A missing story...

The memoir is now up to 87,000 words and I'm realizing there are stories—important stories—that are missing. One of them is about the night Natalie was born.

I could have sworn I've written about it, but searches for individual words (about the extent of LJ Archive's capabilities) that I know I used in the story have come up empty, so let me tell the tale one more time.

January 1981 was a busy month for our family, as first of all, we had just moved from our apartment at 2800 University Boulevard South to the house we had purchased at 1873 Bartram Road. And when I mean "just," I mean that by the 20th, I had barely gotten to the point of setting up the bed that Galina and I slept on in the living room. Circumstances were not made easier by Andrew's being sick with something that had a tendency to dehydrate him, and the fact that our understanding of the doctor's orders to keep him hydrated had fallen short of the mark, and Andrew was now being admitted to the children's hospital that was just down the road, on Atlantic Avenue.

Andrew was twenty months old at the time and not a happy camper about the IV line installed in his arm. Galina and I tried to spend as much time with him as we could, but that was difficult for Galina, as she was very pregnant with our second baby.

Fortunately, the hospital had a policy of allowing parents to spend the night sleeping either in a chair (for free) or in a cot (for some nominal charge) next to their child's bed. We were living pretty close to the edge of our checking account, so that night of the 20th, I kept Andrew company and eventually, fell asleep in the chair.

Somewhere shortly after 2 am, I was awakened by the security guard, who told me I had a phone call. I had a pretty good idea who it was and what it was about, and my guess was right on the money. Galina's water had broken and we needed to get to the hospital. Although I was prepared to walk the few hundred yards from the hospital to the house, the guard insisted on driving me, for which I was grateful.

On the drive to the hospital, I silently prayed that no mile-long freight trains would be traveling down the tracks we had to cross to get to the hospital. My prayer was answered, and we arrived at the hospital at about 2:45 am without incident. I dropped Galina off at the ER entrance and went off to park the car.

Upon gaining the floor on which the maternity ward was located, I prepared to sit down and wait for as long as it took. I recall I had brought a cardboard chess set with me (one where pieces slide into slots) to help pass the time, but I was too excited to think about anything other than what was happening just a few dozen feet down the hall.

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long at all. At shortly after 3 am, I was called out of the waiting room and introduced to my wife and new baby daughter.

After a little while it was time for them to rest and for me to leave, but I had no idea what to do with myself. I was too jazzed to go back to the children's hospital, and anyway Andrew was almost certainly sleeping. So I drove slowly back toward our house and stopped at a diner, where I ate breakfast and consumed several cups of coffee.

At around 7 am, I picked up a pay phone and called my half-brother Steve, to let him know that Galina had given birth. His reaction was somewhat reserved, as he let me know that our Aunt Bonnie, who lived down south of us in Bradenton, had succumbed to cancer the night before, at around 9 pm. Having exchanged our respective information, we said our goodbyes and I broke the connection. A little while later, I called my boss and let him know I would not be coming in to work that day and why. He congratulated me warmly.

The question of the new baby's name remained unresolved for some time. Galina and I had never discussed names, for boys or girls (we didn't know the sex of the baby until Natalie came into the world). After a week or so, Galina sugested "Natalie" and since that suited me to a "T" (it was, after all, my mother's name) that was that.

However, Galina also told me of a strange event at the house that had startled her greatly, which may have in turn triggered Natalie's birth. SHe told me she was sound asleep in our bed, in the living room, when a gust of wind blew open the front door, located a mere few feet from where she was sleeping. The strange about that was, continued Galina, that she was absolutely certain that she had closed and locked the door before going to bed. I have no reason to doubt the tale.

So, what? Were some kind of otherworldly forces at work here? The only reasonable explanation, given certain assumptions, was that Aunt Bonnie's recently liberated spirit had traveled all the way from Bradenton to Jacksonville over an approximately 8 hour period and got the ball rolling for our daughter to come into the world.

But that's nonsense, of course, because ghosts don't exist, do they?

On the other hand, if they did (say I, as an engineer and kind of nerd who took pleasure in expressing speeds in, say, "furlongs per fortnight"), what number would I come up with if I did a back-of-the-envelope calculation that assumed Bonnie's spirit traveled directly over a "great circle route" from Bradenton to Jacksonville and was not stymied by natural obstacles such as rivers.

Approximately 200 miles over approximately 8 hours yields an answer of just over—67,000 furlongs per fortnight.

And why would I suspect it was Aunt Bonnie's spirit that hovered near Natalie that night?

Because in the short time I knew her, I found Bonnie to be independent, strong-willed, intelligent, well-read, opinionated, feisty, family-oriented, knowledgeable, generous, and kind. And believe me, as Natalie grew up, I saw a little of all those qualities come out in her and shine.

So, you may ask, do I really believe this story about Aunt Bonnie's ghost?

Well, no, not really. But on the other hand, I don't really not believe it, either.

Cheers...