THE STRANGER AT THE FOUNTAIN

LISTEN / FILM CREDITS

July was new. We said goodbye to old friends, as tradition, marking our farewells with swinging in The Wabasha Street Caves. Beasley's Big Band whipped up a happy contagion echoing in the cavernous corridors, and we swung. When 'Sing, Sing, Sing' played, the floor parted like Red Sea for Zeke and me. I followed his decisive, quick movements, somewhat belated to their pull, moving to the rhythm pounding inside and through. Ten minutes of adrenaline. By the end, the small crowd applauded as sweat drenched our faces and palms. 

The first beats of 'In the Mood' called and in the chaos, Johanna and I latched arms, imitating Anne and Diana from the Christmas Ball scene where they wore puffed sleeves and their chins in the air, when a young man tapped my shoulder and separated us from our ridiculous imitation. I didn't have voice to say, 'No thank you'. His arms led swift and determinedly, I was unaccustomed to his gentle, however forceful way, and tripped embarrassingly on my feet. The song closed, we parted with few words. The music and heat began to throb. I passed the knight's armor through the double wooden doors, escaping into the solace of the cooling evening. 

Pulled to the fountain, I picked a handful of over-sized pebbles, positioned myself seven feet away from the bowl of water, and with back turned and eyes closed, tossed the rocks, bit by bit, aiming for the double tiered bowl, waiting for that hopeful ker-plunk!

"You are still here?" A voice like the oak my grandfather used to read David Copperfield in, humorously asked. I opened my eyes to a passing stranger with a gently aged face and long, smiling eyes.  He was irresolute and curious, as several hours before I had also been tossing pebbles.  
"Oh, no, Sir." Laughing, I defended my sanity, "I just found my way back." 
"May I join you?" 
"Sure. Here," I placed a few stones in his palm, "Now stand on this brick, with your back turned. Perfect, now close your eyes and think of the most wonderful thing you can... something that isn't true yet. Don't say what it is yet, just let it be." He smiled, his eyes closed. I laughed, "Now, throw one of the pebbles over your head and aim for the fountain." He tossed, the pebble missed and fell onto the red bricks. 
"Try again." I encouraged. 
"And what happens if it makes it in?"
"I don't exactly know. I like to believe your wish will come true. But I know God hears them. And what he does with them is for the good."

We continued for several minutes, tossing stones, as if we were long-lost friends of misplaced generations. 
"Do you like dancing?" He asked.
"I really can't dance, I just try very hard to deceive people... well, except for Native American tribal dances. I'm good at those." 
He laughed louder than the fountain. 
The ping of stones hitting the water filled us with a soothing contentment and we began to part ways, as dusk was also settling into night.
"Goodbye friend! Have a good summer--or life, actually, because I don't think I will see you again. But I hope I do!"
His smile reminded me of a full moon and he said, "Adieu." 
I called back, "What did you wish for?"
"Oh! I forgot to." 
"You better hurry, you only have a minute left until the magic wears off!" 
He laughed again, then called across the cobblestone courtyard, "Are you really a Native American?"
"No Sir, but in my soul I am."

I remember he wore a white shirt. I like to think he was an angel. 

MORE THAN A POCKET WATCH

November of 2012, Uncle John gave my pa a pocket watch. There was a letter folded in the package, explaining the story.  

Erich, 

What makes this story powerful, is not so much the story of the watch, but when it took place. Uncle Harwood had gathered his living siblings together at Grandpa Halberg's house on the St. Croix, to discuss Grandpa's fate. I don't recall who all was there, but it included Uncle Harwood and Dad... I'm not sure who else. I was there, but not in an active role... I was just a kid. As they, the brothers, talked, it was becoming clear that Grandpa could no longer live there... he would have to go to a nursing home. The feeling in the air was that of sadness. 

As this discussion is taking place, Grandpa was in his little bedroom by himself. Unexpectedly, he came out of his bedroom... every one, except Grandpa, was sitting. All eyes turned to him, no one knew what to expect, and there was a breathless silence. Then, Grandpa began to tell his story... 

'When I graduated from High School, my father wanted to give me a pocket watch. I told him that would be nice, but what I really needed was a new suit of clothes. So that's what he gave me. Then, when I finished college, my father wanted to give me a pocket watch. I told him that would be nice, but what I really needed was a new suit of clothes. So that's what he gave me. Then, when I graduated from Seminary school, my father wanted to give me a pocket watch. I told him that would be great... and that's what he gave me.'

Then Grandpa, who had used this watch his entire adult life, explained that he wanted to give the watch to Avery. He also expressed the idea that he wanted it to go to the first born son of each generation. Then Grandpa went back into his bedroom... that was the last time I ever saw him totally lucid. It was a magical moment. 

Years later, Dad gave me the watch, and told me the story... even though I was there, I loved hearing it. Then, since I will not have a son of my own, I gave it to you. When you feel the time is right, you can give it to our dear Aharon... and the story will continue... 

Hope this helps Erich. I love you very much.
Your brother, John