It dawned on me that my mom's cryptic note about leaving my dad for a better man was a subtle way of saying she was leaving him to be a nun. Nuns sometimes refer to themselves as brides of Christ. The mystery was unraveling fast.
To gain access to the grounds, I decided to pose as a journalist for a Catholic magazine. Even nuns can't resist the appeal of being the subject of a magazine story. I even made a fake press pass. The mother superior agreed to give me the grand tour after some sweet-talking. As we walked through a hallway, I saw some group photos and thought I recognized my mom in them. Then I saw a wall with photos of the nun-of-the-month or some such. I saw my mom's picture with her name clearly written at the bottom. Bingo. I asked the mother superior about the nuns pictured on the wall and after some other misleading small talk, I pointed to my mom's picture and asked where she worked at the convent. The mother superior said she took care of the goats. I asked if I could see the where the goats were kept, and fortunately, by this point I had won her over and she agreed to let me mill around unescorted as long as I liked.
I took a meandering route to the goat pen and took pictures for the sake of disguising myself along the way. When I was certain I was within earshot of my mom, I took out a prayer book and pretended to recite from it. What I actually recited was Psalm 23, which I remember seeing at my dad's house while growing up. It was the only Bible verse my dad liked and I think my mom left it behind on purpose rather than taking it with the rest of her stuff. When I finished with "the lord is my shepherd; I shall not want", she turned towards me and began studying my face. I don't think she had ever seen me with long hair or a beard before.
"I once knew a man who loved that verse" she said.
"I still know a man who loves that verse. He has it hanging on the wall of his house. He once bought a puppy for his wife. She named it Daisy."
"Tom?!"
"Mom?!"
"I thought you were dead!"
"Dad told me *you* were dead!"
She took me into her nearby cell and took a newspaper clipping out of a drawer. It was an article from my hometown paper about how I had been reported missing in action. For some reason, there had never been a follow-up article about my rescue. Also there had been no news coverage of my rampage in Amity. I'm still trying to figure out how that happened. There's a western called The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. The ending reveals an interesting lesson about how news becomes history. It is often a crooked path with a lot of distortion. In this instance, I was happy that my mom did not find out about my crimes in Amity.
We spent the next few hours catching up. It was surprisingly pleasant. I felt obligated to tell her what my dad told me before I began my investigation.
"That's his choice, and I don't blame him for it. I did basically abandon him while he was overseas."
"We can't change the past; just learn from it and move on."
"And how have you been moving on?"
"I left the Army, got married, got a new job, and have a kid on the way. I was also thinking of getting into politics as a campaign manager."
"Why that? Why not run yourself?"
"When I see who wins and who loses, it has a lot to do with matters of appearance. I'd rather help someone likeable win, like what happened in Cyrano de Bergerac."
"That's the one where the guy with the big nose writes love letters for his friend, right?"
"Yep, that's it. I read that a lot of people thought they were voting for Teddy Roosevelt when FDR was the nominee for the 1932 election."
"It's amazing how clueless so many people can be at the same time."
"So many movements are fueled by the willful ignorance of their supporters. Sometimes all that can be done is to get people to do the right thing for the wrong reason."
"It seems like your heart is in the right place. I wish we could have stayed in touch."
"It's OK. The experiences I had made me the man I am today. Pain is often the best teacher."
"I think you've had enough lessons in that to last a lifetime. Your new mission should be to be happy."
"That might end up being my hardest mission yet. I never back down from a challenge though. Here's my latest contact info. Let's keep in touch this time."
"At least stay long enough for us to eat dinner together. I'll bring a plate out for you."
I was curious to see what nuns eat for dinner. It was lentil soup, black bread, goat cheese, and a salad. She even brought out a bit of red wine. It's nice to know that even nuns like wine with dinner. She had a quiet, simple life in the scenic countryside with animals and was happy. I can see why should chose that and began to wonder why I had charged into hell on earth with such gusto. Whatever that reason was, it didn't matter anymore. We finished eating at about the same time. I had been trying hard to take human-size bites. We hugged long and hard and then I left.
I decided to stretch my legs for a bit and ponder the stars. One of the great missed pleasures of life is to see the night sky far away from any source of artificial light. In many ways, the world is chaotic and cruel, but it can also be very beautiful.
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