In Dog we trust (2)
I am an atheist. And that is a fact despite another not-so-obvious truth about me. That truth is that I have been witness to what anyone might describe as a miracle. Is one fact difficult to square with another? Not really, but I’m pretty sure that having a facile mind is important in adjudicating the nuances of my experiences. Again, there is enough room for wonder in the world without having to jump to any unwarranted conclusions.
When I’ve told this story in the past those of faith sometimes nod and get that knowing look in their eyes. They lean in to the story line, hungry for validation of their belief. If my circle of friends were more religious I’m sure I would hear an “Hallejullah” and maybe a “Praise the Lord” for good measure. But they’re not and for that I’m thankful.
Let me give you a thumbnail sketch….I come from a large family(10 kids), a seventh son of a seventh son and I had it in my head that i should have seven sons. Well, one thing didn’t lead to another over the years and there I was living alone and working in Florence, Italy and turning 40. I pretty much had given up on being the sire of a baseball team sized brood but I still yearned to be a father. One night, October 16th, 2000, I was restless, fretting the day away late into the night. I walked the streets of Florence until 5 am, seeing much that moved me in many ways. I returned to my apartment and furiously set down one of the longest poems I have written called “Mystical Fuck”. It wasn’t quite done but I fell asleep over it and slept into the afternoon.
Waking up the next day I was hungry and thirsty as well and my draft was in need of tightening up. I went to my favorite Irish pub in Florence, The Fiddlers Elbow, where I worked on the poem for a few hours and had a couple of pints of Guinness. Leaving the pub I walked slowly to the street corner with the ideas from the poem stirring in my head, the central theme of wanting to be a father beating a cadence in my brain. I came to my street corner, Via Della Spada (Lyrically named “The Way of the Sword” — which, being a fencer and devotee of swords was meaningful to me). I stood there for twenty minutes thinking loudly in my head, “I want to have children,” “I want to be a father”.
Suddenly, a voice came to me (in my head I believe). It said clearly, “Don’t go home the usual way.” Turning left and travelling for 200 meters would have brought me to the front door of my building. I went straight towards the Arno for 100 meters and turned right, walking for another 50 meters. I looked through the glass door of an Italian pub and noticed a tall blond woman, engaged in conversation with the bartender. Compelled, I went in and found an American tourist trying to communicate with the Italians. She seemed brave and they confounded so I stepped in to help. We hit it off and I offered to take her to dinner. She accepted. We spent four days (and nights) together and she left with her tour.
Two months later one of my best friends in the world asked me to be the Godfather to his new born daughter. He lived south of LA in Redondo Beach. I flew there for Christmas remembering that the young lady I had met in Florence lived somewhere around there. Turned out to be about three blocks away. I called her up and took her to dinner and later that night she looked at me conspiratorially and said, “I have something to tell you.” “What’s that?” I replied. She left the coziness of her oversized bed and went to the bathroom, returning with a small white stick in her hand. “I’m pregnant!” she announced. “I wasn’t going to tell you but you seem like a nice guy.”
Well, nice guys finish last, or so I’ve been told. But that does not change the miracle. Someday I hope to take my daughter to that corner and tell her “This is where you were conceived…not physically, but in spirit.” The miracle seems clear, I asked the Universe for a child and the Universe saw fit to guide me to an ovulating woman…she could well have been the closest. I don’t know. But the odds seem pretty long for a betting man. Good thing I am a betting man.
