright with dying...I'd tell you "damn no." But, I'm not a fool...you can't negotiate with death...when it's your time to go you have no choice.'
‘I just hope I get to see the full moon on my birthday,' added Mr. McVeighty.
‘You probably think I’ve lost a few screws in my old age talking like this,’ Mr. McVeighty remarked and pointed to his head.
‘I can assure you that I’m with the program – I’m sharp as a tack,’ Mr. McVeighty said looking Mitch square in the eyes. ‘Alright, suppose you accept that I’m of sound mind…so maybe you think I’m planning to commit suicide over September. I would never do such a thing – remember I’m of sound mind…you’d have to be out of your mind to kill yourself. Besides, taking your own life can get you exiled from Heaven…damn, I’m not even a practicing Catholic anymore, but I don’t want to stack the odds against me just in case there is a Heaven. Just to cover the bases sometimes I pray to Mother Mary or Kwan Yin, the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy or Goddesses from other beliefs – I’ve always prefer female deities,’ Mr. McVeighty said and winked at his wife.
‘This I will tell you…I have no clue the day or how I will die this month – a heart attack, a car accident…I haven’t an inkling. I’ve always loved a good mystery and ever since I found out about the month and year I would die I swore to keep it a secret until that month arrived. Now, you and Catherine are the first to know.’
‘Well, Joe I want to hear the entire story – this should be good,’ Catherine said, sounding half serious and half joking.
‘Is that contraption working alright,’ asked Joseph pointing to Mitch’s small digital recorder.
‘Yes, I’ve got everything you’ve said so far,’ replied Mitch.
‘Alright then you’ll find that my mind doesn’t follow timelines – it’s not because of age, I’ve always been that way – I believe the Universe is in a natural state of chaos,’ said Joseph.
‘Dear, it’s only your Universe that’s in a state of chaos,’ Catherine interrupted. She pointed out the huge bay window to the backyard and said, ‘Mitch, take a look at the state of Joe’s garden.’
The garden was cluttered with all kinds of flowering plants and vines arranged in a haphazard layout. Mitch just finished a story on popular garden trees - the McVeighty's backyard was bordered on all sides by a tall untamed cedar hedge, there was a Japanese Maple, Magnolia, Cherry, Siberian Crab Apple, Russian Olive, Sunburst Lotus and other various trees he could not recognize planted chaotically about the yard. Even with all this messiness, the yard was beautiful. It resembled a small meadow in a forest. But, like a forest meadow it was wild and unruly. The lawn was uneven and the grass failed to grow under the canopy of some of the trees. Garden tools were scattered everywhere.
‘It’s a beautiful array of plants and trees – nice colours,’ replied Mitch.
‘You must have noticed that the garden in the front lawn had order and is well kept – that’s my garden,’ stated Catherine. ‘Some people believe chaos can be turned into order.’ She let out a good hearted laugh and nudged her husband.
‘Ahem,’ Mr. McVeighty cleared his throat and brought the attention back to his story. ‘For the record my name is Joseph McVeighty,’ he said very formally, bending over toward the voice recorder.
'You can call me Joe,' he added with a warm smile.
‘Whatever the state of the Universe, my wife Catherine and I live in a beautiful stately home,’ said Joe as he took full control of the discussion. ‘No old age home for us…we still go for long walks around our neighbourhood and canoeing up at our cottage. We can still take care of ourselves - thank you very much. We bought this house in 1957. It’s worth a small fortune now. I must admit that I grew up and started a career in the golden era following the Second World War. A guy like me with a University degree in engineering, wearing a thirty dollar suit, was guaranteed a job with most any organization back in those days,’ Joe said and modestly smiled.
‘I was making good money at my jobs and every place I worked gave me stock options and bonuses and such… without obsessing about money, in the end I amassed a good deal of wealth. The important things for me were family and friends…and after that I just wanted to help people in general - I was generous with my time and money with less fortunate people. For example, every Thanksgiving when the kids were young we’d take them to the local food bank to join the volunteers – we’d work in the kitchen and prepare and serve dinner to the guests. And as a family we did many other acts of kindness – It wasn’t enough just to donate money, I wanted to be involved and share my love of humanity with Catherine and our kids.’
‘I retired when I was fifty-five years-old. I started doing full-time volunteer work with local charities. I retired with a good pension and solid investments…needs and wants are pretty well taken care of for me and Catherine. And I’m proud to say we raised a son and two daughters who are shining examples of good spirited people – giving more than they take.’
‘As far back as my teen years in the 1930’s and 1940’s I filtered the world in a poetic fashion – I had no choice…I was born with the spirit of an artist. I kept the artist side of me locked in a cage like a tiger at a zoo – it was my Steppenwolf. I’d like to say it was my dad’s influence over me that put me on a conservative path and led me to study engineering. However, I’m a product of the times - growing up in the 1920's and 1930's, my Ottawa blue collar neighbourhood and the influence of my inner city peers. In fact, I know Dad would have liked to see me pursue my artsy side – maybe it was due time for a McVeighty to release the inner artist. Nope, not this McVeighty…I had other plans. I lived through the Great Depression as a kid. I saw neighbourhood families quickly collapse and fall into despair. My dad hung onto his job because he saw such workplace disasters coming so he became a tool and die machinist. The skill was indispensable at any point in the economy – over the collapse of the economy Dad was one of the few men in the neighbourhood that could still put a meal on the table for his wife and kids – my two sisters and I never had to go to the food banks. In fact, during these difficult times we constantly had other families over for dinner. At this young age I was driven by a strong and urgent sense of survival and a need to put a meal on the table…yes for the wife and kids I planned to have someday.’
'I met Catherine...Catherine Binsfeld...when I was twenty years-old. It was the Second World War and I was a fly-boy in the Air Force. She was fifth generation Canadian from Medicine Hat, Alberta. She moved to Ontario to help the war cause - working in a bomb making factory near Hamilton. I was finishing flight school in Toronto. We met at the Palais Royal Dance Hall in May of 1943. Catherine was a volunteer, working the door - ten cents to enter, but it was free for service men. The moment she gave me a ticket I was bewitched - soon after she came into the hall. Bert Niosi "Canada's King of Swing" and his orchestra were playing. The band played Cab Calloway's "Call of the Jitter Bug" even though the song and accompanying dance moves were banded for being rude – it was a daring show of rebellion. I darted across the dance floor and got Catherine up for a dance – of course we danced the forbidden jitterbug, shaking and swinging all over the floor. I unlocked the tiger that night – the artist in me was running wild…and Catherine was the only woman in my sights as I danced with her all night.’
‘“What kind of divine being could have created you,” I asked Catherine once we were up on the dance floor. “From what part of the cosmos could your fiery eyes have come, and who would dare to handle that fire? What sort of physical presence, and what kind of graceful craftsmanship, would have been required to forge your mystical beauty?”’
‘“I can see right through you,” Catherine replied with a challenging and piercing gaze that cut me right down to size.’
Joe looked over and winked at Catherine beside him on the sofa. She reached over and held his hand. Joe gently caressed her hand…and continued with his story.
‘“Are you some kind of William Blake want-to-be,” she then remarked with fire in her eyes.’
‘“I am a humble lamb in awe of the tiger’s fearful symmetry that lies before me,” was my come back.’
‘“Well, I do have a wicked bite…so watch out little lamb,” said Catherine with a demure snicker.’
‘The zookeeper needed to keep my tiger contained and ensure I pursued a normal life and practical career. I knew the tiger trapped in my cage would survive captivity only with a partner of unbridled creativity and zeal - I knew Catherine embodied these traits and more. Obviously, that night I became determined to pursue this woman to the ends of the Earth for her hand in marriage.’
‘The war did drastically alter people’s lives, but it didn’t stop us from living…in fact we were in a fever pitch to live more fully. First, let me tell you at twenty years of age you don’t think or fuss over thoughts of death…not even when you’re in Hell’s kitchen day in and day out. And if you think about death, you do so in theory not in reality. Even the long list of friends killed and injured in combat posted in the Field Command Headquarters didn’t throw you off. Further, I don’t think a twenty year-old today would act any different than we did in our day – we were young brazened kids that lived for action, good times and sex…and romance if it happened to fit into the equation. Believe me, the young women’s outlook on life through those times were no different than the men’s…it takes two to tango. These were hard and fast times.’
‘I believe every new generation likes to think they invented music, parties and sex,’ Joe chuckled.
‘Catherine and I got swallowed up in the depths of a passionate love affair,’ he continued. ‘My dad’s friend in Toronto let us stay rent-free in a small basement apartment near Spadina and College. The romance blossomed in our private and secret hiding place within the heart of the urban jungle. It allowed us to escape and give expression to our passion and romance - we temporarily pushed out the craziness of a world at war. I told Catherine it was our “Oasis in a sea of madness.” She said that was the artist in me talking like that – she was right.’
‘We knew this day would come – four months into our romance I was posted to Britain. It was time to fight the enemy. I proposed marriage. We went to Toronto City Hall, said our vows and signed the papers…knowing we’d have a church wedding when I got back.’
‘In Britain I was flying nightly sorties. I flew a Mosquito fighter plane and escorted Halifax Mk III bombers on their missions. It was in the heat of battle when I landed in the hands of an extraordinary fate.’
‘I had been overseas for almost a year - I had flown over one hundred sorties and was beginning to feel invincible. The guys had a big party to celebrate my achievement. The next day I got the bad news that my hero, Uncle Greg McVeighty, died. Uncle Greg was the Captain of a cargo ship bringing war supplies to England - a German submarine sunk the ship. I grieved and I celebrated. A few days later I was back in the saddle – a mission over France. The squadron was attacked by a swarm of German fighters - Messerschmitt Bf 109s, we called them Me 109s. I engaged them in my Mosquito and protected the bombers. There was an enemy fighter on my tail…I was always aware of my six and could have shook him off like I’ve done a hundred times before. This time was different. Another enemy fighter was firing on a bomber at my twelve o’clock. The Halifax was being ripped to shreds and couldn’t take much more…and my best friend George Case was flying the damn thing.’
‘George and I went back to grade one where we became best friends fighting over a tractor in a sandbox. The combat book tells you to save yourself…as a defender you’re of more value staying alive to keep on fighting back the enemy onslaught. I made a split-second decision to go after the fighter that was attacking George’s bomber and ignored my six – I kept my cool and I felt it was a rational choice, but looking back on it now I know it was a crazy action to take.’
‘I riddled the ME 109 with bullets as I homed in on the target. The German pilot wasn’t backing off… he was being stubborn and was determined to finish off the Halifax – his mistake. I kept firing on him and his plane burst into flames. Poor guy, he didn’t have time to jump out - no ejection seat back in those days. I always felt sorry for fallen pilots regardless of which side they fought on. The Halifax escaped the attacking swarm and carried on its mission. George was safe and would fly many more missions and go home after the war to raise a family and be the Best Man at my wedding. I veered off quickly to shake the Me 109 that was still hot on my tail. He must have been a novice pilot – good thing because his aim and timing was bad, he was missing more than hitting me but given the extended time he had while I was defending the Halifax, his sporadic hits had been tearing my plane to pieces. My plane was beat up but I shook his ME 109 off my tail. My tail was between my legs as I banked my Mosquito into a sharp left turn to skip out of the fight and head back to my airfield. Half way through the turn I lost control of the plane – I went into a downward spiral. I made a split-second decision – I bailed out of the plane. It exploded seconds afterwards.’
‘It's an incredibly strange feeling as you toss yourself from a plane. In this brief moment, time slows down and your adrenaline frantically pumps as every ounce of concentration is on the mechanics of opening the canopy, freeing yourself from the cockpit, avoiding flying debris, finding your orientation in the air at over 200 miles an hour while spinning out of control 8,000 feet above ground, stabilizing your body and your fall, assessing the wind conditions and choosing the right moment to open the parachute. Control and timing was critical. None of the training jumps could simulate these conditions…this was a first – you don’t have time to think or to be fearful – you just switch into full action mode.’
‘Even more incredible was how much stranger it felt after the parachute opened and I was floating in the sky – first being swept upward a couple of hundred feet then on a downward descent to the ground. The rush of adrenaline and being totally caught up in the moment was gone while I was gently falling back to Earth. The descent was peaceful and almost surreal - about 6,000 feet off the ground. By this time my plane had exploded into a million pieces and the air battle was well above and beyond me – it posed no threat to me anymore. I was suspended in complete darkness as this was September seventeenth, 1944. I remember it well. It was the day of the new moon – darkness was my best friend that night. It would be the strangest night of my life.’
‘It would take about fifteen minutes to reach the ground. It was the longest fifteen minutes of my life. Earlier I told you that a twenty year-old does not dwell on thoughts about death…this holds true…as I floated down to the ground at about ten feet per second…a wild range of thoughts went through my head. First, I thought about Catherine and then my mom, dad, my two sisters and my Uncle Greg, then I thought about William Blake and poetry writing, then I thought about what kind of career I should pursue after the war – maybe a philosophy teacher…“no - not practical enough,” said my inner zoo keeper. After about ten minutes of descent the objects below came into focus…I could make out the individual trees, ditches in the fields and buildings in a small village…I began having terrible thoughts, like the Germans would find and torture me. In my mind I was sure that I was going to live…it was a matter of the horrors that awaited me that preoccupied my thoughts and brought fear to my core. If I could have envisioned death it may have calmed me down.’
‘I hit the ground with a muffled thud…training kicked in…I bent my legs and rolled with the fall. I tumbled, did a few somersaults and came to rest… I was quickly on my knees, freed myself from the parachute harness, pulled in the canopy and tucked it under a few nearby rocks. I was unscathed…thank goodness.’
‘The first thing I thought as I hit the ground was what would Uncle Greg do in this situation.’
‘“Why me,” I felt like crying out.'
'It was my childhood mantra whenever I was sick or had some other painful set back.’
‘“Why me,” I repeatedly cried out along with moans of pain from my bedroom one evening when I was about twelve years-old. I was in the grips of a painful stomach ache.’
‘“Because you suffer so beautifully,” shouted Uncle Greg from the living room.’
‘My mom and dad and two sisters laughed hysterically and so did I – although it physically hurt.’
‘Uncle Greg was my mentor as a child. He fought in World War One and in the Spanish Revolution of 1936. He won all kinds of medals for valour. After World War One he became a journalist based out of India. During this time he traveled extensively through Europe, Africa, China and the Middle East. He came back to Ottawa when I was eight years-old. He never had kids of his own so he took me under his wing and taught me worldly things…like William Blake’s poems. Besides being a scholarly man, Uncle Greg was a rugged outdoors survivalist and a man who could take care of himself in a barroom brawl.’
‘One of the most important lessons Uncle Greg taught me was not to feel sorry for myself and above all never wallow in depression – drop the “why me" attitude. He told me that responsibility lies with my own mind's way of experiencing suffering and happiness…most people accept happiness and reject suffering. Uncle Greg said I must allow myself to fully process suffering and hardship in the same way I do happiness. In time I learnt to accept hardship as a natural occurrence and face up to it – that’s why I excelled at basic training under the boot heel of my unrelenting Drill Sergeant. I progressed to learn and understand the complete state of my mind and how to achieve a healthy balance between the states of happiness and suffering and other naturally occurring positive and negative forces that spiral in and out of our lives. Later, I understood that this was a pretty mature lesson for a 14 year-old boy to start applying – commencing to take full ownership for my state of mind and the conditions of my Earthly life.’
‘I was sixteen years-old when Uncle Greg told me that in addition to taking ownership of my Well-Being, the pinnacle of reaching a healthy state of mind was to understand and appreciate the happiness and suffering of other individuals and of the community as a whole. This was a tall order for a sixteen year-old kid to put into practice – I was pretty focused on myself, but over the years I closely observed Uncle Greg and the way he empathised with others. I saw that he was extremely virtuous and that he conducted his affairs in a gracious manner – always concerned for others.’
‘One time his business partner secretly took out a large sum of Uncle Greg’s money from the business with the intent to pay it back after he put it down on a sure bet at the Connaught Park Race Track in Aylmer - the horse stumbled out of the gate and the sure bet fell through. Uncle Greg felt sorry for his friend the "embezzler", instead of pressing charges and seeing his partner go to jail, Uncle Greg severed the partnership and ended their friendship. I told Uncle Greg in his shoes I would have wanted to see my ex-partner suffer for his crime. I asked him why he was so forgiving. He told me you have to put yourself in the shoes of others. He felt compassion for his business partner’s wife and two kids - sending his partner to jail would ruin their lives. He knew his partner could never repay the debt. Uncle Greg ended a lifelong friendship - not so much to punish his friend as to teach him a life lesson.’
‘“Good friendships mean more than large sums of money,” Uncle Greg would say. His former partner never even acknowledged the sacrifice that Uncle Greg made. I know that Uncle Greg never held any hatred toward his ex-partner or anyone that wronged him for that matter.’
‘“If you overcome the thought of hatred…this will be equal to overcoming all your foes,” Uncle Greg would say.’
‘Many years later I heard that his former partner was abandoned by his wife and his two kids disowned him. This and many and other incidents involving Uncle Greg taught me about karma long before most Westerners knew about it. He showed me the path I must walk and the obstacles I must willingly accept in order to generate good karma. Over time I slowly adopted these virtues.’
‘I remember a particular time when Uncle Greg was very proud of me. An engineering company was hiring only two senior high school students to help with survey work throughout the summer. After the interviews, me and Bob Smith were offered the jobs, but I knew how badly Peter Johnson needed the job to help support his family after his dad died. I heard that Peter was the third choice in the interviews so I turned down the job and they hired Peter. Uncle Greg told me that acts of such loving-kindness will pave my path to good health and happiness as long as I’m motivated by righteousness and do not seek or ask for rewards or recognition over such acts of compassion.’
'"Always remember that fate deals out the cards - sometimes it stacks the deck in your favour and...sometimes not. The thing is I believe that there is a cosmic force that ensures you get what you deserve in life," he told me. Uncle Greg then took off a necklace he always wore and gave it to me. He told me it was a talisman - on the leather strap was a silver medallion with a small jade stone in the centre of a Pyramid. I've worn it every day from that point onward.'
‘”You are now on a stunning ride with an amazing destination,” Uncle Greg proudly said to me that day.’
‘Fate blessed me with great friends…after I gave up that job for Peter, he and I became good life time friends. Pete and Lynda made me the Godfather of their first child, Susan. Pete died last year - I never did tell him that I turned down that summer job to help him out.’
‘But, I digress…back to the war and being shot down over France,’ said Joe.
‘Mustering up the determination that Uncle Greg taught me to harness, I found additional courage and strength and crawled across a muddy field and through barbwire defences to a ditch. Across several farm fields I could see about twenty German soldiers on foot. I was sure they did not see me, but I knew they were out on patrol to capture shot down air crew. I stayed low and edged my way along the ditch to hide my escape through the open fields. I made it to the nearby village unseen. I was hoping to stumble across and find help from the locals or the French Resistance fighters.’
‘The sun was starting to rise - I needed to quickly find a place to hide. I looked into several houses - the village was deserted. In the centre of town the old Town Hall was half destroyed from a bomb hit. Across the cobblestone street from the Town Hall was an old stage house theatre - I wedged open the door. The morning light cast a strange faint glow across the floor. The place inside was riddled with costumes and props scattered all over. The hall looked like it could sit one hundred people on the main floor and about seventy-five on the three upper balconies. On stage there were many trap doors and hiding places. Backstage there was a huge storage room and there must have been about six dressing rooms and two offices – a great place for a game of hide and seek.’
‘The Germans would be searching the village…I knew this would be the best place to hide and stay undercover until the soldiers were gone.’
‘I started looking around the building and found a good hiding spot. It was a concealed trap door where the Director of the play could whisper lines to an actor struggling with the script. I did one last look around the building to plan an escape route in case I had to scramble out quickly. At the side of the stage was the strangest thing. It was a mechanical fortune telling machine – like the ones I’d see as a kid in the old penny arcades or when the carnival came to town. This fortune telling machine was more sophisticated and fancier. It had beautiful inlaid woods, ornate carvings and at the base were solid brass plates with scenes of the Pyramids being built…it looked very old. The most striking feature was the figure inside the glass encasement – it was an incredibly life-like sultan with olive skin and a black goatee, wearing fine jewellery, a white and gold linen turban, red silk shirt and black vest. The machine was resting on a cart like it was about to be moved out of the building.’
‘I was about to move on when the lights inside the glass encasement came on and the sultan eyes started to move and the eyelids started to blink – its face turned toward me and its piercing black eyes seem to look right at me. It arms started to move and the box stated making soft mechanical buzzing noises like highly precision gears turning in a record player, and then soft gypsy music started playing. I went to unplug it but there was no cord.’
‘“The Sultan, Osman the Great will tell your fortune,” a deep voice came piping out of the machine.'
'The figure’s lips starting moving to mimic the speech – exactly in sync with the record. I was stunned - every hair on my body stood on end and my stomach dropped to the floor. At the time I didn’t even pause to wonder why it spoke English. Then the machine spat out a blue card – it landed at my feet. You’re not going to believe what happened next. The card told me not hide in the Director’s hidden spot if I ever wanted to see Catherine again – that’s right the card mentioned Catherine by name. It directed me to a hiding spot in a secret balcony location on the second floor – the card even told me how to access the hidden door.’
‘Now, just to support my story I kept the cards I collected that day,’ exclaimed Joe.
‘Uncle Greg prepared me for unknown or unexplained interventions in life – he said when they happen don’t questions them…seize and act on them. He told me once that his car, phonograph, toilet, ice box, oven and other possessions kept unexplainably breaking down when he was in the presence of his new girlfriend during the Spanish Civil War – as it turned out she was a spy for the enemy…what a nasty piece of work she was, he would say. He told me nature was sending him signals…warning him to stay away from her. He ignored the signs – he never did that again.’
‘The blue fortune card was clearly one of those unexplained interventions in life. I gathered my stuff, and tucked myself into the second floor hiding space as the card indicated. There was a small slot that allowed me to look out over the entire first floor sitting area and stage.’
‘About a half an hour later a German Commander came crashing into the theatre.’
‘He yelled out an order as he reached the centre of the stage. Six more soldiers came rushing in.’
‘Then the Commander issued an order to one of the six soldiers as he pointed up to the balcony – I heard him call the soldier by name – "Hermann" he said.’
‘I controlled my breathing and stayed silent. I saw the soldier the Commander called Hermann leave the stage. Minutes later I heard Hermann poking around on the balcony very close to my hiding spot.’
‘Hermann seemed ready to end his search when from below the Commander yelled up to him by name directing him where to look.’
‘I don’t know how this Commander would have known, but he led Hermann to the secret door of my hiding place…Hermann opened the door and looked into the space. I was tucked in as deep as possibly…I kept my service revolver holstered with no intent to use it. I stayed composed and quiet, hoping it was too dark for him to see me. I could see him though…this Hermann was about my age with blue eyes and dark sandy brown hair – he looked like my friend Pete. He seemed to be staring right at me, and then he closed the door. Saved by the darkness - I can’t tell you how relieved I was.’
‘This Hermann fellow yelled back to the Commander from the balcony. He must have told him the coast was clear.’
‘I could see all five of the soldiers gathered back on the stage with the commander – Hermann was not yet back from the balcony. As they huddled on stage to map out the next search area the fortune telling machine started churning and making sounds. The Sultan, Osman the Great started speaking German and spat out six cards – yellow cards. Each soldier picked up a yellow card and read it – they looked panicky after reading it. One of the soldiers violently kicked the machine. Immediately they all started running out of the building. Herman, the soldier that almost found me had just showed up on the stage – his comrades were already out the door. He looked up from the stage to my hiding place and I swore he gave me a slight wave and wink, but that was just my over-active imagination. As he stood alone on the stage the machine spat out a blue card.’
‘His Commander shouted out an order from outside – clearly for Hermann to get his ass out there. Herman picked up the blue card off the floor, tucked it away in his pocket and ran out.’
‘After an hour it appeared that the Germans had completed searching the village and had left to another town. I went down to the stage floor. The machine began to tick loudly like a malfunctioning clock tower and a clung sound issued out every few seconds like an overworked home radiator, it seemed to be crippled by the soldier’s kick. The gypsy music turned on at an uneven pitch and speed and only one of the three lights in the window came on. The Sultan, Osman the Great looked at me and I swear he smiled - a blue card spat out of the machine. The Sultan, Osman the Great closed his eyes and his head slummed down over his chest and the machine fell silent. It was sad – it was like seeing the life slipping out of a fallen friend. I picked up the card - odd thing - the message was in German. Outside the building I found a yellow card that one of the fleeing German soldiers must have dropped. I put both cards into my jacket pocket.’
‘I stuck around the village for a few more hours to ensure the coast was clear. Lucky for me, ten French Resistance fighters showed up and I connected with them. Four of them spoke fluent English. I was told I’d be back on a boat to England in three days. Over the next three days I became good friends with Henry. The day after my rescue I told Henry about my strange encounter at the stage house theatre in the village. Henry told me the stage house was levelled to the ground by a bomb. He spoke and read German so I gave him the two cards to interpret.’
‘The yellow card that was dropped by one of the fleeing soldiers outside the stage house was addressed to a "Wolfgang" and said that he should leave the building immediately – a bomb is about to destroy it.’
‘Henry translated the blue card intended for me and wrote out the words in English on the other side of the card.' Joe pulled out the card and passed it to Mitch to read - the translation read:
“If you overcome the thought of hatred…this will be equal to overcoming all your foes. You are good man and you will live a long healthy life. You will die in September of 2013. Shine on…Osman the Great.”’
‘Holy smokes,’ said Joe. ‘Can you believe it, this Osman the Great referred to Catherine by name on one card and on the second card used Uncle Greg’s expression “If you overcome the thought of hatred…this will be equal to overcoming all your foes.”’
'Weird as it sounds, that's how I know these cards are for real and I'm going to die this month - I just hope I make it to my birthday on September 19th. It would be nice to make it to ninety years-old,' said Joseph. 'A respectable age,' he added.
‘Oh, Joe you’re as strong as a horse and as fit as a fiddle,’ said Catherine as she held his hand tighter. ‘Your doctor said he can’t find a thing wrong with you.’
Mitch looked uncomfortable and bewildered. Joe thought that maybe his story upset him.
‘Hey, Mitch…are you alright,’ asked Joe. ‘The thought of death doesn’t scare me so don’t worry on my account.’
‘It’s not that,’ said Mitch. ‘It’s just that for this news story I’ve been interviewing all the Canadian veterans of World War Two - even Germans veterans now living here. The other day I interviewed a German veteran named Hermann Orth who moved to Canada in 1958. He’s living in Ottawa and is dying of cancer – the doctors say he won’t last the month.’
‘In my interview with him,' Mitch continued saying, ‘he told me the story about searching an old stage house theatre in France looking for Allied air crew that were shot down – he mentioned there was a strange fortune telling machine in the building. He said the machine started ejecting yellow fortune cards with each of the soldiers names on it telling them to get out of the building…it was about to be destroyed by a bomb – just like you said. He mentioned searching the balcony. His Commander was a theatre stage crew worker before the war and told him about the hidden trapdoor up on the balcony. He opened it and could see a young soldier hiding in the secret passage. He felt sorry for him so he did not turn him in. The fortune telling machine spooked the other soldiers so they had already left the building. Back on the main floor he took one last look at the fortune telling machine – it ejected a blue card. The message was in English which he thought was odd, but he was fluent in English and could read the message. After the war he wanted to go back and see the place but he heard the building was flatted by a bomb.’
‘In fact,’ said Mitch, ‘Hermann gave me the card to scan for a picture to go along with my article…like you he had faith in the card. Now he was on his death bed and this didn't line up with his fortune on the card - he couldn’t believe the card turned out to be wrong about his fate. I have the card right here.’
Mitch pulled out the blue card and handed it to Joe.
Joe put on his reading glasses and read it out loud.
“You have great courage and compassion…your life will take you on a stunning ride with an amazing destination. You and your wife will both live happily and love deeply. You both will live to be over a hundred years-old – giving joy to the world. Shine on…Osman the Great”
Catherine rushed off to the foyer closet. She put on her jacket and pulled out a coat for Joe.
‘Mitch, tell us which hospital Hermann is in,’ asked Catherine. ‘We’re going to visit him right now,’ she added.
‘I can take you there – I know he’ll be overwhelmed with joy to see you,’ Mitch replied.
Joe and Catherine got into Mitch’s car.
‘You know monarch butterflies migrate this time of year,’ noted Catherine as they drove along Carling Avenue, adding, ‘I like to think that people who die in September are at peace with life and are like monarch butterflies leaving on a magical and spellbound voyage to their deaths.’
Joe looked out the car window and saw dozens of monarch butterflies dancing over the harvested corn fields of the Experimental Farm.
‘This will be another stunning ride on an amazing journey,’ Joe saWhy Me
by Wakingspirit.com © Inspired by Martin and Loretta
Mitch Lennon arrived at the address his newspaper gave him. It was the start of September. His boss assigned him to write a feature newspaper story on World War Two veterans – he had a deadline for the end of October – it would be published on Remembrance Day. Today he was going to interview Mr. Joseph McVeighty. Ms. McVeighty greeted him. She was a tall stately looking woman with fine cheek bones, long neck, pronounced jawline and long beautiful grey hair. She took him to the family room. Mitch shook hands with Mr. McVeighty, exchanged a few pleasantries and took a sit across from him. Catherine joined her husband on the sofa.
Mr. McVeighty was in better shape than Mitch imagined. He had a full set of thick hair, deep blue eyes and had a muscular build for his age. He was very hansome and when he smiled a youthful charm shined through.
‘Ok, Mr. McVeighty, I’m going to start recording our conversation now,’ said Mitch. ‘Could you start off by telling me your full name for the record?’
‘I always saw September as a month of give and take,’ said Mr. McVeighty. ‘The crops are fully mature, offering us food as we harvest the bounty from the soil and fruit off the vines, corn off the stalks and so on…we take…and the plants are tilled over and left to wither.’
‘So you’re here to record my life story. Well, I’m going to give you a stunning start and finish for your story…I’m almost 90 years-old and my doctor says I’m as healthy as a 40 year old – strong as an ox. However, I know that I will die this September,’ Mr. McVeighty remarked offhandedly.
‘You don’t reach my age without unravelling a few mysteries in life. I’ve known the exact month and year I will die for a long time – since the war. It is written in the stars - I will die in September, 2013. If I last a couple of more weeks to see my birthday I’ll be ninety years-old.'
'Regardless, I won't be around to read your article. My 90th birthday is on September 19th - the day of the full moon - the Harvest Moon. Now ask me if I'm alright with dying...I'd tell you "damn no." But, I'm not a fool...you can't negotiate with death...when it's your time to go you have no choice.'
‘I just hope I get to see the full moon on my birthday,' added Mr. McVeighty.
‘You probably think I’ve lost a few screws in my old age talking like this,’ Mr. McVeighty remarked and pointed to his head.
‘I can assure you that I’m with the program – I’m sharp as a tack,’ Mr. McVeighty said looking Mitch square in the eyes. ‘Alright, suppose you accept that I’m of sound mind…so maybe you think I’m planning to commit suicide over September. I would never do such a thing – remember I’m of sound mind…you’d have to be out of your mind to kill yourself. Besides, taking your own life can get you exiled from Heaven…damn, I’m not even a practicing Catholic anymore, but I don’t want to stack the odds against me just in case there is a Heaven. Just to cover the bases sometimes I pray to Mother Mary or Kwan Yin, the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy or Goddesses from other beliefs – I’ve always prefer female deities,’ Mr. McVeighty said and winked at his wife.
‘This I will tell you…I have no clue the day or how I will die this month – a heart attack, a car accident…I haven’t an inkling. I’ve always loved a good mystery and ever since I found out about the month and year I would die I swore to keep it a secret until that month arrived. Now, you and Catherine are the first to know.’
‘Well, Joe I want to hear the entire story – this should be good,’ Catherine said, sounding half serious and half joking.
‘Is that contraption working alright,’ asked Joseph pointing to Mitch’s small digital recorder.
‘Yes, I’ve got everything you’ve said so far,’ replied Mitch.
‘Alright then you’ll find that my mind doesn’t follow timelines – it’s not because of age, I’ve always been that way – I believe the Universe is in a natural state of chaos,’ said Joseph.
‘Dear, it’s only your Universe that’s in a state of chaos,’ Catherine interrupted. She pointed out the huge bay window to the backyard and said, ‘Mitch, take a look at the state of Joe’s garden.’
The garden was cluttered with all kinds of flowering plants and vines arranged in a haphazard layout. Mitch just finished a story on popular garden trees - the McVeighty's backyard was bordered on all sides by a tall untamed cedar hedge, there was a Japanese Maple, Magnolia, Cherry, Siberian Crab Apple, Russian Olive, Sunburst Lotus and other various trees he could not recognize planted chaotically about the yard. Even with all this messiness, the yard was beautiful. It resembled a small meadow in a forest. But, like a forest meadow it was wild and unruly. The lawn was uneven and the grass failed to grow under the canopy of some of the trees. Garden tools were scattered everywhere.
‘It’s a beautiful array of plants and trees – nice colours,’ replied Mitch.
‘You must have noticed that the garden in the front lawn had order and is well kept – that’s my garden,’ stated Catherine. ‘Some people believe chaos can be turned into order.’ She let out a good hearted laugh and nudged her husband.
‘Ahem,’ Mr. McVeighty cleared his throat and brought the attention back to his story. ‘For the record my name is Joseph McVeighty,’ he said very formally, bending over toward the voice recorder.
'You can call me Joe,' he added with a warm smile.
‘Whatever the state of the Universe, my wife Catherine and I live in a beautiful stately home,’ said Joe as he took full control of the discussion. ‘No old age home for us…we still go for long walks around our neighbourhood and canoeing up at our cottage. We can still take care of ourselves - thank you very much. We bought this house in 1957. It’s worth a small fortune now. I must admit that I grew up and started a career in the golden era following the Second World War. A guy like me with a University degree in engineering, wearing a thirty dollar suit, was guaranteed a job with most any organization back in those days,’ Joe said and modestly smiled.
‘I was making good money at my jobs and every place I worked gave me stock options and bonuses and such… without obsessing about money, in the end I amassed a good deal of wealth. The important things for me were family and friends…and after that I just wanted to help people in general - I was generous with my time and money with less fortunate people. For example, every Thanksgiving when the kids were young we’d take them to the local food bank to join the volunteers – we’d work in the kitchen and prepare and serve dinner to the guests. And as a family we did many other acts of kindness – It wasn’t enough just to donate money, I wanted to be involved and share my love of humanity with Catherine and our kids.’
‘I retired when I was fifty-five years-old. I started doing full-time volunteer work with local charities. I retired with a good pension and solid investments…needs and wants are pretty well taken care of for me and Catherine. And I’m proud to say we raised a son and two daughters who are shining examples of good spirited people – giving more than they take.’
‘As far back as my teen years in the 1930’s and 1940’s I filtered the world in a poetic fashion – I had no choice…I was born with the spirit of an artist. I kept the artist side of me locked in a cage like a tiger at a zoo – it was my Steppenwolf. I’d like to say it was my dad’s influence over me that put me on a conservative path and led me to study engineering. However, I’m a product of the times - growing up in the 1920's and 1930's, my Ottawa blue collar neighbourhood and the influence of my inner city peers. In fact, I know Dad would have liked to see me pursue my artsy side – maybe it was due time for a McVeighty to release the inner artist. Nope, not this McVeighty…I had other plans. I lived through the Great Depression as a kid. I saw neighbourhood families quickly collapse and fall into despair. My dad hung onto his job because he saw such workplace disasters coming so he became a tool and die machinist. The skill was indispensable at any point in the economy – over the collapse of the economy Dad was one of the few men in the neighbourhood that could still put a meal on the table for his wife and kids – my two sisters and I never had to go to the food banks. In fact, during these difficult times we constantly had other families over for dinner. At this young age I was driven by a strong and urgent sense of survival and a need to put a meal on the table…yes for the wife and kids I planned to have someday.’
'I met Catherine...Catherine Binsfeld...when I was twenty years-old. It was the Second World War and I was a fly-boy in the Air Force. She was fifth generation Canadian from Medicine Hat, Alberta. She moved to Ontario to help the war cause - working in a bomb making factory near Hamilton. I was finishing flight school in Toronto. We met at the Palais Royal Dance Hall in May of 1943. Catherine was a volunteer, working the door - ten cents to enter, but it was free for service men. The moment she gave me a ticket I was bewitched - soon after she came into the hall. Bert Niosi "Canada's King of Swing" and his orchestra were playing. The band played Cab Calloway's "Call of the Jitter Bug" even though the song and accompanying dance moves were banded for being rude – it was a daring show of rebellion. I darted across the dance floor and got Catherine up for a dance – of course we danced the forbidden jitterbug, shaking and swinging all over the floor. I unlocked the tiger that night – the artist in me was running wild…and Catherine was the only woman in my sights as I danced with her all night.’
‘“What kind of divine being could have created you,” I asked Catherine once we were up on the dance floor. “From what part of the cosmos could your fiery eyes have come, and who would dare to handle that fire? What sort of physical presence, and what kind of graceful craftsmanship, would have been required to forge your mystical beauty?”’
‘“I can see right through you,” Catherine replied with a challenging and piercing gaze that cut me right down to size.’
Joe looked over and winked at Catherine beside him on the sofa. She reached over and held his hand. Joe gently caressed her hand…and continued with his story.
‘“Are you some kind of William Blake want-to-be,” she then remarked with fire in her eyes.’
‘“I am a humble lamb in awe of the tiger’s fearful symmetry that lies before me,” was my come back.’
‘“Well, I do have a wicked bite…so watch out little lamb,” said Catherine with a demure snicker.’
‘The zookeeper needed to keep my tiger contained and ensure I pursued a normal life and practical career. I knew the tiger trapped in my cage would survive captivity only with a partner of unbridled creativity and zeal - I knew Catherine embodied these traits and more. Obviously, that night I became determined to pursue this woman to the ends of the Earth for her hand in marriage.’
‘The war did drastically alter people’s lives, but it didn’t stop us from living…in fact we were in a fever pitch to live more fully. First, let me tell you at twenty years of age you don’t think or fuss over thoughts of death…not even when you’re in Hell’s kitchen day in and day out. And if you think about death, you do so in theory not in reality. Even the long list of friends killed and injured in combat posted in the Field Command Headquarters didn’t throw you off. Further, I don’t think a twenty year-old today would act any different than we did in our day – we were young brazened kids that lived for action, good times and sex…and romance if it happened to fit into the equation. Believe me, the young women’s outlook on life through those times were no different than the men’s…it takes two to tango. These were hard and fast times.’
‘I believe every new generation likes to think they invented music, parties and sex,’ Joe chuckled.
‘Catherine and I got swallowed up in the depths of a passionate love affair,’ he continued. ‘My dad’s friend in Toronto let us stay rent-free in a small basement apartment near Spadina and College. The romance blossomed in our private and secret hiding place within the heart of the urban jungle. It allowed us to escape and give expression to our passion and romance - we temporarily pushed out the craziness of a world at war. I told Catherine it was our “Oasis in a sea of madness.” She said that was the artist in me talking like that – she was right.’
‘We knew this day would come – four months into our romance I was posted to Britain. It was time to fight the enemy. I proposed marriage. We went to Toronto City Hall, said our vows and signed the papers…knowing we’d have a church wedding when I got back.’
‘In Britain I was flying nightly sorties. I flew a Mosquito fighter plane and escorted Halifax Mk III bombers on their missions. It was in the heat of battle when I landed in the hands of an extraordinary fate.’
‘I had been overseas for almost a year - I had flown over one hundred sorties and was beginning to feel invincible. The guys had a big party to celebrate my achievement. The next day I got the bad news that my hero, Uncle Greg McVeighty, died. Uncle Greg was the Captain of a cargo ship bringing war supplies to England - a German submarine sunk the ship. I grieved and I celebrated. A few days later I was back in the saddle – a mission over France. The squadron was attacked by a swarm of German fighters - Messerschmitt Bf 109s, we called them Me 109s. I engaged them in my Mosquito and protected the bombers. There was an enemy fighter on my tail…I was always aware of my six and could have shook him off like I’ve done a hundred times before. This time was different. Another enemy fighter was firing on a bomber at my twelve o’clock. The Halifax was being ripped to shreds and couldn’t take much more…and my best friend George Case was flying the damn thing.’
‘George and I went back to grade one where we became best friends fighting over a tractor in a sandbox. The combat book tells you to save yourself…as a defender you’re of more value staying alive to keep on fighting back the enemy onslaught. I made a split-second decision to go after the fighter that was attacking George’s bomber and ignored my six – I kept my cool and I felt it was a rational choice, but looking back on it now I know it was a crazy action to take.’
‘I riddled the ME 109 with bullets as I homed in on the target. The German pilot wasn’t backing off… he was being stubborn and was determined to finish off the Halifax – his mistake. I kept firing on him and his plane burst into flames. Poor guy, he didn’t have time to jump out - no ejection seat back in those days. I always felt sorry for fallen pilots regardless of which side they fought on. The Halifax escaped the attacking swarm and carried on its mission. George was safe and would fly many more missions and go home after the war to raise a family and be the Best Man at my wedding. I veered off quickly to shake the Me 109 that was still hot on my tail. He must have been a novice pilot – good thing because his aim and timing was bad, he was missing more than hitting me but given the extended time he had while I was defending the Halifax, his sporadic hits had been tearing my plane to pieces. My plane was beat up but I shook his ME 109 off my tail. My tail was between my legs as I banked my Mosquito into a sharp left turn to skip out of the fight and head back to my airfield. Half way through the turn I lost control of the plane – I went into a downward spiral. I made a split-second decision – I bailed out of the plane. It exploded seconds afterwards.’
‘It's an incredibly strange feeling as you toss yourself from a plane. In this brief moment, time slows down and your adrenaline frantically pumps as every ounce of concentration is on the mechanics of opening the canopy, freeing yourself from the cockpit, avoiding flying debris, finding your orientation in the air at over 200 miles an hour while spinning out of control 8,000 feet above ground, stabilizing your body and your fall, assessing the wind conditions and choosing the right moment to open the parachute. Control and timing was critical. None of the training jumps could simulate these conditions…this was a first – you don’t have time to think or to be fearful – you just switch into full action mode.’
‘Even more incredible was how much stranger it felt after the parachute opened and I was floating in the sky – first being swept upward a couple of hundred feet then on a downward descent to the ground. The rush of adrenaline and being totally caught up in the moment was gone while I was gently falling back to Earth. The descent was peaceful and almost surreal - about 6,000 feet off the ground. By this time my plane had exploded into a million pieces and the air battle was well above and beyond me – it posed no threat to me anymore. I was suspended in complete darkness as this was September seventeenth, 1944. I remember it well. It was the day of the new moon – darkness was my best friend that night. It would be the strangest night of my life.’
‘It would take about ten minutes to reach the ground. It was the longest ten minutes of my life. Earlier I told you that a twenty year-old does not dwell on thoughts about death…this holds true…as I floated down to the ground at about ten feet per second…a wild range of thoughts went through my head. First, I thought about Catherine and then my mom, dad, my two sisters and my Uncle Greg, then I thought about William Blake and poetry writing, then I thought about what kind of career I should pursue after the war – maybe a philosophy teacher…“no - not practical enough,” said my inner zoo keeper. After about ten minutes of descent the objects below came into focus…I could make out the individual trees, ditches in the fields and buildings in a small village…I began having terrible thoughts, like the Germans would find and torture me. In my mind I was sure that I was going to live…it was a matter of the horrors that awaited me that preoccupied my thoughts and brought fear to my core. If I could have envisioned death it may have calmed me down.’
‘I hit the ground with a muffled thud…training kicked in…I bent my legs and rolled with the fall. I tumbled, did a few somersaults and came to rest… I was quickly on my knees, freed myself from the parachute harness, pulled in the canopy and tucked it under a few nearby rocks. I was unscathed…thank goodness.’
‘The first thing I thought as I hit the ground was what would Uncle Greg do in this situation.’
‘“Why me,” I felt like crying out.'
'It was my childhood mantra whenever I was sick or had some other painful set back.’
‘“Why me,” I repeatedly cried out along with moans of pain from my bedroom one evening when I was about twelve years-old. I was in the grips of a painful stomach ache.’
‘“Because you suffer so beautifully,” shouted Uncle Greg from the living room.’
‘My mom and dad and two sisters laughed hysterically and so did I – although it physically hurt.’
‘Uncle Greg was my mentor as a child. He fought in World War One and in the Spanish Revolution of 1936. He won all kinds of medals for valour. After World War One he became a journalist based out of India. During this time he traveled extensively through Europe, Africa, China and the Middle East. He came back to Ottawa when I was eight years-old. He never had kids of his own so he took me under his wing and taught me worldly things…like William Blake’s poems. Besides being a scholarly man, Uncle Greg was a rugged outdoors survivalist and a man who could take care of himself in a barroom brawl.’
‘One of the most important lessons Uncle Greg taught me was not to feel sorry for myself and above all never wallow in depression – drop the “why me" attitude. He told me that responsibility lies with my own mind's way of experiencing suffering and happiness…most people accept happiness and reject suffering. Uncle Greg said I must allow myself to fully process suffering and hardship in the same way I do happiness. In time I learnt to accept hardship as a natural occurrence and face up to it – that’s why I excelled at basic training under the boot heel of my unrelenting Drill Sergeant. I progressed to learn and understand the complete state of my mind and how to achieve a healthy balance between the states of happiness and suffering and other naturally occurring positive and negative forces that spiral in and out of our lives. Later, I understood that this was a pretty mature lesson for a 14 year-old boy to start applying – commencing to take full ownership for my state of mind and the conditions of my Earthly life.’
‘I was sixteen years-old when Uncle Greg told me that in addition to taking ownership of my Well-Being, the pinnacle of reaching a healthy state of mind was to understand and appreciate the happiness and suffering of other individuals and of the community as a whole. This was a tall order for a sixteen year-old kid to put into practice – I was pretty focused on myself, but over the years I closely observed Uncle Greg and the way he empathised with others. I saw that he was extremely virtuous and that he conducted his affairs in a gracious manner – always concerned for others.’
‘One time his business partner secretly took out a large sum of Uncle Greg’s money from the business with the intent to pay it back after he put it down on a sure bet at the Connaught Park Race Track in Aylmer - the horse stumbled out of the gate and the sure bet fell through. Uncle Greg felt sorry for his friend the "embezzler", instead of pressing charges and seeing his partner go to jail, Uncle Greg severed the partnership and ended their friendship. I told Uncle Greg in his shoes I would have wanted to see my ex-partner suffer for his crime. I asked him why he was so forgiving. He told me you have to put yourself in the shoes of others. He felt compassion for his business partner’s wife and two kids - sending his partner to jail would ruin their lives. He knew his partner could never repay the debt. Uncle Greg ended a lifelong friendship - not so much to punish his friend as to teach him a life lesson.’
‘“Good friendships mean more than large sums of money,” Uncle Greg would say. His former partner never even acknowledged the sacrifice that Uncle Greg made. I know that Uncle Greg never held any hatred toward his ex-partner or anyone that wronged him for that matter.’
‘“If you overcome the thought of hatred…this will be equal to overcoming all your foes,” Uncle Greg would say.’
‘Many years later I heard that his former partner was abandoned by his wife and his two kids disowned him. This and many and other incidents involving Uncle Greg taught me about karma long before most Westerners knew about it. He showed me the path I must walk and the obstacles I must willingly accept in order to generate good karma. Over time I slowly adopted these virtues.’
‘I remember a particular time when Uncle Greg was very proud of me. An engineering company was hiring only two senior high school students to help with survey work throughout the summer. After the interviews, me and Bob Smith were offered the jobs, but I knew how badly Peter Johnson needed the job to help support his family after his dad died. I heard that Peter was the third choice in the interviews so I turned down the job and they hired Peter. Uncle Greg told me that acts of such loving-kindness will pave my path to good health and happiness as long as I’m motivated by righteousness and do not seek or ask for rewards or recognition over such acts of compassion.’
'"Always remember that fate deals out the cards - sometimes it stacks the deck in your favour and...sometimes not. The thing is I believe that there is a cosmic force that ensures you get what you deserve in life," he told me. Uncle Greg then took off a necklace he always wore and gave it to me. He told me it was a talisman - on the leather strap was a silver medallion with a small jade stone in the centre of a Pyramid. I've worn it every day from that point onward.'
‘”You are now on a stunning ride with an amazing destination,” Uncle Greg proudly said to me that day.’
‘Fate blessed me with great friends…after I gave up that job for Peter, he and I became good life time friends. Pete and Lynda made me the Godfather of their first child, Susan. Pete died last year - I never did tell him that I turned down that summer job to help him out.’
‘But, I digress…back to the war and being shot down over France,’ said Joe.
‘Mustering up the determination that Uncle Greg taught me to harness, I found additional courage and strength and crawled across a muddy field and through barbwire defences to a ditch. Across several farm fields I could see about twenty German soldiers on foot. I was sure they did not see me, but I knew they were out on patrol to capture shot down air crew. I stayed low and edged my way along the ditch to hide my escape through the open fields. I made it to the nearby village unseen. I was hoping to stumble across and find help from the locals or the French Resistance fighters.’
‘The sun was starting to rise - I needed to quickly find a place to hide. I looked into several houses - the village was deserted. In the centre of town the old Town Hall was half destroyed from a bomb hit. Across the cobblestone street from the Town Hall was an old stage house theatre - I wedged open the door. The morning light cast a strange faint glow across the floor. The place inside was riddled with costumes and props scattered all over. The hall looked like it could sit one hundred people on the main floor and about seventy-five on the three upper balconies. On stage there were many trap doors and hiding places. Backstage there was a huge storage room and there must have been about six dressing rooms and two offices – a great place for a game of hide and seek.’
‘The Germans would be searching the village…I knew this would be the best place to hide and stay undercover until the soldiers were gone.’
‘I started looking around the building and found a good hiding spot. It was a concealed trap door where the Director of the play could whisper lines to an actor struggling with the script. I did one last look around the building to plan an escape route in case I had to scramble out quickly. At the side of the stage was the strangest thing. It was a mechanical fortune telling machine – like the ones I’d see as a kid in the old penny arcades or when the carnival came to town. This fortune telling machine was more sophisticated and fancier. It had beautiful inlaid woods, ornate carvings and at the base were solid brass plates with scenes of the Pyramids being built…it looked very old. The most striking feature was the figure inside the glass encasement – it was an incredibly life-like sultan with olive skin and a black goatee, wearing fine jewellery, a white and gold linen turban, red silk shirt and black vest. The machine was resting on a cart like it was about to be moved out of the building.’
‘I was about to move on when the lights inside the glass encasement came on and the sultan eyes started to move and the eyelids started to blink – its face turned toward me and its piercing black eyes seem to look right at me. It arms started to move and the box stated making soft mechanical buzzing noises like highly precision gears turning in a record player, and then soft gypsy music started playing. I went to unplug it but there was no cord.’
‘“The Sultan, Osman the Great will tell your fortune,” a deep voice came piping out of the machine.'
'The figure’s lips starting moving to mimic the speech – exactly in sync with the record. I was stunned - every hair on my body stood on end and my stomach dropped to the floor. At the time I didn’t even pause to wonder why it spoke English. Then the machine spat out a blue card – it landed at my feet. You’re not going to believe what happened next. The card told me not hide in the Director’s hidden spot if I ever wanted to see Catherine again – that’s right the card mentioned Catherine by name. It directed me to a hiding spot in a secret balcony location on the second floor – the card even told me how to access the hidden door.’
‘Now, just to support my story I kept the cards I collected that day,’ exclaimed Joe.
‘Uncle Greg prepared me for unknown or unexplained interventions in life – he said when they happen don’t questions them…seize and act on them. He told me once that his car, phonograph, toilet, ice box, oven and other possessions kept unexplainably breaking down when he was in the presence of his new girlfriend during the Spanish Civil War – as it turned out she was a spy for the enemy…what a nasty piece of work she was, he would say. He told me nature was sending him signals…warning him to stay away from her. He ignored the signs – he never did that again.’
‘The blue fortune card was clearly one of those unexplained interventions in life. I gathered my stuff, and tucked myself into the second floor hiding space as the card indicated. There was a small slot that allowed me to look out over the entire first floor sitting area and stage.’
‘About a half an hour later a German Commander came crashing into the theatre.’
‘He yelled out an order as he reached the centre of the stage. Six more soldiers came rushing in.’
‘Then the Commander issued an order to one of the six soldiers as he pointed up to the balcony – I heard him call the soldier by name – "Hermann" he said.’
‘I controlled my breathing and stayed silent. I saw the soldier the Commander called Hermann leave the stage. Minutes later I heard Hermann poking around on the balcony very close to my hiding spot.’
‘Hermann seemed ready to end his search when from below the Commander yelled up to him by name directing him where to look.’
‘I don’t know how this Commander would have known, but he led Hermann to the secret door of my hiding place…Hermann opened the door and looked into the space. I was tucked in as deep as possibly…I kept my service revolver holstered with no intent to use it. I stayed composed and quiet, hoping it was too dark for him to see me. I could see him though…this Hermann was about my age with blue eyes and dark sandy brown hair – he looked like my friend Pete. He seemed to be staring right at me, and then he closed the door. Saved by the darkness - I can’t tell you how relieved I was.’
‘This Hermann fellow yelled back to the Commander from the balcony. He must have told him the coast was clear.’
‘I could see all five of the soldiers gathered back on the stage with the commander – Hermann was not yet back from the balcony. As they huddled on stage to map out the next search area the fortune telling machine started churning and making sounds. The Sultan, Osman the Great started speaking German and spat out six cards – yellow cards. Each soldier picked up a yellow card and read it – they looked panicky after reading it. One of the soldiers violently kicked the machine. Immediately they all started running out of the building. Herman, the soldier that almost found me had just showed up on the stage – his comrades were already out the door. He looked up from the stage to my hiding place and I swore he gave me a slight wave and wink, but that was just my over-active imagination. As he stood alone on the stage the machine spat out a blue card.’
‘His Commander shouted out an order from outside – clearly for Hermann to get his ass out there. Herman picked up the blue card off the floor, tucked it away in his pocket and ran out.’
‘After an hour it appeared that the Germans had completed searching the village and had left to another town. I went down to the stage floor. The machine began to tick loudly like a malfunctioning clock tower and a clung sound issued out every few seconds like an overworked home radiator, it seemed to be crippled by the soldier’s kick. The gypsy music turned on at an uneven pitch and speed and only one of the three lights in the window came on. The Sultan, Osman the Great looked at me and I swear he smiled - a blue card spat out of the machine. The Sultan, Osman the Great closed his eyes and his head slummed down over his chest and the machine fell silent. It was sad – it was like seeing the life slipping out of a fallen friend. I picked up the card - odd thing - the message was in German. Outside the building I found a yellow card that one of the fleeing German soldiers must have dropped. I put both cards into my jacket pocket.’
‘I stuck around the village for a few more hours to ensure the coast was clear. Lucky for me, ten French Resistance fighters showed up and I connected with them. Four of them spoke fluent English. I was told I’d be back on a boat to England in three days. Over the next three days I became good friends with Henry. The day after my rescue I told Henry about my strange encounter at the stage house theatre in the village. Henry told me the stage house was levelled to the ground by a bomb. He spoke and read German so I gave him the two cards to interpret.’
‘The yellow card that was dropped by one of the fleeing soldiers outside the stage house was addressed to a "Wolfgang" and said that he should leave the building immediately – a bomb is about to destroy it.’
‘Henry translated the blue card intended for me and wrote out the words in English on the other side of the card.' Joe pulled out the card and passed it to Mitch to read - the translation read:
“If you overcome the thought of hatred…this will be equal to overcoming all your foes. You are good man and you will live a long healthy life. You will die in September of 2013. Shine on…Osman the Great.”’
‘Holy smokes,’ said Joe. ‘Can you believe it, this Osman the Great referred to Catherine by name on one card and on the second card used Uncle Greg’s expression “If you overcome the thought of hatred…this will be equal to overcoming all your foes.”’
'Weird as it sounds, that's how I know these cards are for real and I'm going to die this month - I just hope I make it to my birthday on September 19th. It would be nice to make it to ninety years-old,' said Joseph. 'A respectable age,' he added.
‘Oh, Joe you’re as strong as a horse and as fit as a fiddle,’ said Catherine as she held his hand tighter. ‘Your doctor said he can’t find a thing wrong with you.’
Mitch looked uncomfortable and bewildered. Joe thought that maybe his story upset him.
‘Hey, Mitch…are you alright,’ asked Joe. ‘The thought of death doesn’t scare me so don’t worry on my account.’
‘It’s not that,’ said Mitch. ‘It’s just that for this news story I’ve been interviewing all the Canadian veterans of World War Two - even Germans veterans now living here. The other day I interviewed a German veteran named Hermann Orth who moved to Canada in 1958. He’s living in Ottawa and is dying of cancer – the doctors say he won’t last the month.’
‘In my interview with him,' Mitch continued saying, ‘he told me the story about searching an old stage house theatre in France looking for Allied air crew that were shot down – he mentioned there was a strange fortune telling machine in the building. He said the machine started ejecting yellow fortune cards with each of the soldiers names on it telling them to get out of the building…it was about to be destroyed by a bomb – just like you said. He mentioned searching the balcony. His Commander was a theatre stage crew worker before the war and told him about the hidden trapdoor up on the balcony. He opened it and could see a young soldier hiding in the secret passage. He felt sorry for him so he did not turn him in. The fortune telling machine spooked the other soldiers so they had already left the building. Back on the main floor he took one last look at the fortune telling machine – it ejected a blue card. The message was in English which he thought was odd, but he was fluent in English and could read the message. After the war he wanted to go back and see the place but he heard the building was flatted by a bomb.’
‘In fact,’ said Mitch, ‘Hermann gave me the card to scan for a picture to go along with my article…like you he had faith in the card. Now he was on his death bed and this didn't line up with his fortune on the card - he couldn’t believe the card turned out to be wrong about his fate. I have the card right here.’
Mitch pulled out the blue card and handed it to Joe.
Joe put on his reading glasses and read it out loud.
“You have great courage and compassion…your life will take you on a stunning ride with an amazing destination. You and your wife will both live happily and love deeply. You both will live to be over a hundred years-old – giving joy to the world. Shine on…Osman the Great”
Catherine rushed off to the foyer closet. She put on her jacket and pulled out a coat for Joe.
‘Mitch, tell us which hospital Hermann is in,’ asked Catherine. ‘We’re going to visit him right now,’ she added.
‘I can take you there – I know he’ll be overwhelmed with joy to see you,’ Mitch replied.
Joe and Catherine got into Mitch’s car.
‘You know monarch butterflies migrate this time of year,’ noted Catherine as they drove along Carling Avenue, adding, ‘I like to think that people who die in September are at peace with life and are like monarch butterflies leaving on a magical and spellbound voyage to their deaths.’
Joe looked out the car window and saw dozens of monarch butterflies dancing over the harvested corn fields of the Experimental Farm.
‘This will be another stunning ride on an amazing journey,’ Joe said.
