November 19th, 2009
Dear Dad,
Yeah, Mom sold the lots. I don’t think they give us much money, but I suppose every little bit helps.
I always figured we’d be richer if you hadn’t died. Probably better not to think about that too much.
I did talk to Mrs. Henry today. I said, “Can I ask you a really weird question?” When she said yes, I said, “If someone were dead, but you know, still alive. Like up in heaven or wherever, would they be able to do anything to help people here on earth?”
She smiled and raised an eyebrow at me, but she didn’t laugh or call me an idiot. She said, “Why did you choose to ask me?” I told her I didn’t really know, but I figured she was just smarter than other grown-ups. She seemed to like that. “I’m not smarter,” she said, “just better read.”
Then she explained that when she has questions she doesn’t know the answers to, she goes to others to get her advice. “Like who?” I asked. “I consult the great thinkers—Shakespeare, Dante, Plato, Cervantes, —oh, there are dozens more.”
“You mean books?” I asked. Of course she meant books. And she threw in a couple of the Bible writers then as well. She explained that when it came to most questions, these great thinkers usually disagreed. For example, she said, Plato seemed to think of the Underworld as an actual place. Shakespeare, James and others seemed happy to believe in ghosts. Chesterton and Lewis believed in some form of heaven and hell. While others, such as Hemingway and Twain, seemed sure that God, heaven and hell were pure fiction.
She sure knows about a lot of writers.
“So how do you figure out what the truth is?” I asked.
“That’s the fun part,” she said. “You find out what others—particularly others smarter than you—have to say on the subject. Then you do something remarkable. You use your brain.”
It was a pretty cool conversation. It almost made me forget Mudgett. Almost. Except for the fact that he showed me his taekwando outfit in his backpack, then he said, “You know what I do everyday after school, wussy-boy? I go to the Y and take lessons in kicking your butt.”
Great.
Your son,
Trevor
Dear Dad,
Yeah, Mom sold the lots. I don’t think they give us much money, but I suppose every little bit helps.
I always figured we’d be richer if you hadn’t died. Probably better not to think about that too much.
I did talk to Mrs. Henry today. I said, “Can I ask you a really weird question?” When she said yes, I said, “If someone were dead, but you know, still alive. Like up in heaven or wherever, would they be able to do anything to help people here on earth?”
She smiled and raised an eyebrow at me, but she didn’t laugh or call me an idiot. She said, “Why did you choose to ask me?” I told her I didn’t really know, but I figured she was just smarter than other grown-ups. She seemed to like that. “I’m not smarter,” she said, “just better read.”
Then she explained that when she has questions she doesn’t know the answers to, she goes to others to get her advice. “Like who?” I asked. “I consult the great thinkers—Shakespeare, Dante, Plato, Cervantes, —oh, there are dozens more.”
“You mean books?” I asked. Of course she meant books. And she threw in a couple of the Bible writers then as well. She explained that when it came to most questions, these great thinkers usually disagreed. For example, she said, Plato seemed to think of the Underworld as an actual place. Shakespeare, James and others seemed happy to believe in ghosts. Chesterton and Lewis believed in some form of heaven and hell. While others, such as Hemingway and Twain, seemed sure that God, heaven and hell were pure fiction.
She sure knows about a lot of writers.
“So how do you figure out what the truth is?” I asked.
“That’s the fun part,” she said. “You find out what others—particularly others smarter than you—have to say on the subject. Then you do something remarkable. You use your brain.”
It was a pretty cool conversation. It almost made me forget Mudgett. Almost. Except for the fact that he showed me his taekwando outfit in his backpack, then he said, “You know what I do everyday after school, wussy-boy? I go to the Y and take lessons in kicking your butt.”
Great.
Your son,
Trevor
Filed under Letters from Son | Tags: adolescence, afterlife, death, fatherhood, heaven, junior high school, middle school, purgatory | Comment (0)