Walking Backwards - Episode 25
Drew and Ann solve a puzzle from Peeling the Onion, Sam fades away, and Mike shows Drew that peace surrounds us all.
This is the twenty-fifth episode of Walking Backwards, the third collection of not quite true tales of Texas. Previous collections are:
The Cold Days of Summer - If you are new to these tales and the type who likes to know how things started I would recommend starting here.
The Hollow Men - the second collection of not quite true tales of Texas.
New episodes are posted (almost) every Sunday. You can move easily between episodes via links to the previous and next episode.
If you are new to these not quite true tales of Texas but are the type who likes to dive right in you could start with the prologue to Walking Backwards. The prologue provides a summary of the first two collections and descriptions of the major characters you will be reading about in Walking backwards.
Last week in episode 24 of Walking Backwards, Drew arrives in Crane, Texas, nearly tells the truth, but tells a few lies to cover his tracks, realizes sanctuary can be found in more than one place, and completes his mission.
The second puzzle
In April of 1996 I got a feeling. It was time to solve a puzzle. Ann had been gently and lovingly badgering me for weeks but I told her I would know when it was time. Well, it was time. I told Ann. We sat down at the kitchen table on a Saturday morning, before Rae was awake, and opened “Peeling the Onion.” Ann had brought her bible to the table, anticipating our success.
I flipped through the pages, just seeing if my mind or eyes settled on a puzzle. I had gone through the pages twice, Ann was clearly getting impatient when I my eyes locked in on (1)N713.
I pointed to (1)N713 and said “This is the one.”
“How do you know?”
“I just get a feeling. Can't explain it. I guess it is intuition, sort of like when you hesitate for a moment, because something doesn't feel right. In this case, it feels right. 1N713 feels right.”
“Okay, how do we solve it?”
“We look for a pattern. Rick uses several different patterns, but I'm convinced each one is breakable, solvable.
The first puzzle was O2P35. That turned out to be Proverbs 3:5. The O stood for Old Testament. The 2P was a little tricky. Psalms is the first book in the old testament that starts with a P, Proverbs is the second.”
“Okay, if O stands for Old Testament then N stands for New Testament?”
“Works for me” I said.
“But there is no hint of what book in the New Testament. Just the numbers 1, 7, 1 and 3.”
I thought for a moment. The pattern was similar, but different. I was confident the N was for the New Testament. I was guessing the 713 was referring to chapter and verse, either the 71st chapter and 3rd verse or 7th chapter and 13th verse. Ann was right, there was no obvious hint about what book, but there was that 1 before the N. I thought some more. I flipped through the other puzzles. This pattern was used more than once so it did mean something. Versus thinking about the 1 and N by themselves I wondered if there was some meaning if you put them together, sort of how in Mathematics (x)y can mean y multiplied by x.
“Ann, does 1N mean anything to you? If we assume that the N stands for New Testament.”
“1N... The first of N? The first book of the New Testament?”
That sounded reasonable.
“Drew, the first book of the New Testament is Matthew and the 713 has to stand for chapter 7, verse 13. That has to be it.”
She opened her bible and opened it to the that chapter and verse.
“What does it say?”
She cleared her voice and read:
“Enter through the narrow gate, because the gate is wide and the way is spacious that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it.”
I thought back to the whirling dervishes and what Mark told me the last time I was in the field. He said:
“the path one person takes isn't necessarily the path another must take. You need to find your own path, Drew. Your path is waiting for you, go find it.”
Gate and path? I'm not sure if my old, but now dead friend Mark was trying to say the same thing as the disciple Matthew. I almost wanted to tell Ann about the field and my dreams but that would lead to a whole other conversation, one that I didn't have time for an early Saturday morning, if ever.
“Do you think this is it? Did we get it right?”
“I think so, Ann. The logic in solving the puzzle is solid. Let's see.”
I turned past the red lined page and flipped quickly past the pages looking for (1)N713 at the top of the page.
The page read:
Matthew 7:13 is the solution.
If you got something else, sorry, go back and try again.
If Matthew 7:13 is your solution, congratulations! You succeeded. Keep in mind that this pattern will work for a few other puzzles, but not all puzzles, so don't get too excited.
Drew, Mark has told you that the path one person takes isn't necessarily the path another must take. He is right and that is what this scripture addresses.
Yes, the scripture says gate, Mark said path, but they are one and the same.
Jesus says in the Gospel of Matthew “Enter through the narrow gate, because the gate is wide and the way is spacious that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it.”
This is an often quoted part of the New Testament but I fear it is one that is frequently misinterpreted. Many people will read this and say “the narrow gate” means there is one and only one way to God and that if you don't follow that single, narrow, prescribed way you are damned. That is incorrect.
Each of us has the power to choose to follow the path or enter through the gate that God has created for us. Each of us. We all are individuals. Yes, created in God's image, but we are imperfect images and we all are unique. As we are unique does it not seem illogical (this should appeal to you) that there would be a single way to salvation, a single way to God, a single path for all of us, a single gate for all of us to enter? Yes, it is illogical. We each must find our own path. We each must find our own gate. For some, it will be easy. We've all known people who it seems from early on knew their path, knew who they were supposed to be. I've always felt Tim Ingram is one of those people. For them the path was clear and straight, the gate was in sight. For others, the search is harder. Their path is not a straight path, their gate is not visible, at least not at the start. People like this, people like you, must be persistent. Your path exists, Drew, but it is not an easy one. It is not clear, it is not obvious, it is not straight. I do not know when you will see the gate but I know if you are persistent, if you keep trying, if you keep searching, the way, the path, your way, your path will become clear. I know that if you do not give up on life, on yourself, you will someday see your gate. I will be waiting for you on that day.
One last thing, this concept of a path to God is common in many religions. In the Quran, Al-Fatiha 7:6 reads: “Show us the straight way.” Also in the Quran you will find Surat Al-Mā'idah 5:48 “For every one of you we have established a norm and an open way.” Each of us has a way, a path, that leads to a gate, the gate that separates us from God.
No matter how crooked your path is, no matter how many dead ends you come across, if you keep walking forward (and avoid walking backward), if you keep searching, if you keep asking questions and thinking things through then one day your path will be clear. You will find your gate, you will see your true self, you will see your true reflection.
We sat in silence at the table for a moment before Ann spoke.
“Did Mark talk to you about paths?”
“Yes, he did, not long before he died.” I lied. Mark told me this after he died. To tell her the truth would open up things more than they needed to be. This seemed to be a good time to lie.
“This all happened before Rick died, right? The conversation with Mark? Mark must have told Rick about this, right?”
“Yeah, that's how it must have happened.”
“Who's Tim Ingram?”
“He graduated with us, the starting quarterback, smart, decent, not arrogant, always said hello in the hall. To be honest, he seemed too good to be true. But he was certain, he walked like someone who always knew where he was going. If anyone could see their path on day one, it would be him.”
“What happened to him?”
“He graduated from Baylor and last time I saw him, at the ten year reunion, he was in or planning to go to medical school. That's all I know.”
“Rick is confident, almost arrogant, saying how others misinterpreted Matthew 7:13. He writes like a priest, with confidence and knowledge.”
“Rick knew his stuff. I'll admit I like his interpretation more than the more 'narrow' one.”
Rick the man might had misinterpreted but this was Rick as God talking and I was pretty sure he knew his stuff. I wasn't quite ready to buy his stuff yet, but he knew his stuff.
“What did he mean by your true self, your true reflection?”
I thought of Stan, who has said he is my true reflection and how tortured he is.
I said to her “Do you remember Jason?” Ann nodded yes and I told her the story of werd.
“In the end, it was an inside joke: that I often see the world as if through a mirror. More than once Rick told me to quit looking through the mirror.”
“Are you searching for your path?”
I thought for a moment before I answered. “Yeah, I guess. I am. Didn't realize until I read this, but I guess I am.”
“Think you will find it?”
“I don’t know, but I don't plan on giving up. But I do know this, when I am with you the path seems easier to see and follow.”
We kissed and heard the first signs of life from Rae's room. Our day was beginning.
Sam’s last days
Sam was old. I hadn't noticed this day by day. It just sort of crept up on me. The three of us, Mike, Sam and me, still took our morning walks but in April of 1996 I noticed Sam was walking stiffer. I didn't pay much attention to it because she seemed to loosen up after a few minutes and seemed fine after that.
Sam was about fourteen years old, but she had always been healthy and with Buster living to seventeen I just assumed she had years left.
As April progressed, Sam regressed. At the first of the month when she woke up from a nap, she would walk stiff, then loosen up. Later on in the month she was walking stiff legged more and more. Long walks were wearing her out and towards the end of the month she declined to go out with Mike and me for an early morning walk. Then on Friday, May 17th she had great difficulty in getting up from a night's sleep, falling down more than once. She was also drooling as if she had lost muscle control in her mouth. I was concerned about her and took a day off to stay home with her.
Ann and Rae went off to school. I told Ann I planned to take Sam to see the veterinarian and hopefully find out what was wrong.
I called the veterinarian's office at 8:00 am and got the first appointment I could, at 12:45 pm that day.
Sam did get up a couple of times that day to go out in the backyard. She was walking very stiffly, dragging her front left paw. She would throw it out, take a step, throw it out, take another step. She didn't have the energy or the interest to run with Mike in the backyard. He seemed to understand and would walk slowly with her in the yard. Once Sam shook her head hard and fell to the ground. She got up, but it wasn't easy.
By noon she seemed disoriented, was walking with a pronounced limp and couldn't take more than a few steps with falling down. We left for the veterinarian even though our appointment wasn't for another 45 minutes. I left Mike in the backyard and I drove with Sam into town.
We arrived at the veterinarian's office at 12:15 and checked in. The receptionist looked at Sam, saw she was drooling and disoriented and led us back to an examination room. I sat on the floor besides Sam and talked to and petted her. She didn't respond to my words. Her tail did not wag. She did not smile. In a few minutes a veterinarian came in, talked to me for a few moments and examined Sam. The veterinarian was very thorough and kind, talking softly to Sam the entire time. Sam's tale never moved. I'm not sure if Sam could even hear what was being said. She was panting and drooling and her eyes rolled.
“Mr. Remington, how old is Sam?”
“A little over fourteen years old.”
“How long has she been like this?”
“Like this? Today. That's why I'm here. The last month she has slowed down. We usually walk every morning but in April she started stiffening up. I assumed it was old age. Then this week it got worse, then today she can't stand up for long and she seems disoriented. She's never drooled before either.”
“Mr. Remington, from what I see my diagnosis is that Sam has a tumor of some kind, pressing on her brain. The tumor is preventing her nerves from working right. That's why she is stumbling and drooling. She doesn't seem to be in much pain, but she doesn't seem to be aware of much either. I don't know if she is feeling much of anything now.”
She paused for a moment before continuing. “There are some things we could try, but honestly, in most cases they don't work. You may want to think about putting her to sleep. Looks and sounds like she has had a good life.”
I felt the tears well up. I didn't expect this.
“We can take care of this for you.” She looked at me and said “Let me give you a few minutes to think. I'll be back. I'll knock before I come back in.”
The veterinarian left Sam and I alone in the examination room. I wiped away my years and looked at Sam. She drooled, her eyes rolled, she panted. I talked to her, petted her but she didn't respond. I couldn't find Sam. Time passed, I'm not sure how long but I heard a knock at the door. I said “Come in.”
The veterinarian came in and asked me what I had decided. I looked at Sam, leaned over and gave her a long, hard hug then looked at the veterinarian and said “I will let her go.”
The veterinarian gave me a sad, caring smile. “Okay, we can take care of this from here. You don't need to be here.”
“I should be here, for her.”
“I don't think she knows you're here and it would be easier for you to let us take care of this for you.”
I shook my head no for a second but I realized I didn't have the strength today for this. I petted Sam, told her what a good girl she was and that things would be all right soon. I told her that where she would be going there would be plenty of other dogs to play with and that Buster would be there. I petted Sam one last time, stood up, shook the veterinarian's hand and said “Thank you.”
I walked out of the examination room and to the receptionist's desk out front. The veterinarian shook her head at the receptionist.
The receptionist said “Mr. Remington, you've been a good customer of ours and we know you love your dogs. Don't worry about a thing. We'll take care of this for you. Just go on home.”
I pulled out my checkbook.
“Mr. Remington, please, there's no charge for this. Just go home.”
I turned around and walked out. In the parking lot I sat in the van for five minutes grieving. I dried my eyes and drove home.
I walked out in the backyard. Mike trotted up, sniffed the air and lowered his head. I sat on the edge of the porch and he laid his head on my leg. I petted Mike and told him what happened.
I was in a little better shape by the time Ann and Rae came home. I told them about Sam and we all had a good cry.
That night I slept and dreamed. I woke up to someone licking my face. I opened my eyes and it was Sam, smiling at me. I sat up and looked around. I was in the field. Sam barked playfully at me, daring me to chase her. I did and she ran hard and fast like she had for so long. I caught up with her and picked her up. Her little stub tail wagged fiercely. I put her down and we walked towards the glow on the horizon. As we walked the other dogs joined us, first Socks, then Daisy, then Kaiser. Everyone sniffed each other and new friends were made. Then Buster made his appearance and Sam danced with joy. She ran around Buster, nipping at him and jumping playfully back. The two old friends chased each other until they both were exhausted. The six of us sat on the grass. Buster and Sam laid down next to each other and fell fast asleep. The other three dogs watched over them. I could feel the world fading away from me and all went dark.
I opened my eyes. I was back in West Columbia in our bedroom. Ann lay asleep next to me. I could hear the click of nails from the kitchen coming towards us. Mike walked in the bedroom and over to my side of the bed. I reached out and petted him for a few minutes. Satisfied he turned around and walked away, back to the rest of the house. I listened for a minute and heard him lay down by the back door. In a few minutes I heard him breathing smoothly. He had fallen asleep.
Unlike Sam when Buster died, Mike did not go into mourning. He seemed very content to be the only dog in the house. It took me awhile to get used to not seeing Sam. I still miss her smile.
A few good hours
Life was moving on. I was still living day to day but I was getting good at it. I was learning to see the beauty in every day, I was learning to see the miracles in every day. I have to give most of the credit to Mike and Rae, they've been teaching me a lot.
One morning Mike and I were walking as the sun rose. I was moving along at a good pace, listening to a recording of “Coast to Coast” an overnight radio talk show when I realized Mike wasn't beside me. I stopped, looked around and saw Mike about 20 yards behind me, sitting down on the ground, sniffing the air, looking around and listening. I walked back to him.
“You okay, boy?”
His tail swung fiercely, telling me he was okay. I took out my earplugs and stood there. I could hear the morning birds singing to the sun. As the sun rose I could see the dew on the grass. Across the fairway I saw three raccoons trotting to their hideaway. The air smelled fresh, clean and crisp. It was a beautiful day and Mike had stopped to revel in the beauty. I breathed it all in and felt good.
Just listening to Rae makes me feel good. Sometimes I catch her singing by herself and her voice is beautiful, tender, innocent and strong. Every evening after I got home from work she would tell me about her day at school. Rae reminded me of my younger Elizabeth when she was a child, full of life and rarely standing still. Every night I read to Rae until she falls asleep.
Every night after Ann and Rae are asleep Mike and I go outside to count the stars. Some nights the skies are cloudy and I can't see any stars to count, but I count anyway. Some nights there are thousands to count. I don't count them all, I usually stop at a thousand, by then I'm ready for the day to end. Mike and I go back inside. I lie next to my sleeping Ann with my hand on her waist. Mike lies at the foot of the bed. Some nights he falls asleep first and I hear his gentle breathing. Some nights I fall asleep first.
I was finding peace in this world, a few good hours at a time.
Author’s note: I have known most of the dogs in these “not quiet true tales of Texas.” Sam was full of energy, a very good dog, smart, just a little stubborn, and very protective of her family. I still miss her.
Next week in Episode 26 of Walking Backwards, Drew learns many of his old high school classmates consider him as lost.