MY NANA AND PAPA SIDNEY ARE ALIVE AND WELL...AND LIVING IN HEAVEN!

     Do you believe in miracles?  The miracle I am writing about today has nothing to do with saving a person's life.  It has nothing to do with bringing peace to the United States and the entire world.  It's not a miracle of curing cancer...or AIDS...or any other tragic disease.  However - to me - it's a miracle that has given me a belief far beyond any divine acceptance that I have always had; and clearly a trust that angels are all around us.

     Today - March 28th - is my Nana Matilda's 117th birthday.  My Papa Sidney will be 119 this August 19th.

     I say today...IS...my Nana's 117th birthday...even though she supposedly passed away on April 24th, 1973 - nearly 40 years ago.

     But what does it mean to "pass away?"  Why do we refer to a person's death - at least as we know it - as "passing away?"  Why do we not - especially in the case of family and friends - say that a person has died?  Is it to be more polite...or more genteel?  Personally...I believe it means to "pass away" in to heaven...and I believe there is...life in heaven...as if heaven is another universe.

     Before some of you think I've gone off the deep end...or that you feel I'm completely nuts by what may be interpreted as far-fetched...let me please explain my reason for this essay.

     It was Sunday evening, January 26th, 2013...and I had enjoyed a genuinely wonderful day...something I had not truly experienced in a very long time. 

     I was visiting Dallas, Texas for a reason completely unrelated to this commentary.  That being said...being a Sunday...I had time to accomplish one of my lifelong "bucket list" goals.  And that was to tour Southfork Ranch - the legendary site where many of the exterior and some interior scenes were filmed for both the original and current television series, Dallas.

     As one of the biggest fans of the Dallas franchise...and somone who had the marvelous fortune of interviewing its star - the late great, Larry Hagman - it was a tremendous thrill for me to wander about the Southfork grounds and roam throughout the magnificent house that I had seen on television for so many years.

     I - along with about 20 other people - spent 45 minutes or so with a guide; and then for close to two and a half hours, I moseyed and meandered  - far and wide - inside and outside Southfork - as I envisioned myself following the footsteps of J.R., Bobby and the rest of the Ewing family - and as I pretended - for at least a moment or two - that I was a Ewing myself.

     I walked practically every inch of that majestic mansion and much of the land outdoors.  Later, I treated myself to a terrific Texas steak dinner.  It was a superbly special day.

     I had returned to my hotel accommodations to take a nap.  After all, it was a Sunday; and I was somewhat tired from my jubilant journey at Southfork - so a bit of a snooze was just what I had needed. 

     Upon awakening a few hours later that same night, I became panic stricken as I felt that something didn't seem right on my upper body.  For nearly four decades, I have worn a gold chain with a gold chai dangling from it. 

     For those of you who are not familiar with a chai, it is a symbol of the Jewish religion that represents "long life."  There have been various mystical numerological speculations - according to the traditional Jewish system of assigning numerical value to a word or phrase, called Gematria - that the letters of chai add up to 18.  For this reason, 18 is a spiritual number in Judaism; and - as a result - many Jews give gifts of money in multiples of 18.

     For me, however, the particular chai that I write about today is a 14 karat gold charm that my grandfather gave to my grandmother on their 50th wedding anniversary on November 17th, 1968.

     When I woke up from my evening slumber, I realized that the chain around my neck had broken.  My immediate concern - and the question I had for myself was - where was my chai?  It was nowhere to be found.  I checked my clothing.  I tore apart the bed - from the sheets to the blanket to inside the two pillows to every nook and cranny of that hotel room.  My chai was gone.  I was heartbroken.

     True, this is a materialistic item and some of you may say that I need not put that much value to something that does not have a pulse.  But my chai is a family heirloom...and besides that...I have personally treasured it for nearly 40 years.  I deeply cherish my chai, as it belonged to Nana and was given to her by Papa Sidney on their golden anniversary day.

     I'm not embarrassed to say that I was devastated by the absence of my chai.  Tears were streaming down my eyes, as I suffered the loss of this beloved piece of jewelry.

     I called my mom on the telephone and she tried to comfort and calm me, as I was distressed and anguished that my chai was lost.  Mom, though, did what she always does when one of her children has been hurt - she tries to make it all better.  

     We spent what seemed to be hours - although I think it was really perhaps only a tad more than one hour - tracing my steps in an effort to discover where the chai might have dropped off my body.  Mom was sad not only because I had lost the chai - which was her mother's - but she was more upset because what had been a perfect day for me was now ruined by the missing chai.  And unfortunately, in recent years, I haven't had too many happy days.  The one day that had been so awesome...had now become a day of despair. 

     I knew that if I had lost the chai at Southfork, I would never find it; and since it was after 10 o'clock at night, I'd have to wait until morning to contact anyone at the "Ewing Ranch."

     I placed a call to the steakhouse where I had eaten dinner.  The manager was a sweetheart of a young lady who empathized with me.  She searched high and low inside the restaurant and outside in the parking lot.  Meantime, I obtained a flashlight from the hotel office and I checked every crack and crevice of the rental car I had been driving while in Texas.  But nothing.

     I continued to rip apart the hotel room where I had been staying.  I began to rummage through every stitch of clothing in the closet and in the dresser drawers.  I crawled on the carpeting.  I even sifted through two trash cans of garbage.  But no chai.  I was crushed.

     Mom, though, had faith that I would still find the chai.  She seemed certain that it would be found - either in my hotel room, at Southfork, or at the restaurant.  Mom did everything humanly possible - as a mother would do...or at least as my mother would do - to give me hope that the chai would be located.  But as much as she tried, I was becoming more and more convinced that I would never see my chai...my Nana's chai...again.

     Throughout this entire ordeal, I had been praying to God to help me find my chai.  In addition, however...I was talking to Nana and Papa Sidney...and asking them to please help me to find my precious pendant.  Unbeknownst to me...Mom was doing the same thing.  She would converse with her parents via a beautifully framed photograph...and despite the fact that Nana and Papa Sidney could not verbally answer Mom...she - as I - believe that my grandparents could hear her.

     For the third...perhaps fourth...maybe fifth time...I stripped off every bit of bedding from the mattress in my hotel room.  I inspected the box spring.  I did everything I could do, as I searched for my chai.  It wasn't on the sheets, on the blanket, under the bedspread, in the pillowcases...it was nowhere.  My chai had disappeared forever.  So I had thought.

     But then...while on the phone with my mom...I felt something under my leg, as I was sitting on the bed.  I moved the sheet and - lo and behold - there was my chai.  And I can promise you that it was definitely not on that bed moments before.

     Now there are those of you who are going to think that I am clearly off my rocker and that I am ready for the booby hatch.  Others, I'm sure, will agree in the belief that I have...that my Nana found the chai - wherever it was that I lost it - and that she placed it on the bed in that hotel room. 

     As illogical as some of you may think - or as logical as I do think - my Nana put the chai on that bed.  I am one-hundred percent positive and totally confident that the chai was not on that bed - on top of that sheet - prior to the moment when I discovered it.  Simply put...Nana didn't want me to be consumed with misery for losing something so valuable to me.

     I have not discussed this matter with any rabbi or with any priest, minister or other clergyman...nor have I shared this story with anyone else other than my mom...until I published this commentary today - on my Nana's birthday.  But I want to believe in my heart that others feel as I do.

     There is a heaven...and there are angels who live there.  My Nana and Papa Sidney are two of those angels.  And the chai that I still wear...is the proof.

     And that's The Controversy for today.

     I'm Gary B. Duglin.

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