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In the early 1900s a painter named Maxfield

Parrish introduced the world to his enchanting visions of
paradise. His ability to capture nuances like satisfaction and
awe influenced generations of artists and was the inspiration
for the layout of this issue.
So often we race through our lives without pausing
at the extraordinary. Art, in its most compelling form,
accentuates the beauty of truth in a way that’s impossible to
ignore. There’s a responsibility that is assumed by the artist,
once embarked down the creative path. The unspoken standard is to create work that is universally understood, but leaves enough ambiguity to encourage speculation; a worthy goal, notwithstanding how exceedingly difficult it is to
accomplish.

I’ve always been fascinated by the passion of old-world
artistry and the power it has to initiate thought. My vision
for this magazine was to explore the connection between
the literal, visual and, ultimately, musical art forms.
Much care went into the selection and arrangement of the
sketches and paintings. Whenever possible the original
concepts were honored

***Rocking chair***

The war wages on when we least expect it
So real, you’d swear there’s something more
Something we don’t understand
Some of the sweetest times in my life were cut short
Only shadows left to remind me of
how bold and vigorous our hearts truly were

Solace taken for granted
Now  found only in dreams

I return to a time before we understood the wisdom of hesitation.

We were sent to look for treasures, I return with only my faith.
I pray this time, it is enough.

***Barrel***

The ominous, majestic power of the falls
ignites my senses like few experiences can.
Perhaps because we had to deal with events
like this in our everyday life,
we can never stray too far.
I’m driven by a longing I don’t even comprehend myself.
I must, at any cost, challenge her.
To touch that primitive cord we seemed to have misplaced
along with our courage.
There’s a dimension of our personality we so expertly suppress
that longs for the instinctive struggle,
I’m starting to believe we became too proficient at.

***Deja Vu***

It was one of those days you felt grateful for the cold.
The secure feeling of your coat felt so soothing.
How nice it is to be young!
The walk to school was long but you never really noticed.
The endless adventure of it all seemed so timeless.
She always smiled as she walked by.
It’s hard to believe I was ever that shy.
So much has happened since then, but I still remember her face.

***Candlelight***

I knew she was talking, but I couldn’t hear a word she said
For hours I’m sure we talked
I only wanted to tell her one thing
How many times I’ve said the words
With only myself to hear
What I wouldn’t have given not to have had to
Inevitable
No one dared look up. The color of the rain brought us all to tears
We entered a new era, one which would have to be faced without our
Heart

***Peace***

If you listen really close, you can hear them
Like faint whispers they comfort you
On a breezy autumn day you’re never alone

***Pot of gold***
I’m flying higher and faster now
There’s something I must find
I must hurry before I’m discovered
I’ve come close so many times
If only I could be clever enough
To smuggle the bounty to the other side
How many days I’d smile

***Mirror***

I’m hanging by a thread and get the strangest impression they want it to break.
Once in my life, once before I die, Id like to accomplish something resistant
to criticism of the insecure elite. Why can’t I flourish among the privileged?
My whole life I’ve been at war with the complaisant status quo and the system that
encourages that way of thinking.
I’m not sure how much fight I’ve got left. I’m sure that gives
a morbid sense of pleasure to the powers that be who also gave up.
It’s very lonely when you’re trying to attain something remarkable.
I hope I never forget how daunting the journey can be.
And when the day comes that I see myself reflected in the aspirations of another,
I hope I’ll find the strength to offer encouragement even if I‘m also being consumed
by bitterness. If I’m able, that may be the most remarkable thing of all.

***The Scientist***

I was once asked what I miss most.
I replied with silence. I should have said;
“Solitude. Simple, selfish solitude. That’s what I miss.”
Some would say the exquisite rapture of a Monterey vista,
or the lethargic grandeur of the Smoky Mountains
are just glorious accidents.
I have my doubts.
Ten years, countless countries. Not one tangible conclusion.
What was I doing? I had to be doing more than biding time.
There was always something in the background. The question.
Of course the question. I was trying, although mostly failing,
to understand the universal passion that keeps us all going.
Were so different, but we love to live.
I often wondered if it wasn’t the lack of choices that
reluctantly drives us on.
The definition of success and contentment,
whether revolving around monetary or social status,
still eludes so many of us.
I’m not sure what I expected. After all this time, I’m tormented;
not because I didn’t find the answer,
but the fact that I’m the only one surprised.

***Blue Line***

Nearly without notice,
before I can solidify a single thought,
I’ve found a seat, responded to three questions,
and began my day
It’s amazing how easily we disengage
when confronted with the banality of our mechanized existence.
Five stops to go.
Just another charge we adults must endure to earn the rights of civility.
We desperately want to believe were unique in our lamenting.
Clinging to this precious notion of individualism at all cost.
It’s unnerving to trust someone to formulate the same logical conclusion
that we alone see clearly. We’re also just as resentful if other people can’t
follow our vision exactly as we designed it. We always want it both ways.
It’s my stop,
What would happen if our worst fears were true, and after all our efforts,
the concept of being different is an illusion after all?
Would the empire crumble?
There’s one paradox that still eludes me on my best day:
A simple smile. For a culture on the verge of understanding the universe,
we’re still startled by the surge of emotion brought on by a smile.
I’m sure I’ll figure it all out eventually. Luckily,
I have every day to sort through it—
Not that I’m in any hurry, though

***Three strikes***

For a second I was there, in the park,
children oblivious to my presence, laughing and playing with such light hearts
I’m nearly overcome with serenity.
The gentle fragrance of summer permeates my dominion
The secret refuge no one can enter, nor would they want too.

***Ruins***
Like a tourist, I watch them dig and sift.
A seemingly endless search for clues.
Inch by inch with envious dedication,
we’re finally able to reconstruct the last days of societies
that were considered impregnable.
As the past slowly gives up her secrets,
we gingerly hold out hope. As daunting as it seems,
history can still produce exceptions.

***Insomnia***

All he wanted now was to escape the silence
Knowingly embrace our deepest regret
To settle for mediocrity
How easy it is for us to justify
How sweet it must be not to be a coward

***Mother earth***

The day’s closing
I still have the moon
Where’s my home?
Must I choose?
Many lands I want to see
None more special
Then what’s under my feet

***Epistle***

Sustained in darkness
Voices long ago deserted by fate, resurrected by a beam of light.
With mischievous abandonment, I proceed to devour the sacred text.
Regardless of the hypocrisy, however awkward, the chance to peer
into the private domain of another’s life is relentlessly compelling.
A restless heart, a warm farewell, a lost love. For a brief moment
I’m lost in time. What was it like? I wanted to be there, to know,
to feel, to go somewhere and be something other than myself.
As I finished reading the letter, I wondered what became of them
and what others would think about our letters.
Some themes are timeless.
At least I’d like to think so, however futilely romantic it may be.

***Soldier***

I remember standing near the lake, the moon rising through the water.
You could almost touch it. All around were snow- covered trees
that seemed to glow.
It was so unbelievably beautiful it was hard not to cry.
Forgive me, Father.
They never told us.
If I had known,
I wouldn’t have let them
So many colors. Everything alive. You can breathe. The air!
Oh, I love this air!
Who could’ve envisioned a place so wondrous
I don’t want to leave. Not ever. We don’t have anything like this.
Everything I need is here: The water, the trees, even the insects.
How I miss their sound!
Imagine missing the sound of an insect.
Maybe I can stay. Start again. They wont miss one man.
If I could just be part of something this divine for one day, it’d be worth the
life of someone important. I would say my own, but I don’t have one.
I thought I did, but not after today.

***Toss and Turn***

I couldn’t take my eyes of it, the way the sun reflected of the grass,
like a mysterious painting everything had its place.
The wind gently carried a mist across the field,
as it approached a hill it started to glow.
As I stood there watching, I thought heard something strange.
It was difficult to make out, but it sounded like crying.
I begin to walk through a dark forest and above the sound of strange birds.
Through the fog I see a stream, though not possible,
it appears to be hurt and a color of which I’ve never seen.
I reach a field where the corns short and brown.
I’m running now.
I finally see the shore.
The fish aren’t moving, but floating aimlessly on the waves.
I want to wake up, to know it was a dream. I have to believe there’s still time.

***Native***

Mutually intrigued,
we just stared for the longest time
The pinnacle of my efforts manifested effortlessly.
He longed for nothing because he didn’t realize
there were things to long for.
He had arrived because there was nowhere else to go.
Contentment derived from necessity.
There’s a lesson here somewhere and I’m terribly
afraid I’m going to find it.

***Memphis***

I dream of a world not yet painless.
Everything I perceive as reality is rooted in freedom, yet I’m drawn
to the plight of a generation that ended before I began.
I wake to a cause, and for the first time, I understand sacrifice.
My life means something, I’m no longer an ordinary man huddled in the bosom of routine.
I’m connected, I’m worthy. If only it wasn’t too late.
In an age ravaged by intolerance, he stood for something larger then himself.
He wanted to change the world.
Most of the time, I just want to survive.
It seems so inadequate, but I ponder his legacy.
He asked if it was possible to resist apathy.
Occasionally, at a vulnerable moment, I believe it is.
As I lay safe under the fruit of martyrs.
I am again defined by freedom.
My mind is allowed to wander.
But, imagination is barren without heroes.
Their words, their deeds, their vision,
Waken in us our own aspirations.
They honor us by their convictions.
We honor them by our potential.

***Innocence***

In a way she never left.
The purity of her beauty still lingers in my every thought.
Through her eyes, I gazed upon paradise.
For a precious moment, she took me with her,
A visitor in her world, where the lack of complexity
shines brighter than the sun.

***Reflection***

Standing there looking out at the endless plateau,
The moon frozen, but exuding a personal beauty,
A rare shade of yellow, seemingly meant for my singular appreciation.
It’s moments like these I’m left wondering if anything can surpass
the healthy exuberance you feel on a slow, breezy desert night.
I can’t say if I’m closer now than when I began my quest;
I do know it matters less and less as time goes by.

A recent Gallop poll suggests that
75% of Americans don’t believe in reincarnation. Add
to this, the scathing treatment by Paul Edwards in his
book titled “Reincarnation”, A critical examination, one
would think the idea of returning from death is destined to become a mythological footnote.

Not that there aren’t true believers in the scientific community,

Most notably Ian Stevenson, whose landmark research
into the past lives of Children makes compelling  reading. The problem is,
with reincarnation, like most paranormal phenomenon, cannot be repeated at will,
the corner stone, of publication and legitimacy. Voices, like Stevenson seem
like faint whispers in the forest. Still, a few cases
have even the staunchest critics like Paul Edwards, mentioned earlier, grasping
for explanations.

Up until the provincial synod of 543, reincarnation was a recognized part of
Christian mythology. During the Synod it was decided
that the teachings of Origen, ( a major Cathlic writer and
philosopher and reincarnation’s greatest voice,) would be considered heresy.

Origen believed that sometimes, but not always, it is
necessary to return to mortality to learn needed lessons in order to achieve salvation,
or pay back a karmic debt. It is widely believed
that Constantine, the Roman emperor, was so determined
to not allow a more-thenone-lifetime chance atredemption he single-handedly

deleted all references to reincarnation from the bible.
The facts, however, bare out Constantine only organized the Second Council of
Nicaea 325 ad. It is at this meeting the bible took on it’s current form. What books
ultimately ended up in the bible was a subject of fierce
debate. Books that referenced reincarnation may
have gotten the knife, but unfortunately to the conspiracy theorists, there is no
proof that reincarnation was ever singled out, in fact,
there is no record of reincarnation ever being referenced at all during those meetings.

While mainstream Christianity adopted a one life time ideology, Christian sects such as the Gnostic
(Literally meaning to know) kept the belief of reincarnation alive. Of course, eastern religions like Hinduism have always held reincarnation as a centerpiece of their faith. Although, returning to the earthly realm as a cow does tend to limit the appeal of the concept, at least for westerners.

If it is ever is proven
that the sole lives on, it may be based on the bizarre incidents of responsive xenoglossy. Xeno (Latin for foreign) glossy (Greek for tongue). While critics are quick to point out that most cases of xenoglossy are mere
jibberish ramblings, the responsive type, however, cannot be easily dismissed.

Two cases, in particular, stand out and have withstood scrutiny.
What makes these cases intriguing stems from the subjects ability to
speak in a language unlearned in their present lives. There are only limited explanations
to how this is possible, namely; explanations are fraud, cryptoamnesia (forgotten knowledge) telepathy,
possession, or reincarnation.

Consider the first case of a Indian women named Uttara Huddar, while in the hospital for a dermatology condition, people began to notice a stark change in her mood. Uttara was 33 at the time and nothing else was made of it until during a
Yoga class, a alien presence emerged and began speaking Bengali. Uttara could only speak Marathi.

It was confirmed that neither Uttara or her family spoke Bengali.
This unwelcomed invasion lasted eight years.
It appears Sharada died at 23, and lived out her life in the first half of the 19th century, but could not face the fact she was dead. The stress this phenomena has caused Utera and her family is hard to imagine.

The second case revolves around the wife of a Methodist minister, Dolores Jay, who in 1970 began
speaking and writing in German. Dolores began calling herself Gretchen, a 16- year-old German girl who had a limited understanding of English and spoke imprecise German. She claimed her full name was Gretchen Gottlieb, daughter of the
mayor of Eberswalde, Germany, and felt she died at sixteen. Through investigation, it was later determined she lived during the late 19th century.

Strangely, up until this event occurred, Dolores Jay had never spoke German or even studied the language.

Whether on not these cases prove reincarnation is
still an open question. Clearly, they deserve further study and debate. It should be further noted that Gretchen and Sharada could write German and Bengali respectively. The combination of speaking and writing in an alien language lend
considerable weight to their authenticity. After careful and meticulous investigation these cases remained unexplained.
(Source “Guiley,
Rosemary Ellen”

Harper” Encyclopedia of Mystical
And Paranormal Experience’

New York: Harper
Collins, 1991 [ISBN 0-06-
250366-9] 30.)

In his book 20 cases suggestive of Reincarnation, Dr. Stevenson points out that of the 1200 or so cases
that have been investigated, all have weaknesses. But the lack of alternative explanations lend someone with an
open mind to conclude reincarnation is more then a myth. The sole, it appears,
is more then just the mind of its occupant. Existence may transcend this four dimensional world we dwell in.

Or, at the very least, the evidence shows our current state of existence is much more layered and complex then science would have us believe.

More likely than not, we will not learn all the answers to deaths mysteries.
But after researching what is known, there is reason to be optimistic something indeed lies beyond our senses; perhaps a universal truth, that encompasses all religions and philosophies.

It will take much more evidence to convince skeptics of an afterlife. The supernatural explanation is not an option for most scientists.

Perhaps this is related to some kind of karmic debt

that Origen spoke of.

WHAT
PEOPLE ARE
FASCINATED BY O u r *l i s t* o f* u n l i k e l y* b u t *t r u e* f a c t s :

15 CERTAIN TIBETAN
Buddhists perform a ritual
involving controlled lucid
dreaming and generate body
heat to the point of drying
wet garments in the
Himalayan winter

14 THE CASE OF
EASTERN
FLIGHT 401
After the tragic crash of
Eastern Airlines flight 401:
Several credible witnesses
saw and in some cases spoke
to the ghost Captain Repo
on flights that had recycled
equipment from the doomed
airliner installed on their
Flights

13 CELLULAR MEMORY
In what appears to be life
after death for organ donors,
recipients of organ transplants assume some of the
characteristics of the donor
including personality, tastes,
and cravings. (ABC TV)
Something to consider
before we harvest animal
parts to be used in humans.

SPONTANEOUS
12 HUMAN COMBUSTION
While the debate rages on as
far as to the cause, eye witness
testimony to an actual event
describe it as being burned
from the inside out.

11 CATTLE MUTILATION
The first known animal
mutilation case was in the
late sixties, a time when
portable lasers that would
have been required to make
the incisions, hadn’t been
invented yet.

10 BLOWING SMOKE
A huge strip of coal beneath
the surface is burning out of
control in northern China.
It stretches out some 1500
miles, with a burn rate of 10-
200 million tons per year. As
of yet, no one knows how to
extinguish it.

9 HOT ANTS
“Fruit flies and Red harvester
ants at the Hanford Nuclear
Complex in Richland,
Washington are deemed
radioactive and therefore
could spread radioactivity
around.” (Associated Press,
1998) (It should be noted
that Hanford is where
weapon grade plutonium is
produced.

8 THE FIRST PROFESSION
The Adelie penguin
exchanges sexual favors for
rocks to build a nest after
she becomes pregnant.
Fortunately, on Ross island
in the Antarctic, there are
plenty of takers among the
male species.

7 AGELESS SCIENCE
“H Lee Sweeney isolated the
gene that produces the hormone that normally maintains
muscle tissue, wrapped it
into a benign virus and
injected it into the muscle of
laboratory mice whose muscles were deteriorating either
to muscular dystrophy or
age and the muscles returned
to youthful vigor and health.
(Pennsylvania “Muscle
Institute, 1998)

6 PHANTOM JET
An F106A jet fighter over
Montana in 1970, went into
an “uncontrollable flat spin
and three amazing things
happened.“, first the aircraft
took over and ejected the
pilot. Second it recovered
from the spin. And third
landed safely all by itself.
The Jet is currently displayed at the (United States
Air Force Museum in Dayton
Ohio)

5 THE STORE OF
RONALD OPUS
“In march 1994 Ronald Opus
left a suicide note and
jumped from the 10th floor
and as he passed his parents’
apartment his father fired
what he thought was an
unloaded shotgun at his wife
but she slipped and fell and
the shot killed Ronald
instead. Ronald had secretly
loaded the gun to arrange
his father to accidentally kill
his mother and jumped
when he became despondent
over the apparent failure of
his plot; he did not know
that window washers had
erected a safety net and that
he could not have died from
the fall.” (Don Harper, The
American Association of
Forensic Sciences)

4 THE STOREOF
GLORIA RAMIREZ

“On February 19, 1994 a
woman in cardiac arrest was
brought to Riverside General
hospital. When a nurse drew
blood, it released a powerful
stench. The nurse passed out
and the rest of the medical
team began to collapse.
Pathologists who conducted
the autopsy also became sick
even though they wore
space age ‘toxic suits’.”
(The Los Angeles Times)

3 . WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS

The Trent U.F.O. pictures
are possibly the world’s most
famous photos of what
appears to be a real U.F.O.
The Condom report( the
report commissioned by the
Department of Defense to
debug U.F.O.s) classified it
as an “unknown”. Numerous
analysis have been conducted on the photo including
one by Dr. Bruce Maccabee,
an ex-Navy optical analyst.
Dr. Maccabee is convinced
based on interviews with the
Trents and acquaintances
and his own exhaustive
analysis, that the Trents, in
1950, lacked the intelligence
or sophistication to succeed
at such a convincing hoax.
Till this day, the photos
remain unexplained.

2 READY SET NO-GO

Since 1966, at least four
unexplainable occurrences
have led to possibly breaches
of security at Malmstrom
A.F.B. in Montana.
In two of the events,1966 and
1967, the status for missile
launch mysteriously went to
no-go. Another event in
1975 resulted in altering the
missile guidance coordinates.
In three of the Malstrom
events U.F.O.s were seen by
base personnel; and in the
1975 case, jets were scrambled to identify the craft but
were unsuccessful.

1 HEAVY RAINS
All throughout history there
have been reports of unusual
rainfalls. Objects said to have
fallen from the sky include
(but are not limited to):
beans, seeds, stones, straw,
insects, fish, frogs, meat,
blood, money, and huge
chunks of ice. Although science credits such natural
phenomena to whirlwinds,
for most objects falling from
the sky that explanation falls
apart when it is pointed out
that most of what falls contain (for example) a single
species of fish, and there is
no mud, water plants, or
other animals to be found.
(Shepard, Leslie A., ed.
Encyclopedia of Occultism and
Parapsychology, 3rd ed.
Detroit: Gale Research, Inc.,
1991 F.)

In addition, house-sized ice
cubes have recently been discovered. Apparently 40,000
of these things fall into earth
and disintegrate in the
atmosphere each day. This
has been going on for billions
of years. and could explain
why we have oceans and life
on earth. It’s still going on
and not just here but on the
other planets as well. (Louis
Frank of the University of
Iowa)

One hypothesis for the reason behind the ice balls could
be the healing of our ozone
by an unknown cosmic friend.

Fredrich Greenpeace who, coincidentally, is a
member of Greenpeace USA. interviewed
Fourth Wall Founder during a recent Maui
Writers Conference

By literary standards, Mr. Erfurt, at thirty-nine, is considered by many a late bloomer.
“At twenty-three I had talent, but lacked
passion, that’s the difference now.” He told me.
If eluding definition is every artists goal, from
what I could tell, Mr. Erfurt may have succeeded.
Far from the brash, opinionated, and dogmatic
stereotype of an editor, I found him to be unassuming and surprisingly soft spoken. When asked
what was his motivation was for this project, he
responded: ”If I had to describe my passion in one
sweeping statement, I guess it would be the love
of the nostalgia that never was. There was a time
when being a generalist meant something. I’m
trying to reinvent that.”

A gentleman in the eighteenth century
among other things, held a B.A. “What a degree
meant in those days was simply you were literate
and could form independent opinions. An arts
degree two hundred years ago was dignified. I’m a
little embarrassed it took me sixteen years to earn
mine, but I’m proud it was a general one.
I like to think I’m rebelling against the specialized
direction of education.”

As we walked along a lonely stretch of
Hawaiian coastline, I remembered the promise I
made to suspend my cynicism during the interview.
I was taught at Journalism school that a good
reporter should keep all options open, just in case.
I realized, after our discussion ended, I failed
to learn the secret behind the title Fourth Wall.
I suspect, by the smile on his face and the glean in
his eye, he realized it too.

The I n t e r v i e w

Fredrich: The underlying tone of Part Two
of your magazine seems to be about the
eminent dangers facing the Earth. Do you
hold an apocalyptic view of the future?

Founder: Not really. The planet as a whole
is very resilient. What worries me is the fate
of the food chain and to a lesser degree, the
human race.

Fredrich: Your writing has been compared
to Rachel Carson, who’s been called the
mother of the environmental movement.
How would you compare her approach with
yours?

Founder: Rachel was a marine biologist who
had a voice. Writing, for her, was akin to a
religious experience. She was quite a maverick with her writing style. As we know, scientists are expected to write in a matter-of-fact
tone for peer credibility reasons. This doesn’t allow for passionate writing. Rachel Carson’s book, Silent Spring, challenged the
status quo by blending passionate prose with scientific expertise. It was a risky approach that could have resulted in diluting her work
as a whole. In the end, however, she was vindicated by her impeccable case against the pesticide industry. She was nothing short of a contemporary hero. I, on the other hand, wanted to
prophetize about possible outcomes without anything specific in mind. We both have a voice, and to be able to express it in this
medium is quite satisfying.

Fredrich: Do you feel as one person you’re
somewhat helpless as far as being able to
influence any possible outcomes in terms of
the environment?

Founder: The enormity of the problem, at
times, is overwhelming. As a writer, my main
goal is to expose as many people to the
potential hazards as possible. I think it’s
important to remind people that, for all its problems, this blue sphere floating in space is an oasis of unfathomable beauty. I don’t
think we stop and contemplate the wonder
of it enough; I mean, have you been to a rose garden lately?

Fredrich: Because of the song, that almost
sounds quaint.

Founder: My point exactly! But believe me,
it’s not ; and we should make time to thoroughly enjoy it, if not meditate and inhale it.
Optimistic rhetoric aside, it may never be
this good again.

Fredrich: What’s the key to having passion
about nature and ecology?

Founder: That’s truly the ultimate challenge. If you’re lucky enough to live in a
developed country, you’re no doubt preoccupied with making a living, dealing with
family, educational issues, and everything
else that makes us who we are. Priorities.
That’s how we define ourselves in a postagrarian society like the U.S.

Frederich: Moving to an industrial-based
economy changed everything?

Founder: Yes, and the advent of the living
wage by Henry Ford was a pivotal factor in
shifting our priorities away from family and
the respect we once had for the Earth.
Consumerism, fueled by a new middle class,
quickly made us forget we once depended
on the Earth for our survival. The mechanics
and realities of rural farm living were replaced
by a life style that was only dreamed of in
the beginning of the twentieth century. We
bought our milk and eggs in the store, our
meat at the local butcher. These developments created a shift in the paradigm of the power structure of the country. Suddenly,
the elite had to start slicing the pie ever so thicker. Higher education, once the sole domain of the eastern establishment, was now
open to anyone who could afford or earn it.
By the sixties, everyone was so wrapped up in
the pleasures of this new economy, we forgot
about the planet. Luckily, Rachel Carson and
others had different priorities.
As far as developing a passion for nature, it takes small acts of daily effort to make a difference. This could be as simple as walking to the store instead of driving; along the way look around and think. I’m
not superior but just a piece of this mosaic that is interdependent and fragile.

Fredrich: What stops us from doing that
naturally?

Founder: I think it boils down to the
biggest lie that faces our society. We’ve
been bombarded with messages our whole
lives that somehow materialism leads to
satisfaction, when clearly the opposite is
true. We must get in touch with our true
nature which is very basic in terms of what
it needs to be satisfied. The problem is, we
buy into the fact that materialism will fill the
void we all have at some level. In the
process, we go into debt, this adds a cloud
over our lives. We no longer work for satisfaction, but just to stay above water. Add to all this, the messages to consume, and, if
possible, consume the best. You end up caught in the cycle of consumption and debt. Now, I wonder what interests could
possibly benefit from that mode of thinking?

Fredrich: Enough said. Were you always
rebellious against the establishment and
authority?

Founder: The scary thing is, no. I think that
it’s phenomenally easy to treat the party line
as gospel. There’s a since of isolation that
goes along with being an independent
thinker. I think that’s the brilliance of capitalism. It’s not whether it’s correct or not, it’s the belonging that counts. I wanted to
belong, so I believed. It’s the least resistant path one can take. It’s rather distressing to learn about the concept of media spin, subliminal messages, and all the other forms of manipulation, both subtle and direct that are perpetrated on the free world every day.My first reaction was denial. But after the initial shock wore off, it turned to amazement andanger. Of course, we must remember that common people have always been vulnerable to the will of those with true influence. Thewords “The government for the people,”meant people who owned land. The peasant class was, for the most part, marginalized from influence. The main difference now is the sophistication of the tools for manipulation. Anything that depends on capitalism to function is vulnerable to manipulation by powerful interests. That revelation was a real wake-up call.

Fredrich: I sense shades of Noam Chomsky
in your take on the new world order.

Founder: Yes, Noam is another unsung hero
and is very influential in my thinking.

Fredrich: Do you think the media has a role
in this state of affairs?

Founder: That goes without saying. I hope
I’m not alone in my desire to hear the entire
message from the media not just the politically correct news. The perception that the American public is too fragile to be exposed
to the realities of our world and the universe,
should be insulting to people, but this is
exactly what happens every day.

Fredrich: We’re spoon-fed sound bites of
spun information that we perceive as news.

Founder: Exactly, but the number of people
that see through this would give pause to the powers that be. The problem is were not organized and there’s not enough independent
media. The best people can do is have a skeptical mind about information from the mass media, and if you’re like me, be leery
that you’re getting the complete, unfiltered news in its proper contextual format. And some of the more radical among us understand that the main objective of power, whether it lies in government, transnational corporations, or organizations, is to remain in power; if that means sacrificing the ecosystem of the planet unfortunately,
some feel it’s a price they’re still willing to pay.

Fredrich: What do you base that allocation on specifically?

Founder: The lack of motivation to replace
fossil fuels with something more environmentally favorable for one. How long can
we, as an ecosystem, sustain the damage caused by fossil fuel consumption. These effects are well-known: emissions, spills, damage done by drilling. It’s completely irrational unless you have something personally vested in that industry, then it makes perfect sense.

Fredrich: What would be an alternative
energy source in your estimation?

Founder: If you look at the French Nuclear Reactor Program, for example; it works because it’s government- run and built. They
found a system that worked and repeated it every time they built a new reactor. The U.S., in true open market fashion, built our nuclear energy program by opening it up to lowest bidder and hope that the quality is as good as the engineer’s predicted. Low and behold, some had problems. There was public outcry. We caved in and got rid of them.

Fredrich: But what about storing nuclear
waste?

Founder: If we built these reactors uniformly like
the French model and only built more after
all the potential bugs had been discovered
the only remaining problem would be storage. I’m quite confident our innovative American spirit would’ve figured out a workable solution had, and I say that emphatically, had it been a priority. Let me just add,
that’s only one alternative. I believe there are better ones that hopefully will see the light of day before our ecology collapses in on
itself, taking us with it.

Fredrich: So you’re not completely without
optimism.

Founder: I’m, at the core , an optimist. It’s frustrating to watch a competent society squander its opportunity to take control of
its destiny. We could be proactive. Instead we’ve resigned to being reactive. It’s disappointing, but not disparaging. I have hope
and faith that the tide can be reversed with the passing of the old guard.

Fredrich: Wouldn’t that require political risk
and sacrifice of those in power for any
meaningful change to come about?

Founder: That’s definitely the Achilles heel
in my optimism. Up till now, there hasn’t
been a lot of personal heroism among the
power brokers. But that level of courage is
not without precedent. By defying Hitler
at all costs, Churchill may well have saved
Western civilization. More than likely,
though, self-preservation will be the determining factor. If the tide of eco-destruction continues unabated, at some point those in
power may oversee their kingdom underground or in a space station. I don’t think that’s a very appealing prospect. So, change

will occur when it’s in their interests to promote it, and not before.

Fredrich: You seem to have a cynical view of the media and any other entity that operates in a capital structure. Can you give me specific examples of why you don’t trust them?

Founder: Sure. (Mr. Erfurt takes a moment
and arranges his notes.) On January
12,1958, on the CBS. program Armstrong
Circle Theater, one of the guests was retired
Army Major Donald Keyhoe. Toward the
end of his presentation he went off script
and tried to discuss the meetings and efforts
he was putting forward in order to have congressional hearings on the UFO matter. The producer edited out the sound on live television. Now, you could argue that this isn’t manipulation or lying, but CBS, as a network, interfered with the publics right to hear that
information; that’s telling, in my view.

Fredrich: The interests as you have been
describing. Who are they and what’s the
basis of your skepticism about them?

Founder: I’m referring to entities that have a
stake in foreign and monetary policy and
also have a considerable influence in directing those policies.

In 1947, a California Grand Jury indited General Motors,
Firestone Tire, Philips Petroleum, Standard
Oil, and five other defendants of violating
Sections 1 and 2 of the Sherman Antitrust
laws. The case was transferred to Chicago’s
circuit court and they were convicted of
criminal and civil crimes. The case was
appealed in 1951 and one of the criminal
convictions was upheld and GM was convicted of violating Section 2 of the Sherman Antitrust laws. Basically, they were accused
and convicted of conspiring to suppress
competition by acquiring motor coaches and
supplies from the City Line Bus transit companies for the sole purpose of creating a monopoly in the personal transportation
industry. They didn’t want alternative forms
of public transportation that competed
with cars. The irony is they ended up with
a $5,000 fine. Not a bad price; and they say crime doesn’t pay.

Fredrich: With so many people now owning
stock, why should we be suspicious of them.
After all, now that we own part of these
interests, who are they out to get?

Founder: Well, lets assume you own interest
in a tire or automobile concern.
You’re innocently driving down the highway
and the engine stalls or your tire blows out
just as you were passing a semi truck. You
may own stock in that company, but if they
withheld information to avoid a recall you’re
in trouble nevertheless.

Fredrich: Good recovery. Now, to shift
gears a moment. I recently had the chance
to read your newsletter.
Founder: (Pause). You mean Flake?

Fredrich: Believe it or not, yeah.

Founder: So you were one of the five.
(Laughter)

Fredrich: Well, I was going to ask about your
choice of great figures in history you mentioned in Flake.” Example; Blaise Pascal, not
the normal choice that jumps out at you, is it?

Founder: No, but what’s great about Pascal
is his presence in our everyday life. Consider
his contribution every time you need to control the forward motion of a vehicle. That hydraulic based braking system was his idea.
On that same note, Pascal is also credited
with another device that we take for granted,
the syringe. Like other men of his caliber, he was
extremely diverse in his interests and also
contributed to pure math with his probability theorems. Most people, however, only know him as a philosopher.

Fredrich: And Leonardo Da Vinci?

Founder: He’s definitely my favorite figure
in history. This was a man who realized the
hypocrisy of the establishment, and because
of his stature was able to scold and rebuke
those of the elite classes for their trivial priorities. He was part of the 5% that represented 95% of the accomplishments and
ideas of his generation, and he was quite put
out by the literary establishment that criticized his writing ability. He let them know in no uncertain terms that he was substantial in the areas that were important and they were mere bureaucrats because they
were too mediocre to be anything else.

Fredrich: Interesting. I never heard that. But
why not Einstein or Hawking?

Founder: What have they done for you lately? I mean, I know Einstein’s the sexy choice, but unless you’re planning on approaching
the speed of light anytime soon, how does his contributions fit into your life? Now Nicola Tesla, who I believe is a modern-day
“ Da Vinci,” that’s another story. While other
men pondered the universe, Tesla invented
the radio and the concept of alternating
electricity. At least a few historians credit
Tesla’s contributions as the main impetus for
enabling the industrial revolution to take
hold and spread. Now that guys a giant.

Fredrich: What was the purpose of a
newsletter devoted to the science of failure
stratification?

Founder: I was trying to illustrate in a facetious fashion how people are treated if they don’t fit into our expected norms. If you’re
scientific minded and have lots of interests
where you’d would like your voice heard,
often you’re relegated to being an outcast.
We are a very specialized, compartmentalized society, with no room for general academic expertise. You can’t even be a general
biologist. You have to pick a sub-specialty like marine or botany. The tragedy, in my view, is that people who innovate and
invent tend to be able to perform these
tasks in any subject on which they focus.
Certainly, Da Vinci and Pascal would be
good examples. Would either of them have
the credentials to have their opinions validated in today’s climate? Using the theory outlined in my newsletter, they would have been
destined to become frustrated failures. If true,
it’s a very sad commentary on modern society.

Fredrich: Wouldn’t you agree our world is
much more complicated, since there were
only four degrees?

Founder: Referring to the liberal arts, theology, medicine, and law. Point taken. All I’m saying, is once a scientific discipline
becomes mature, it becomes restricted to
people trained in the cannons of that speciality. The lay man is effectively shut out.

Fredrich: And that bothers you?

Founder: It should be troubling to everyone
who cares about discovery. Don’t get me
wrong, there’s a lot to be said about the current system of normal science. What’s missing is the diversity you get when a lay man ,
working outside of the normal science
model, sets out to solve a problem. His
methods and objectives probably aren’t
compatible with academia. Still, you have to
consider the benefits derived from the accidental discoveries and by-products that wouldn’t be possible under the constraints of
a scientific discipline.

Fredrich: So, by abandoning tradition and
starting from scratch, you’re once again a
true scientist.

Founder: At least, in my definition, you are.

Fredrich: Can we talk about your style of writing in the second portion of this magazine?

Founder: Sure.

Fredrich: Who was your influences…. possibly Hemingway and Faulkner?

Founder: Good choices, but I’d say only
peripherally.

Fredrich: How would you describe your
writing style? I understand you go to great
lengths to distance yourself from the P word.

Founder: Poetry. That’s true, but not
because I don’t appreciate it. I just feel it’s
not a genre which I can contribute to with
any level of significance. I don’t write well in
code. If I had to describe my writing I’d use
the term meditative writing, and what I
mean by that is, writing with extreme concentration and expository reflection. As far as influences, no question in my mind that
the greatest example of meditative writing is
song writers… specifically, writers of ballads.
The mechanic of a great ballad is, for me,
unbelievably intricate and profound. There’s
a timeless otherworldly aspect to a ballad
that isn’t like any other kind of writing I
know of.

Fredrich: That’s quite an endorsement.

Founder: I strongly feel that way. If you
boil down human nature to its core elements, you’ll find the ingredients to a ballad. Those writers are masters of truth, and I
think that when you hear the lyrics of a ballad, it’s refreshing in its unfiltered honesty.
The vulnerability of a ballad singer is captivating. I wanted to explore these elements
in a different medium, a magazine.

Fridrich: Were you pleased with the result?

Founder: I believe I pushed the envelope and experimented with various approaches I don’t think you are ever quite content with
the result, but I’m pleased.

Fredrich: There’s an inherent risk associated
with any type of artistic writing, yet you
chose to pursue it. Why?

Founder: The closest thing besides writing a
ballad to projecting your thoughts in a pure
way is this meditative writing I’ve been
describing. Regardless of the marketing risks,
it’s enormously enriching and worthwhile.

Fredrich: Would you ever do a follow-up?

Founder: I don’t think so. Whatever spark
that enabled me to create my collection is
now spent.

Fredrich: What else will you write?

Founder: I’m anxious to finish some screenplays I started a while back.

Fredrich: Any working titles yet?

Founder: No, but I promise you’ll be the
first to know.

Fredrich: Great. One theme you touched on
in your collection is love. Are you a romantic
in the classic sense?

Founder: I guess I’m guilty of that, too.

Fredrich: Why is love such an enduring subject for writers and artists?

Founder: I think it’s that perpetual cycle of
thinking about falling in love, the process
of being in love, and ultimately falling out
of love. This covers the whole gambit of
emotions, and it’s intriguing to explore the
colors of this phenomenon, because that’s
what it is… a phenomenon…. it’s very mysterious.

Fredrich: You seem to be fascinated with the
near-misses and regrets of the cycle you
describe.

Founder: I don’t like clean absolutes. We
live in the gray spectrum of life. We know
what true love should be, but it’s actually
quite rare. The intrigue’s not knowing how
it’s going to turn out and our imagination
takes over. Whether it’s love or infatuation,
the chemical reaction’s the same. So your
mind’s screening these impulses and trying
to decide if there’s something more substantial, like love, occurring. Either way it’s the most exciting feeling we have in our repertoire. So, when you weigh in the odds of two people falling in love, which I calculate to be at one hundred sixteen to one, it’s not as
common or easy as we’d like.

Fredrich: A little Pascal Probability.

Founder: Exactly. Given the odds are so
narrow, the concept of love is somewhat out
of reach and is more of a fantasy than actuality.

Fredrich: That’s where writers come in.

Founder: Absolutely. The near- misses are
especially powerful themes because they talk
to our fear of rejection and the nightmare of
ending up alone in our old age.
Fredrich: You seem to have great adoration
for the female gender, almost to an exalted
degree.

Founder: I’ve always thought of women that
I’m attracted to as mystical and fragile at the
same time.

Fredrich: Why not write about the period of
being in love?

Founder: I might at some point. It’s interesting how we risk everything for a chance at bliss, but it’s not something we can maintain.
The negative dimensions of loves emotions
rear their menacing heads… jealousy, anger,
insecurity. It’s almost as if the act of being in
love over stimulates our emotions, and we
can’t stabilize them. To be in a constant
state of euphoria without spilling over to
the negative emotions is nearly impossible.
Once we’ve reached the top, all that’s left
is to go down. If I’m not mistaken, that
even happened to a certain angel. So, for
me, happy endings are too expected. I tend
to gravitate towards the dark side of life. I
don’t want to compete with romance writers.

Fredrich: Which leads to falling out of love.
What displeases you about that angle?

Founder: It leaves too sad of a conclusion.
There’s nowhere to go as far as intrigue. It’s
final. I prefer near-misses. Reminiscing about
past love, and flirting is also fun. These
emotions leave the door open for future
encounters. I’ve discovered that hope is key
to the human psyche. If you’re going to take
your reader to a dark place, make sure
there’s a light somewhere, or they’ll end up
resenting you for not giving them a way out.

Fredrich: Too much truth.

Founder: Exactly.

Fredrich: The human condition….. what’s
that about?

Founder: I think were inherently more talented and capable than our technologies allow us to express. Someone wrote 2001,
Star Trek and numerous other futuristic possibilities. When you have a people that are ready to take the next step, as far as evolution, but are held back due to technological reasons, there’s a restlessness, a boredom. We’re in a rut, I believe. There’s not enough stimulus that occurs in our lives to satisfy that hunger for knowledge, exploration, new experiences. We must compensate by fantasizing just to deal with the trivialities of our existence which ultimately creates anxiety and dissatisfaction. We have secret desires and questions that we suppress and pretend are not important, but dwell in us. You know them, I’m sure: Is there life beyond death? Are we the sole sentient life forms in the cosmos? Will science be able to extend our life span ?   My personal favorite is to be able to fly wherever and whenever we desire.

Fredrich: So we’re in a subtle state of impatience.

Founder: I think so. But it’s always been part
of the human experience. Da Vinci imagined
a flying machine based on the principle of
rotors, like a helicopter. Where’d that come
from?

Fredrich: In your view is philosophy still a
valid discipline? If so, who are the modern
philosophers and what can we learn from
them?

Founder: C.G. Jung comes to mind as a
pure philosopher. He wanted to educate the
public on subjects considered pseudoscience.
His interest covered mythology, parapsychology, even metaphysics. Jung believed in an undiscovered frequency, something like a
universal conscience that can be tapped into,
one that would explain phenomena such as
telepathy and reincarnation . What’s interesting to me is that mainstream physicists are starting to embrace these intangible theories. Steven Hawking, among others, is entertaining the notion that the present may rely on the past, a metaphysical concept
that may have a mathematical explanation.

Fredrich: Are physicists more open-minded
than the general public? Or just more secure?

Founder: I think a little of both. Men like
Einstein and Jung were ahead of their time.
When you’re on the margins of sciences like
theoretical physics and parapsychology
people are less likely to ridicule your ideas.
After all, that’s how you get published in
those circles. The main difference between
our place in history and Jung’s is the means
of communicating ideas. When you think
about it, the last philosopher truly known
and influential the world over was Carl Marx. You’d be hard pressed to name a modern philosopher who is dominant in the
public perception. Movies are the modern vehicles that challenge, provoke, and shock our collective ideology. When used skillfully, film can introduce an orphan idea or concept and inject it into popular culture with the same impact that philosophers like Darwin and Freud enjoyed in their time.

Fredrich: So, an Oliver Stone or a Stanley
Kubric are our philosophers as far as public
impact?

Founder: As ironic as that sounds…yes.
Fredrich: It sounds like you’re implying that
some of the most accomplished thinkers and
writers aren’t getting the attention they
deserve.

Founder: You’re precisely right. Chomsky,
Postman, Kuhn and numerous other writers
aren’t exactly household names. But when
you read their works and realize how much
they’ve researched and thought out their
points they should be on the tip of our
tongue. On the other hand, nearly everyone’s heard of Spielberg. It’s a matter of priorities. We want to be entertained above all
else. If we can learn something in the
process great… But if we don’t, just make us forget and feel good.

Fredrich: Are we afraid of knowledge to
some extent?

Founder: I never thought of that before, but
it makes a lot of sense. It reminds me of
Jung’s observation about human psychology:
the role denial plays in our mental health,
perhaps psychology’s biggest mystery. We
use denial as a filter to assimilate information in a way that’ll cause the least amount of trauma. It’s quite ingenious and useful in many ways. Evolution’s already arrived. We must learn how to discover it. The role of philosophers are to provide reference points in our journey. There are verifiable truths out there that may rock our current picture
of reality. When we’re ready, we can begin the quest for knowledge.
I understand why there’s reluctance to adapt a new ideology that runs contradictive to the Americana of a Ronald Reagan State of the Union Speech. If that description of reality works for you, I’m frankly a
little envious. But once you’ve let the proverbial genie out, there’s no going back.
Fredrich: Who are your favorite philosophers?

Founder: I like Pluto, Socrates and others of
that period. There weren’t as many distractions in their day. They could think through the subtleties of human existence and people would listen. They were also the first orators and set the foundation for arguing a point of law. I particularly liked the way they debated their point. If you disagreed with Pluto on a theory or whatever, he’d invite you to
sit down on a rock and hash it out, even if it
took days. That way of life is very appealing
to me. There was no such thing as sound
bites or spin, just old-fashion debating and
arguing between two people without the
consideration of television or other media.

Fredrich: So you’d welcome an oral debate
on your more controversial points.

Founder: Sure. I’ll put some shrimp on the
barbi and well hash it out, anytime.

Fredrich: I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t
find a taker. The last theme you talked about
with your meditative writing was surrender
and peace of mind. Could you touch on that
for a moment.

Founder: When we’ve faced our hidden
selves, and come to terms with our limitations, there is a sense of peace that’s permanent. The problem is with all the distractions
it’s hard to arrive at this intersection where
we know what’s really important and what’s
not. Hopefully, there’s still a lot of youth
ahead of us when we do. I find this especially
interesting to write about.

Fredrich: Back to your screen plays, any
current projects?

Founder: I’m working on a treatment that
could be a appropriate for an independent
film.

Fredrich: You couldn’t be a wee more
specific?

Founder: What would be the fun in that?

Fredrich: You’re certainly a character and it’s
been a pleasure thank-you.

Founder: Your welcome. Anytime.

Chapter one

There’s less and less reason to remember the old life. Growing upjust a stones throw away, now seems like a different world. I struggle each day to forget, to pretend I now have a purpose. Thank

God for Catherine.
My life is nothing without her.
Catherine noticing Carl slumped over the sofa walks over to him,
tries to comfort him
“Stop moping and give him a call. That’s what this is about, isn’t?”
“Who?”
“You know who.”
“I don’t know. I think I waited too long.”
Catherine grabbing his arm: “You took the guy off the streets and let
him stay with you after only knowing him for a few hours and you
think you waited too long. C’mon . . .”
Carl, now pacing: “What the hell’s wrong with me when the only
people who want to be my friends are social outcasts?”
“Look, most people are too wrapped up in their own little self-contained world to bother with the effort it takes to be your friend.
John had the time.”
“You have so many friends. I just want one good one.”
“But meeting someone at a race track doesn’t concern you.”
“It should I guess, but he really cracked me up. Like he had given up
and was proud of it. I guess I was a little envious.”
“You never change. Always the sucker for the underdog.”
“They’re the only genuine people I know. The irony is he thinks I did
him a favor.
Catherine handing a cup of coffee to Carl: When he did you one?”
“He took me serious.”
“About your writing?”
“About being a person.”
“Carl, Carl, Carl…don’t you know what you have? I remember you
used to help me with my assignments. I know I was hard on you, but
it’s because you spoil me with your excellence. It’s not in peoples’
nature to reveal their true feelings. You have so much pent-up charisma
that it scares the heck out of people. You make people face their
weaknesses because they see something in you that’s very rare in this
world. John is someone invisible to most people. Don’t you see? He’s
only important to you because you didn’t scare him off.

“He was more than that. He knew about things.
He took the time to talk to me about music. He
taught me about his world. He let me in.”
“You think that just because people don’t immediately
share their most intimate details with you that
they’re standoffish?”
“I just want to be close.”
“Yeah, but on your terms. It doesn’t work that way.”
“It did with John.”
“Privacy is a very attractive quality. You should try
it sometime.”
“You just don’t understand.”
Catherine, an up and coming lawyer, is the principal breadwinner. The marriage to Carl has been
solid but something always seems to stand in the
way of true intimacy. Carl’s been trying to publish
for years and, it’s starting to take its toll.
Lately, in addition to restlessness, Carl has been
uttering strange sounds during his sleep.
Catherine is becoming alarmed.
Di-da-che Fi-lio-que- Adfero affero. Ascio seraph.
“Carl, wake up! Wake up, Carl.”
“What is it? What’s going on?”
“You’re talking in your sleep again.”
“It was a dream? Oh, thank God! I thought I was
losing my mind. I keep seeing my mother, but I
can’t help her. I can’t help her.”
“You can’t go on like this. You have to talk to
somebody.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Soon. Honest. I will. Okay. Just not right now.”
Catherine nearly pleading, “Father, bless you for
seeing me. I know you’re busy.’’
“Nothing that can’t wait. How can I help you
child?”
Father O’Leary’s a gentle, wise and fatherly type
man in his early sixties.
Appearing agitated Catherine blurts out: “What
am I going do with him? I don’t get it. Carl’s one of
the most talented writers I’ve ever seen, but he
doesn’t have a lick of confidence. Would you talk to
him?”
Father O’Leary, smiling: “You understand we merely function as spiritual advisors. Are you sure this is the appropriate venue?”
“If you mean a shrink, he’d tie them in knots in no
time. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Why would it be different with me?”
“He’d consider your motives pure. I know it sounds
corny, but he has these lofty notions of ethics and
virtue that”. . . Catherine beginning to cry: “I really
love him for.”
“There, there, as he hands her a tissue.” “I’ll do what
I can.”
“Thank you, father. I’ll leave you some of his work.”
“Can I expect you for mass?”
“I’ll see father.”
Carl had learned to hate checking the mail. For
most people bills are the worst things that could
arrive. It’s always the same, one by one discarding
the rejections like they’re junk mail. “Lucky fourteen! I’m getting that feeling. You open it. I can’t
bear another form letter.”
Catherine, reluctantly grabs the envelope: “It’s just
a letter. Don’t get so life-or -death.”

Dear Carl: Thank-you for your manuscript. We felt
it had potential, but we are not currently publishing
any manuscripts of that genre. Please feel free to
resubmit other manuscripts. Sincerely. . .
“Why do you stay with me? Nine years. . . nine
years and we’re still living in this dump. I wanted so
many things for you. Can’t you see? You can’t be
that blind. Do me favor. Remind me of today the
next time I have hope.”
“I hate it when you do this to yourself. The world is
a tough nut to crack. Why do you take it so personally? You know how many grad schools I applied at before getting accepted at Youngstown?
Things come so easy for you. You’re trying to
accomplish the most ambitious thing imaginable.
You judge your whole existence by whether a publisher publishes your book or not. Did you ever consider most people are so preoccupied with the mundane trivialities of life they couldn’t imagine
pursuing what you think is your ultimate testimony?
You breeze through the challenges and tribulations
of life so easily, they don’t mean anything to you.
Most of us look to television shows to live out our
most passionate dreams. You don’t need to. You’re
actually going to own them.”
“If you really believe that, I don’t deserve you.”

“You really have no idea, do you?”

Chapter two

Father O’Leary always held a special affection for
Carl and Catherine. One day he hoped, if the timing
presented itself, he’d tell them why. For now, there
were Carl’s notes:
I was standing in the rule of faith in the same way
that you had revealed me to her so many years
before. And you transformed her mourning into
joy more abundant than she wished and much
dearer and more chaste than that of having grandchildren of my flesh.
“What would possess him to write that? My
God…his mother.’’
“Someone’s at the door. Are you going to answer it
or what?”
“Hold on! Hold on! . . . Father O’Leary?”
“If this is a bad time, I can come back.”
“No! no, please come in. As I live and breathe,
Father O’Leary. What brings you around to this
neck of the woods?”
“Doctors gave up house calls. We haven’t. Although
you’d think the least the bishop could do is buy us
new shoes once in a while.”
“You still got it, I see.”
“How’s that?”
“Your sense of humor. After everything you’ve seen,
you’re still able to maintain your sanity and even
your humor.”

Catherine, offering to take his coat.: “Does the
church know what a treasure you are?”
“Yes, but they use the term relic.”
“You’re such a kidder.” Catherine laughed.
(Father O’Leary’s Irish charm firmly represents what
a priest should be… fatherly and healing at the
same time.)
“Anyway, my son, it seems you have friends in high
places and they’re quite concerned about your. . .
lets say, constitution.”
“My constitution? Oh, I see. That’s why you’re here.
Who’s been talking to you, if I didn’t already know.
Let me guess, a mysterious, benevolent friend?
Look, if you came here to somehow stoke my ego
or fill me with all this positive reinforcement non-sense, I think you drove a long way for nothing.”
“Carl, he’s still our guest.”
“No, that’s quite all right. Can I ask a question
plainly?”
“You may.”
“Do you feel your writing is a gift?”
“You mean from God? . . . ”
Catherine, now concerned: “Why would you say
that?”
“It’s okay, Kate. Sometimes . . . this is crazy.”
“No, go on.”
“It’s just that I feel like I’m being led. . . like it’s
already been. . .”
“Ordained?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“Could I see something you’ve written?”
“I guess, sure. Why not? It’s not like it’s valuable or
anything.”
“You’re quite gifted. I’ve only known one other
person who had this degree of talent.”
“What became of him?”
“It was a woman, an extraordinary woman. To
answer your question. I don’t know. People write
for many reasons. Do you find satisfaction in your
writing?”
“There’re moments.”
“My advice to you is, don’t compromise. Some of our
greatest writers weren’t appreciated in their day but
we’d be so much poorer without their contributions.”
“Concentrate on your work. Everything else will fall
into place, if it was meant to be.”
“How is it, ever since I remember, you always know
what to say?”
“Hello. No he’s not. Who’s calling?… John. Okay,
I’ll tell him.”
For some men, some good men, the cost of being a
priest becomes too high. Only a fellow priest could
know how the wrath of isolation, empty time, and
the burden can test a man to his core. Some are
consumed.
Father O’Leary knew he was luckier then most. He
had his friend.
“Damian, the day you said would never happen.”
“Yes, go on”
“I think you my have spoke too soon. I’ve acquired
a sample you should look at.”
“Who is the source?”
“Carl.”
“After all these years, and it has to be her son.
Do you know what you’re suggesting Francis? It’s
been twenty years since we’ve had a confirmed
case.”
“Twenty-three, but his mother…”
“You know as well as I do that this isn’t inherited.”
“I know. But what if there’s a connection? Can’t you
at least read his writing?”
“It’s that important to you? Very well, schedule it
with my secretary.”
“But Francis, don’t get your hopes up. She’s gone.
Nothing will change that.”
Carl, knowing Catherine is hiding something,
presses her: “So?”
Catherine playing innocent: “So. Oh, John called.
He said he has an idea for a new system, and to call
him.”
“Really! …Who else have you spoken to?”
“Okay. But I did it for your own good. I was worried
about you.”
“Any other surprises? Maybe a letter to Dear
Abbey”
“Cute. Thanks for talking to him.”
Strangest thing . . . he knew my mother. That
leaves only one other person that might know
what’s going on. Katie, hold my lunch. I got to
check something out.”
“Where are you going? Carl, wait, talk to me.
Where are you going?
Catherine, unable to get his attention, watches him squeal out of the driveway: “God help him. I can’t
anymore.”
“Gretchen always treated me like her son. I fear it
wasn’t always mutual. Kids can be cruel. She could
have held a grudge, but that wasn’t her style.
Secrets are like answers you may not want to hear.
But lies are worse.
“I knew this day would come. She could be selfish.
When she had something to write, she’d lock herself in her room till she got it right. I’m telling you this cause I want you to know who she was. She wasn’t perfect. Hell, we’d fight and feud, like any
other sisters. But in the end we’d stick together.
One time, when I was about seven, my sister, your
mother, asked me what was wrong. I took a locket
from my mother’s jewelry box. I was going to return it, but when I returned from lunch, it was gone.
Your mother helped me replace it. Twenty dollars
was a lot of money back then. I can never forget
that. Mother never found out. Try not to judge her.
There wasn’t a day your mother didn’t worry about
you. She didn’t abandon you. You have to believe
that. She just needed some help.”
“She asked me to care for you. I said yes. I’m lucky I
was able to do it. I always intended to give you
these at the right time. She always wanted you to
have them.”
“Francis, you were right. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“You found out something?”
“It was part of a confession by St. Augustine right
before his conversion to Christianity…. Curious,
any idea how he came across it?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Francis; If word gets out. We may not be able to
protect him.”
“I know. I know.”

Chapter three

Carl’s best friend John is a stocky, well- read,
forty- something guy with a peculiar form of arrogance. While mostly humble, occasionally you
sense what he could’ve been.
“Did she tell you I called? I think I’ve come up with
the mother load. We just need a nickel for our nut.”
“Sounds great, but well have to talk about it another
time. I have to ask you a favor.”
“Me? Well, I guess I owe you that much. Who do I
have to kill?”
“Just meet me. You know where.”
“All right… half an hour.”
“I think my mother’s alive.”
“I thought you told me they never found her.”
“I know what I said, but . . . there’s something that I
have to show you.”
“It was my mother’s. That’s her. See. She was so
pretty. Look at the title of the tablet she’s holding.”
“Whoa, dude. That’s the name of your book.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”

“It was always her book. I just didn’t realize it.”
John now beginning to doubt Carl’s sanity: “How’s
that?”
“I was reviewing my last few chapters, you know
just doing some last-minute polishes. What could
be normal, except maybe some chapters I don’t
remember writing. I mean, you’d think you’d
remember writing about the Judgments of the
Apostolic Signatura, followed by Sacred Ontologist
Scriptures.”
“Well, yea. Maybe you just forgot.”
“Are you hearing me? They weren’t my words, not
even my style.”
“Carl, not having your mother around all these
years. That’s gotta be hard, but drugs aren’t the
answer.”
“Very funny. I know what this sounds like, okay.
I’m not crazy.”
“You’re serious aren’t you?”
“I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
“That stuff you wrote, how would you even know
about that? What does it mean anyway?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a Catholic Scholar… I’m barely
Catholic.”
John, wishing he was anywhere but here: “So what
are we talking about? Ghosts?”
“I want you to hold onto this. You’re to tell no one.”

“You are talking about ghosts. You need to get a grip.”
“There’s something going on I can’t explain.
Promise you’ll keep this to yourself.”
“Don’t worry, I will. I wouldn’t know how to explain
it anyway. So what now?”
“I have to find her.”
“How can you be so sure she’s not… you know…”
“Dead? Then I would be crazy. It’s hard to explain,
but I know she’s alive and I’m the only one who can
help her.”
“Carl, it’s Father O’Leary.”
“Hello, father.”
“Carl, I need to talk to you about your writing.”
“How’s that?”
“I so hate to breach a confidence, but in this case.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“I was given some of your notes, and I’ve discussed
them with the Cardinal.”
“The Cardinal. Great. I’m going to kill her.”
“We’ve seen words like this before… twenty-three
years ago.”

“Where?”
“Your mother wrote them.”
“What?”
“I knew your mother in Italy.”
“And you’re just telling me now.”
“I was concerned about stirring up feelings. I didn’t
feel it was my place.”
“Carl.”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever heard of the term channeling?”
“Isn’t that like possession or something?”
“There’ve been cases, documented cases, of inspired
writing in the Diocese. “
“What does that have to do with me.”
“I’m not sure, probably nothing.”
“What do you know about my mother?”
“She was a special woman.”
“She’s not dead, is she? You know something. What
aren’t you telling me?”
“I can’t talk about what I don’t know.”
“I’ve never believed what they told me. I have to
know the truth.”
“Carl, there’s something that I…”
“Yes.”
“Well, I just want you to know she would’ve been
proud of you; I know that. Don’t ask me how, but I
know.”
“Kate, I need to talk to you.”
“Okay, about what?”
“I have to go out of town, and I need you to be
okay with it.”
“And my response should be?”
“Something along the lines of “I understand” would
be nice.”
“Would you, if it was me?”
“That’s different.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman or because I’m married?”
“I don’t like the way this is going.”
“It’s not so simple, looking at it from my direction,
is it? Is it Carl? “
Carl, feeling the heat looks down.
“Yes, you can go.”
“As far as understanding, I’m trying Carl. I’m really
trying. How long will you be gone or is that a
secret too?”
“A couple of days.”
“Carl. . . never mind. Be careful. I hate you.”

“I will. I hate you, too.”
“We have you booked on TWA flight 206 nonstop
to Rome.”
“First time?”
“Yeah, my mother was born there. But, this is business.”
Carl hails a taxi: “St. Peters Cathedral. . .”
“Welcome, Mr. Conner. We received your fax.
I must say this is very unusual, but we’ll be glad to
assist you in any way we can. Nineteen sixty-eight.
Records were kept entirely by hand then. We’ve
arranged quarters . . . “
“That wont be necessary. When can I meet with the
Arch bishop?”
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with these tired bones.
The bishop is out of town fasting.”
With impeccable Italian grooming, the Vatican
Attaché is the type of man you’d expect to see in a
cologne commercial. It’s difficult not to be intimidated by his larger-than-life gait.
“I’m here to learn about spiritual retreats.”
“What would you like to know?”
“What happens at these sanctuaries?”
“ What do you mean?”
“I mean my mother was lost returning from a sanctuary.
How’s that possible?”
“I always thought sanctuaries were God’s gardens.”
“There’s no guarantee on Earth. The greatest sin is
time wasted.”
“Or a moment never found.”
“Yes, that’s right. How did you know?”
“My mother used to tell me that poem. I can’t
believe I remember it.”

“An assistant will be here tomorrow to show you
the church archives.”
“Father, if you knew something about my mother;
I mean, if you knew she was alive, you’d tell me
wouldn’t you?”
“Of course, Mr. Conner. I wish I could be of more
assistance, but if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare
for mass.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
I was beginning to understand why my mother
loved this country so much.
Everywhere you turn, the legacy of the past confronts you in the most conspicuous ways. The grandeur of
what was once Rome is not hard to imagine.
The Vatican Archives at one time represented nearly
all of the formal knowledge of the civilized world.
Its contributors are indeed impressive. Socrates:
DaVinci, Galileo. Catholicism, at its height, had a
monopoly on greatness that’s difficult to comprehend.
“Where would records of inspired writing be kept?”
“We only keep records of official miracles. What
date are you looking for?”
“Nineteen-sixties.”
“Come with me. According to church records, the
last know case of miraculous writing was in nineteen-forty.”
“Are you sure? For the entire faith?
The Dominicans, Franciscans, Jesuits?”
“Quite sure.”
“What did my mother write that was so threatening
they couldn’t record it?”
Is there something else?
The Sisters of Faith conservatory. Do you know
where it is located?
“You must be mistaken.”
“What do you mean?”
“We have no conservatory by that name.”
“That can’t be. It’s in Italy. It has to be in Italy.
Are you sure?”
“Is there anything else I can assist you with Mr.
Conner?”
“No, that’s all right,” Carl says numbly.” Thank you
for your time. Arrvederci.”
It was becoming clear, if I was ever going to retrace
her life, I’d need some help. Or maybe just some luck.
“Hi, I’m the one who called you from the Vatican.
I need some assistance locating a retreat.”
“ Yes, I remember, but I must say I’m a bit confused.
What could we do at the embassy that couldn’t be
done at the Vatican?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just needed someone who
speaks English to help me. I must find this retreat.
It’s rather urgent or I wouldn’t trouble you.”
“What kind of retreat?
I only know it’s Catholic.”
“I see. This retreat wouldn’t have anything to do
with your mothers disappearance?”
“I’m not sure, but for some reason no one at the
Vatican would admit it exists, let alone where it’s at.

It’s a state secret or something.”
“There’s nothing more powerful than the church is
there?”
“Technically that’s only true in Vatican City, but the
reality is, no one messes with the Pope in Italy.
These retreats aren’t exactly mentioned on the tourist
maps. I don’t even think the Prime Minister knows
where some of them are. What was the name?”
“Sisters of Faith.”
“Sisters of Faith? You’re sure about that name?”
“More now than ever. Why?”
“Oh, it’s just that the name sounds familiar. Look…
I know you’ve come a long way. I’ll make some
phone calls.”
“Where can I reach you?”
“I don’t have a phone. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”
“All right. Mr. Conner, can I ask you a personal
question?”
“Of course.”
“Why now? After twenty-three years, why now?”
“I have doubts. I have to know. Help me. Please.”
“You like espresso, as he hands him a card,
Mr. Conner?”
“Tell Rico you like your espresso cold.”
Somewhat bewildered, Carl takes the card smiles and leaves.
Chapter four
“Do you speak English?”
“Si. A little.”
“I understand Rico makes a terrific espresso?”
“Rico? Who told you that?”
“A satisfied customer. You see, I like mine cold. You
understand cold as he gives Rico the card.”
“Come with me. Hurry. This way.”
“You C.I.A.? You sure don’t look like K.G.B. So…you police ?
“Nazi. I’m looking for my mother.”
“I don’t do that kind of work.”
“All I’m asking for is a guide.”
“Where do you need to go?”
“Sisters of Faith Conservatory.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. I must ask you to leave.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
“What is it about this place? What are you afraid of? Would two hundred dollars jar your memory.”
Rico Grabs the money: “When a was boy, my
father was there. There was an accident… An avalanche. Some men came around and told us to forget about Sisters of Faith. I never saw my father again. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget about it
too.”
“I can’t. Something happened twenty-three years
ago. And I have to know what it was. What else did
they say? Did anyone survive?”
“I don’t know. Please, if they find out I’ve talked.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me. I’ve flown
five thousand miles to find the truth. If you know
something tell me.”
“You must go.”
“Not till you tell me.”
“No ones supposed to know, but my father showed
me a secret passage underground.”
(I wanted something to cling too. Rico was giving it
to me.) “Was anything ever recovered?”
“No. My father along with everyone else are gone.
That’s all.”
“But how can you be sure? You said there was a tunnel.”
“My father was a great man. He would’ve contacted
me.”
“Your father? That would explain n a lot. That necklace your wearing. That’s your father, isn’t it?”
“I have to get back to work.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Go back home. You can’t change anything. No
one can.”
“Kate, I’m coming home in the morning.”
“You found something.”
“Maybe. I’ll tell you later.”
“Checking out Mr. Conner? “
“Yes. Could you do me a favor? Contact the
American Embassy relay my phone number in the
states.”
“Of course. I’ll see to it.”
“I’ll miss your country.”
“As we, you. Have a safe trip.”
Father O’Leary, I never saw that coming. What do
you do when a priest lies?
“So, let’s say you’re right. And she’s with the church.
Where would you look?”
“I don’t know, Kate. Where they’d have the most control. Vatican City. That’d be too easy.”
“What if you ask her.”
“Say again.”
“Look, you’ve had these weird dreams. Your writing.
Up until now, it’s been one way. What if you ask
her where she is.”
“In a letter?”
“Right.”
Being away, a man can loose sight of the very
things that make life worthwhile.
At my disposal is this extraordinary bright, sophisticated woman who, at the very core, is my friend.
Draped in gray tweed, she commands respect;
but just underneath lies perfection.

“File this idea under desperate.”
“Dear Mom, if you can hear this… Maybe that’s not
the right word. If you can feel this, help me find
you. Where are you? What do you see?… anything
that can help.”
“This is ridiculous, it’s been ten minutes. You’re
right. This psychic crap, mumbo jumbo. It’s all crap.
She left me. She’s not coming back is she?”
“Carl.”
“Is she? I didn’t want to believe it. She’s gone.
She’s really gone.”

Latter that night Carl wakes after saying strange Latin utterances “Adfero affero. Ascio seraph.”
Listen. Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Oh my god. it’s her.”
Adfero affero. Ascio seraph. “There it is again.
“Carl. Wake up . You’re doing it again talking in you’re sleep.”
“What? What was I saying?”
“It’s something like Adero. something, something
Seraph.”
“Does that make any sense to you?”
“No. Unless.”
“What? You’re mother?”
“Maybe. What do the words mean?”
“I think they’re Latin, part of a mass or something.”
What could it mean?”
“Seraph… if I remember my art history, it means angel.”
Kate and Carl look at each other: “What’s the literary
meaning of angel?…Messenger.”
“Of course. Don’t you see? That’s what she’s trying
to say. She wants me to be her messenger.”
“Carl, you don’t know that.”
“What else could it mean?”
“Carl, I’ve been patient, but I have to be honest.
I didn’t hear anything. I’ve gone along with this
fantasy of yours because I care about you and I
know it’s hard to let go.”
“You think that’s what this is? I’m not afraid of letting
go. I didn’t ask for this to happen.”
“Carl, you’re thirty-two. You have a family, a career.
You worked hard to be a private teacher. You’re
willing to risk everything on…”
“What? Say it.”
“Okay, a hunch.”
“If it was your mother wouldn’t you?” “I don’t know.”
“You know, maybe you’re right. I have been selfish.
I think I’m going to take your advice and talk to
someone.”
“Really? Who?”
“An old friend.”
“Don’t bother lying to me. I know.”
“Are you okay, my son?”
“I know about Sisters of Faith. I know about the
tunnels. I know about Rico.”
“Rico?”
“Yeah, I know. He thinks you’re dead. Imagine my
surprise when I recognized the picture he wears on
his neck. It was you. You were there when the
Avalanche Hit.”
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”
“Don’t I? My mother had a gift. Such a profound
gift, the church couldn’t afford To lose her. Had to
protect her at all costs. Right? “
“But there’s something else you need to know. Rico
had a brother. A talented writer. I’ve wanted to tell
you for so long.”
“Stay away from me! You’re not my father! You’re
not my father! My father’s dead.”
“Carl, please!”
“You tell me where my mother is, or I swear to
God…”
“I don’t know. I swear it. I miss her, too. All I know
is she’s safe.”
“You were a priest. How do you live with that?”

Chapter five

“Someone from the American Embassy called.”
“What?”
“Said he had information about your mother and
he’d call tomorrow.”
“Really! I wonder what he found out.”
“Mr. Conner, Tyrone here from the Embassy.”
“Hello. Did you find out anything about my mother?”
“The retreat in question was destroyed and never
rebuilt. After you left I started checking around. No
records of an accident or anything of that nature in
nineteen sixty-eight. Then it occurred to me to
check the Red Cross. Your mother’s maiden name
was Naples, was it not?”
“Yes. Yes it was.”
“There was an L. Naples listed as a refugee.”
“Refugee to where?”
Argentina. Apparently, twenty-three people just
showed up one day in Buenos Aries. The Red Cross
was contacted and that was the last anyone’s heard
from them. The interesting thing was the date.
August 21,1968.”
“My mother disappeared August 14.”
“It could be a coincidence, but then again.”
“It’s a start. Thanks for calling.”
You’re quite welcome, Mr. Conner. Good luck.”

(The phone rings and Father O’Leary answers)
“O’Leary here.”
“Francis, you’re being recalled.”
“Recalled? Are you sure?”
“I don’t know what’s going on. It’s the most peculiar
thing, they want to hold an emergency session in Rome. I don’t remember another time when a session was called so suddenly. You’re to report to the
Vatican immediately for reassignment.”
“Does this have something to do with Carl?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Forget it.”
“So, I’ll let them know you’re on your way.”
“Of course. If I could ask your forgiveness, I really
need to rest.”
“I’m sorry, Francis. I’m only a Cardinal. If it was in
my power, I’d protect you, you know that.”
“I know you would. You’re a good friend. God
knows they’re hard to find. I’ll be fine. Good night
Damian.”
“Carl, it took some digging but I think I have something. I’m a bit rusty at Latin so bear with me;
Teacher of the Apostles bring forth the news as I
would in your place. Does that make any sense to
you?”
“Carl, are you there? Did you hear what I said?”
“Thanks John.“ Carl fighting to hold composure. “I
owe you man.”

“I’m back where I started Kate. She could be anywhere.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re not going
to stop till you find her. So, why don’t you go? Do
what you have to do and get this behind you. I’ll be
here when you come back.”
“You’re serious?”
“Uh- huh.”
“Alex said he’d take on my students if I needed it.
The bills are under control. I couldn’t just leave.”
“Why not? You’re no good to me like this. You have
to put this to rest. But Carl, whatever you discover,
however this turns out, promise me you’ll move on.”
“So what’re you saying?”
“Just that you have to be prepared to deal with anything. Have you thought of that?”
I knew she was right. How could I be so sure she
was alive? “I’ll try. I promise I’ll try.”
“John, this is your lucky day. You’ve been trying to
get me interested; you’ve got my attention.”
“That’s great. Not that I’m complaining, but what
changed your mind.”
“What difference does it make? When do we go to
the track?”
“Tomorrow.”

“Lets do it.”
John’s enthusiasm for horse betting, was, to me,
unnatural. Successful gambling requires predicting a future event. Horses tend to repeat performances under specific conditions. The trick is
to know when these conditions are about to present themselves. John had studied the tracks for
years and felt that his knowledge could finally
pay off. Only trouble was, he needed the seed
money. Now, he had it. I hope I know what I’m
doing.
“Francis, do you know why you’re here.”
“No, Your Eminence.”
“Always the flatterer. I’m merely the attaché,
nothing more.”
“If you wish.”
“Francis… may I call you Francis?”
“If it pleases, yes.”
“Are you familiar with the Gnostic figure, Sophia?”
“I believe she was an angel that lost her grace and
became human.”
“Very good. According to Scripture she taught her
disciples that the opposite could happen. Through
grace even a human could grow wings. It’s said that
Sophia constantly reappears in great women of history: Mary Magdalene, Helen of Troy. Of course, it’s absurd. But people are impressionable. They
want to believe. What do you believe, Francis?”
“The Bible. My heart.”
“And your heart is with the church.”
“Of course.”
“Did you know the Bible constantly makes references
to reincarnation? It’s subtle, but can’t be denied.
Even the response, when Jesus asked his disciples
who he was, hinted at it “Some say you’re the
Baptist.” Did you ever notice Christ’s lack of denial
or surprise? It would seem like a strange question
unless reincarnation was an accepted truth, would it
not? What would happen, Francis, to our faith, our
church, our world, if people realized their own
potential? That’s why she cannot be found. It’s larger
than any one man. Or even a son. Whatever you
have to do, he cannot find her. “Do you understand?”
“She’s not Sophia.”
“We never said she was.”
“Why me?”
“Who else can he trust?”

“How much are we up to?”
“Counting this race, three grand.”
“Two weeks. There’s got to be a faster way. At this
rate, I’ll be an old man.”
“You have to be patient Carl. Twenty percent a day
adds up.”
“I wish we could just bet everything on a long shot
and get it over with.”
“Sure, that’d be good. Why don’t we just put it all on
Mother’s hand… eighty-five to one. We’d be rich.”
“What did you say?”
“What? We’d be rich.”
“No, you said Mothers Hand.”
“What?”
“Give me the money.”
“No way man! We lose this we’re done.”
“I know what she was trying to tell me. We’ll win.
Give me the money.”
“You’re crazy. It’s a dog. We’ll get killed.”
“I’m right. Okay, trust me. I’ve never been this sure
of anything.”
“You really have a feeling?”
“Yes, I feel it with all my soul. . . John, don’t you see
she’s trying to help me? Think about it. When’s the
last time that horse raced at this track?”
“I don’t think she ever has.”
“Don’t you get it? It’s too much to be just a coincidence. I need you to trust me, in spite of how irrational it seems. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know Carl. What if your wrong?”
“I’m not.” I’m just asking for a little faith here. Come
on buddy.”
“A little faith. If it wasn’t for you, I guess there’d be
no party. You’re that sure.”
“Yes.”
“This is crazy. But what the hell, it’s only money.”
“John, I love you. I just fell in love with you.”
“Save it. Okay. Just be right, okay. If you were ever,
ever, going to be right about a hunch in your whole
life, this would be the time.”
Three thousand on Mothers Hand to win.
The attaché is the one person the church can
count on to be discrete and thorough.
“I’ll take care of it. I always take care of it.”

“You’re not welcome here priest.”
“I deserve that. I want to tell you everything Carl.
I met your mother in Rome. She was a travel writer.
She was only eighteen and already poised and independent. I was quite taken by her. It was just two
months before I took my vows. I couldn’t tell anyone about her, you understand.”
“Sure. Wouldn’t want to create a scandal now
would we?”
“I wanted to be a priest. That’s all I ever wanted.
I failed her, you, Rico. I’m not asking you to forgive
me, just know I’d change things if I could.”
“That’s comforting. Is that all? Because I’ve got
things to do.”
Wait. When your mother became pregnant, I made
a deal with the church.” “Your mother had a gift.”
“Her writing.” Carl whispered.
“Right. The deal was they, the church, would keep
our relationship secret and take care of our family
in exchange for your mothers cooperation.”
“Her cooperation with what?”
“For the church, your mother was like a portal into
the past.”
“They would ask her questions and she would write
answers in a foreign, unlearned language. A rather
ancient one at that.”
“Lovely. I’m glad it worked out so well for the church.”
“She didn’t want to send you to her sister, but she
felt that living in secrecy was too much for her children to bear. Rico remained with my mother in
Italy. You were sent to the States. The Avalanche
story was a cover.”
“And your Irish accent?”
“Acquired.”
“Impressive. Why should I believe
anything a liar like you has to
say?”
“Because I’m going to help you.
The church will stop at nothing to stop you. I’m
all alone. For the first time since I can remember I’m
all alone. They’ll find me, but I will not help them
hurt my family.
I won’t be able to talk to you after this. Your mother
used to take drug called Ritalin to stay focused. She
always felt inspired by the sea. It’s not much, but
maybe it’s enough.”
“Where will you go?”
“My father, your grandfather used to say,” “Hiding
in plain sight is the last place people will think to
look.”
“I have to finish packing.”

“If something should happen to me Carl, I want you
to open this.”
“I can’t.”
“Please, for your mother. I know it’s difficult for
you. It’s difficult for me, too. But seeing you here.
A man… the man I always knew you could be. I
know now I made the wrong choice. Learn from
me. That’s all I can offer you. I know it’s not much.”
It’s been eight months since I’ve talked to my father.
Argentina turned out to be a bust. The
refugees that showed up there were
Romanian Jews looking for a better life.
John took his half of the money and
bought a fishing boat. Who would’ve
thought…?
A fisherman.
I read the Vatican
Attaché disappeared mysteriously on a
ferry. Imagine
that.
I know I’m
chasing more
than a ghost.
With each new clue I feel closer to my mother.

I will look for her till I find her, or the
money runs out.
My parents made difficult choices. The more I know about them,
the easier it is to forgive. I want my mother to know I turned out okay.
Nothing is in vain. Her gift was hope;
for the first time, I understand why it’s
feared so much.