Casandra's Curse

Cassandra’s Curse

Eighteen year old Cassie Rechvik hesitated prior to stepping in to Sunny Meadows Retirement home. Young Cassie had no idea why she was asked to come here. Her namesake, Cassandra Romanov, was a permanent resident here. The old woman was one hundred eight years old. Alzheimer’s disease had long ago taken its toll on “Granny Cassie.” The nurse escorted Cassie into her great-great-grandmother’s room and closed the door. The old, shriveled woman sat up and inspected Cassie from head to foot.

 “Good morning, Cassandra. Thank you for coming.”

“Good morning, grandma.”

 The old woman said, “That would be great-great-grandmother. I bet you wonder why I called you here today.”

Young Cassie said, “To tell to you the truth, yes. You’ve never known who I was.”

“Oh, I’ve known you ever since you were born. You are Cassandra, my youngest living female relative. There’s something I need to give you before I die. It’s in that trunk over there.” She pointed a withered finger towards an ancient oaken trunk. Cassie opened the trunk, found a smaller wooden box and placed it on the bedside table.

The old woman said, “Go ahead, open it.”
 The box was lined with deep blue velvet and contained a crystal ball mounted on a silver base.

“Wow,” Cassie said, “This is really cool. Is it real?”

“This crystal ball has been in our family for a hundred generations. Forgive me for giving it to you, but I must.”

“Why should I have to forgive you?”

“Because there is a curse…” the old woman started to say, but she closed her eyes and fell back on to the bed. She was dead.

A month later, Cassie was showing her best friends, Amanda and Debby, the crystal ball.

Amanda asked, “You don’t really believe it, do you?”

Cassie said, “Of course not. But you have to admit, it looks really cool sitting on the table.”

Debbie joked, “Hey, Cassie, tell me my fortune.” The girls giggled at the thought.

When Cassie looked, flames erupted inside the ball. Horrified, Cassie looked closer.

She said, “I see a yellow house on fire. Debbie, it’s your house. I see your house on fire.”

Debbie laughed, “Hey, you’re pretty good. You act like you really saw something.”

Cassie said, “I’m serious, your house is going to burn down tonight.”

“Yeah, right, and I have homework to do. See you tomorrow.” When her friends left, Cassie looked at the ball again. The yellow house was engulfed in flames.

The next morning, the newspaper headline read, “Three Dead in House Fire.”  Cassie shrieked as she read about Debbie and her mother and father.  She stuffed the crystal ball back in the box and shoved it to the back of the top closet shelf.

Amanda dropped in for dinner three weeks later. Both girls were still grieving for Debbie, but Amanda was nervous about something else.

Amanda said, “I met this new college boy in town. He’s invited me to a fraternity party tonight. Before I go, I want to ask you a favor.”

Cassie said, “You’re my best friend. I’ll do anything you want.”

“I’m not sure about him. He seems nice enough, but I want you to look into your crystal ball.”

“No way!” Cassie shouted. “I don’t ever want to look at that stupid thing again.”

“I know you have a gift. Debbie would still be alive if she believed you. Please look into the ball.” Against her better judgment, Cassie retrieved the crystal ball and placed it on her table. She couldn’t resist peering into the glass to see images that only she could see.

“I see a nice looking boy, with brown eyes, long brown hair, a nice tan, wearing an Ohio State Jersey.”

Amanda said, “That’s Gerry.”

Cassie uttered, “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.”

Amanda asked, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Cassie replied. “I see you and him and many other people. Everyone is drinking beer and laughing and joking. Wait, Gerry is putting something in an empty glass. Now he’s putting beer in the glass. He’s handing it to you and you’re drinking it. You put the glass down. It’s still a quarter full. You have a blank look on your face.  He’s leading you out of the room, to a back bedroom…”

Amanda suddenly snapped, “Get out of here! You’re lying. Gerry would never do a thing like that. You sound just like my mother. You never like any of my boyfriends!” Amanda stormed out of the room and out of the house.

Cassie kept staring at the ball, trembling at the vision enfolding before her eyes. Her best friend wasn’t going to survive her worst nightmare. She wondered why Amanda didn’t believe her. Why was she so mad at hearing the truth? Why did Cassie say “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts?” Where did I hear that before? Suddenly, the answer hit her like a bolt of lightning. Another Cassandra, a long time ago, during the Trojan War. Her ancient namesake could prophesy, but no one ever believed her. She had Cassandra’s Curse.

She peered at the ball again, desiring to know which fraternity house Gerry was taking her. The crystal ball showed her the house and then went blank. She had no idea where it was, except that the fraternity houses were on the side of town. She packed her Mace and cell phone, grabbed her car keys and rushed into the dark night.

It was past ten when she found it. Drunken revelers were carousing on the lamp lighted street and throughout the frat house. She parked her car two blocks away and ran back to the party. When she arrived at the house, she punched 911.

A female voice said, “911, what is your emergency?”

“There’s a large noisy party at 10340 Gate St. Lot’s of underage drinking. My friend is in there and she’s going to get hurt.”

The 911 operator responded, “I don’t believe you,” and hung up. Cassie , clinging to her phone, ran through the house and searched desperately for her friend among all the partiers. She noticed a bedroom door closing, the door in the vision. She rushed through the door to catch Gerry throwing Amanda onto a bed. She immediately punched her cell phone to call back the 911 operator.

Cassie said, “You leave her alone. I’ve called the police and they’re coming.”

Gerry sneered, “I don’t believe you,” and lunged for her throat. Cassie shot a blast of Mace into his eyes and kicked him in the groin. He lashed out, knocking her to the floor.

A male voice said, “911. What is your emergency?”

She said, “Sorry, my mistake. There really is no problem at 10340 Gate St.”

The 911 operator barked, “What do you mean no problem? I heard the struggle. The riot squad’s on the way!”  Gerry stood over Cassie glaring in anger until he heard the police sirens. The drunken thug cursed at Cassie and bolted through the door.

Cassie placed a blanket over Amanda and nonchalantly left the party. Amanda will be okay until the police find her, passed out with a date rape drug. The entire frat house will become a crime scene and angry detectives will find Amanda’s, and her assailant’s, fingerprints on the quarter full beer glass.

Cassie will have nothing to say to the police. After all, they won’t believe anything she says.

Evan's Story, Chapter 27

 

Inclusion and Exclusion in the Church

When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in?

Matthew 25-38

Our relationships with other people changed after Evan was born.  Since most of our friendships were within our church, most of what I will say involved other church members. Some people distanced themselves from us for reasons I do not understand. The most hurtful incident happened when Evan was about six. We were friends with another couple in the ward. I worked with the husband in my church calling and Cindy worked with the wife in her church callings. Their five year old son was very friendly with Evan. They had been to our house and we had been to theirs. When they gave their son a birthday party, they invited other children but excluded Evan. She mentioned this in passing to Cindy and didn’t feel it was such a big deal. If she had taken a big stick and hit Cindy over the head, it would not have hurt more. It would have been okay if we had considered them jerks beforehand. But these were our friends. Good members of the LDS church. If we were going to drop out of the church due to hurt feelings, this would have been the first time.

It was a relief to us when they moved away, but this intentional exclusion poisoned our attitude concerning the relationship between Evan and his peers. We were always on the lookout for further slights. I’m not sure we are over it yet.

Other families grew closer to us. Sam and Lennie-Lee Hodnett were shining examples. One of their twin boys was born with a heart defect, so they had a strong common bond with us. Tragically, their son died on the operating table, just shy of his eighth birthday. The Hodnetts moved to Nipomo, a community south of us, and then to the Sacramento area. Sam Hodnett served as a Bishop in the ward near our daughter April.

When Evan was older, Jeff and Katie Stassell, with their son Ryan, moved into our ward. Jeff and Katie had recently lost their oldest son to cancer. It goes without saying, they empathized with our situation. Ryan was a little younger than Evan and treated him very well. One of my biggest blunders involved this young man.

I was a stickler against people pushing Evan, since I wanted Evan to be strong enough and independent enough to wheel himself. So when I saw Ryan pushing Evan in his wheelchair, I told him not to. Ryan felt bad about this and later told his mother. His mother mentioned this incident to Cindy. Cindy told me about Ryan’s reaction after we had retired to bed. She could just as easily have said, “I love you. By the way, you’re a really big jerk.” I called the Stassells the next day and apologized to the parents and to Ryan.

As these boys grew up, Ryan continued to friendship Evan. His father also treated Evan very well. Neither Cindy nor I were surprised when Jeff Stassell was called as the Bishop to the newly formed Arroyo Grande Second Ward. Ryan grew into a fine young man. I can’t say enough good things about him.

Of all of the young women in the ward, the girl who was friendliest to Evan was Tori Burton. She knew how to talk with Evan, without the wheelchair coming between them. I later met Tori’s father, a carpenter who was paralyzed in a workplace accident.

I wish my memories of the other youth were as uplifting. Most children were not able to converse with Evan because of his mental delays. I witnessed many times when he was completely ignored by his peers. Perhaps they always thought that if Evan had his father with him, it was permissible to ignore Evan. Sometimes I was annoyed and other times I was incensed. The month prior to Evan’s big operation, I was serving as a counselor in the Bishopric. Our church had a large camp out involving scout troops from this area of the state. Evan was treated poorly by many of the boys. I was so sick and tired of it, I almost took Evan home. Cindy talked me out of it. Years later, Evan and I were at the church building for a Youth Temple trip. Evan was invisible to the other boys. When everyone was in their cars and ready to leave, Evan and I were alone. I was so angry and hurt, I did put Evan in the van and I did intend to just go home. One woman, Geri Murphy, saw what was happening and intervened.

Yes, Cindy and I complained the entire time Evan was in the Young Men’s group at our church, from age twelve to nineteen. Most of the bishops, counselors, Scout Masters and Young Men presidents did NOT believe there was a problem. I could handle this better if I considered these men to be jerks, but they were, and still are, hard working members of the church. I am an active member of the church in spite of these experiences.

Evan did go to other Scout Camps and they were mostly positive experiences. Most of the other boy scouts at these Boy Scout camps are from troops that are not LDS troops. In those troops, if a boy is behaving like a brat, they are dis-invited to attend. One year, Evan worked very hard to earn his merit badge for Archery. When he did get enough points on the range to earn the badge, entire troops of boy scouts cheered for him.

Jeremy Gardner was the best youth leader for Evan. Jeremy was actively engaged in getting Evan involved in any way he could. He even took Evan out on an ocean kayak during a scout outing. Today, Jeremy Gardner is serving as a counselor in the Arroyo Grande Second Ward. He and his wife are also raising a wonderful family.

When Evan grew out of the Young Men’s program, he was ordained as an Elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood. From that time forward, Evan meets with the Elders’ Quorum. Todd Woodland knows how to talk with Evan and he successfully reached out to him. Billy Fairbanks has also reached out to Evan. Today, Billy promised us he would make sure Evan is more involved in the Elder’s Quorum. I can’t thank these two brethren enough.

So what is the big lesson here? I’m not sure. The best people in Evan’s church experience are those who actively reached out to him. Evan is very quiet and easy to ignore. In a world where the squeaky wheel gets the attention, he is often overlooked.

For his part, Evan has remained cheerful at all times. He’s a much better man than I.

I Can Do This

I Can Do This

My wife announces, “It’s time to go.”

My eldest daughter says, “Thanks Dad, you’re the greatest.”

My youngest daughter says, “That’s right, Dad. You’re the best.” It’s funny, but my daughters didn’t talk to me that way when they were teenagers.  But now they’re grown, married, and making babies, which makes me grandpa to the best grandkids in the world and a ready made baby-sitter.

My wife asks, “Honey, are you sure you can handle them?”

“Of course I can,” I assure her, “how hard can it be?”

Really now, how hard could this be? Eight month old Mary is already asleep.  The two year old twins, Eddie and Rita, play well together. And three year old Billie is really warming up to me. I’m his favorite. My two daughters are dragging their poor husbands to a chick flick and I encouraged my wife to go. Lucky me. I chuckle to think of the guys sitting through a chick flick while I stay at home watching football.  The game starts in half an hour.

“You’re a sweetheart, dear,” my wife responds. “Have fun playing with our grandkids. And don’t let Billie play in the bathroom again.”

“Don’t worry. I can do this.”

The young ladies give me hugs, my wife gives me a hug and a kiss, and they say good-bye. The door closes.

“Waaaaaaah!” wails little Eddie.

“Mooooommy,” screeches little Rita. I scoop them in my arms.  Together, we watch their parents drive away.  They continue screaming until the car is out of sight. Miraculously, they become quiet and want down.  They’re happy and ready to play. Yep, I can do this.

My first indication I might be wrong comes from Eddie, when he empties the toy bucket over his head, spilling blocks, cars, trains, and helicopters all over the living room floor. I vainly attempt to put the toys back in the bucket.

  Now I hear a whimper from down the hallway.  I find Mary awake, not knowing where she is. I pick her up and walk her around.  Soon I have lulled her back to sleep. “Yes, I can do this”, I tell myself.  Then I smell something bad. “No way,” I protest. Grandpa’s don’t do dirty diapers.  At least this grandpa doesn’t.  Until now.  I have no choice.  After I finish the dirty deed, I assure myself, “I can do this.”

I carry the wide awake Mary to the living room, to find more toys scattered everywhere and three tots on my dining room table.  The flower vase is tipped over and Rita is splashing in the water. 

“No, no, no,” I say, as I pull each kid off the table. I decide to clean up the mess later.

“Play with your toys, while Grandpa rocks Mary to sleep.”

To my relief, they do play with their toys…for about two minutes. Now it’s time to climb on Grandpa. Billie climbs on my shoulders and drums on my head. With great difficulty, I get the three little monsters off of me. Now they want to be chased. So I chase Billy, Eddie, and Rita around and around, while Mary watches from the couch, mesmerized by the commotion.  “That ought to get all their energy out,” I think to myself.  “Then I can enjoy my game.” I eventually collapse in a tired heap on the floor.

“Grandpa’s tired, no more chasing,” I say, huffing and puffing. Sometimes being a grandpa is hard work, but I can do it.

Eddie and Rita jump up and down on my brand new leather couch. Rita falls off one end and knocks over my reading lamp. She doesn’t skip a beat as she bounces back on the couch.  

I say, “My couch isn’t a trampoline,” as I grab the little brats off of my fine furniture and return the lamp to its proper place.

“I got to go potty,” Billie cries. With that warning, I rush him  to the bathroom just in the nick of time. I sigh with relief.  As we leave the bathroom, I make sure the door is closed.  The last thing I need is another roll of toilet scattered throughout the house. The ladies will be home soon, I assure myself.

When Billy and I return to the living room, it’s quiet.  Too quiet. Mary is sitting contently, but the other monsters aren’t in the living room.  I frantically search the house. The other bathroom door is closed, so that’s not a problem. The bedrooms are empty. I enter the kitchen just in time to find Eddie on the counter, with the flour container over his head.

“No!” I scream, as a cloud of white flour envelopes my grandson. “What’s taking those girls so long?” I say out loud.

 I look at the clock in horror. The ladies have only been gone for fifteen minutes!

Trial by Fire

Trial by Fire

The seed of my inferiority complex was planted when I was about six years old. I fought with a neighborhood boy from across the street. Even though he was younger, I lost. I had other fights with this kid, and even though I was the victor, it didn’t help me feel any better about myself. As a small boy, bullies could pick on me whenever they felt they could get away with it. I tried to stand up for myself towards the end of seventh grade and was beaten by an older and larger bully.

I was also afraid of things that could burn me. I was never one to play with fire or matches. When the pilot light went out on our gas heater, my mother went to light it. She wasn’t sure of what she was doing, so she told us to run out of the house if anything went wrong. My mother turned on the gas and lit the match. The heater went “Whoosh.” I ran scared and everyone laughed at me.  

I joined the Navy in 1970. Navy Boot camp was a highly negative experience. The drill instructors were there to demean us and demeaned I was. It is said in our Doctrine and Covenants that most men, when they feel they have some authority, begin to exercise unrighteous dominion. A military recruit doesn’t need a prophet to tell him that. Deep down inside, I detested that culture and gravitated towards others who also detested the Navy. This affected my attitude. I knew I didn’t like the Navy, but at the time, I didn’t know that I didn’t like myself either.

I was assigned to the Engineering Division of a nuclear powered submarine in 1974. I was friendly enough with my fellow enlisted men, but I had misunderstandings with one or two of the officers. The Engineering Officer intimidated me, on a sub-conscious level, because he was powerfully built. He reminded me of that bully from the eighth grade. This comparison is very unfair to the Engineer, who was a hard working graduate of the Naval Academy.

One terrible day, something happened that forever changed me. We were in port, preparing to go to sea the next day. I was off duty and getting ready to go home. Before I could take the rest of the day off, my supervisor directed me to bolt down a few portable benches in the Engine Room. When I arrived in the Engine Room, Virgil Ibarra, a friend of mine was getting ready to troubleshoot a problem with a reactor coolant pump motor.  He was assigned to remove two fuses from a breaker in a 480 volt electrical power supply panel. I was designated the safety observer. I was five feet away and the Engineer was standing next to me.

The Engineer said, “Be careful. It should be de-energized, but you can’t be sure.”

Crouching over the breaker, Virgil carefully removed the first fuse with a set of plastic pliers. When he pulled the second fuse, a large fireball erupted from the breaker with a loud roar. I was completely engulfed in the orange fireball.  I knew I was going to die. However, the fireball was gone within two seconds.  I was surprised I wasn’t hurt. My next emotion was horror.

In the dark, my friend was screaming, with his hair and clothes on fire, running towards me. My first thought was to have him drop and roll. That was impossible, because there wasn’t enough room. I stopped him and patted the fire out with my bare hands. The burning pain just made me angrier at the fire. Another reactor operator joined me and a machinist doused the fire on Virgil’s leg with a puff from a fire extinguisher.

Meanwhile, the Engineer ran from the fire to the reactor control room. From where he was after the fireball, he may not have seen Virgil, but thought he was killed. Virgil was alive, but he was severely injured with second and third degree burns. My palms were covered in black, leading me to think I had third degree burns.

I left to apply first aid to my burned hands. The black was not charred skin, it was charred clothing. My burns were only second degree burns that healed within a few days. Virgil was transported to the Oak Knolls Military Hospital in Oakland. He spent three agonizing months in the hospital recovering.

My self-attitude underwent a dramatic change.  I visited Virgil in the hospital a few days later. He thanked me for saving his life. His wife also expressed her gratitude. Their gratitude was more meaningful to me than the medal I was awarded by the Navy. Everyone was telling me how brave I was, but I didn’t necessarily feel that way. I acted impulsively, without thinking. Some people criticized the Engineer for running, but I defended him. Being hailed as a hero is very humbling, but pride wasn’t my problem. My problem was a deep seated sense of meekness. As I contemplated my reaction to this horrible incident, I realized I had no reason to feel inferior to any man. 

My attitude towards the Navy quickly changed. The crew responded to the emergency in a very professional manner. The disagreements and misunderstandings I had with the officers seemed insignificant and was soon forgotten by all. By the time I was honorably discharged, I was highly recommended for reenlistment.

For the sake of my friend, I wish this accident had never happened. It did give me nightmares. But like it or not, the accident did happen. I’m glad I was the one who was available to help. As it turns out, I needed help too.