Once upon a time, there was a child. They lay sleeping in their room, dreaming of whatever little kids dream of. Without warning, without knowing why. The child suddenly woke up staring at the foot of the bed. There, right there inside their room stood a man. Or, well, not exactly a man. It looked like a man, a short man with a distinctive hat. A very distinctive Fedora style hat.
Spoilers ahead! Listen to the show before continuing.
Stories are funny, aren’t they? Over time, they change, either intentionally, to rewrite someone in a different light, or innocently. Memories are fuzzy and how, exactly, memories get stored and processed is a medical mystery. It’s true for all of us, and it’s true for me.
I’d like to make a minor correction to the ending of this story. The man in the hat had indeed passed away by the time the encounter happened. But he had very recently passed away, in around 1992. While this does change the story slightly (he didn’t want to meet me, he already had) it doesn’t make it any less potent. In fact, learning this new-to-me information made the visit even more potent.
He came back.
Not for his son, not for his grandson, but for me. That’s a blessing I’ll take to my grave.
And hopefully Beyond.
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