ROAD TRIP (44) 1950 [From the journal of Samuel Carter] My physician today told me that I have a disease of the brain that will soon make it increasingly difficult for me to remember things. Special tests had been done at the neurological department of Modesto hospital. They were positive, the doctor said. Treatment was not an option. I have seen people with this disease and it is a most terrible sickness. As I write these words I feel that my life may be over, even though my body might live on for many years. My only hope is to move to Pueblo Flats, where the progress of time for the human body is so slow as to be of no consequence. I must consider my wife, whom I dearly love. Elizabeth and I have been together for more than twenty years and each day is like a new spring where the flowers of our love are as fresh as they ever were. I have often discussed Pueblo Flats and the strange occurrences there with her. I have told her of Belle and Clem and Alfie and others I have come to know over the years since my first visit. I have told her of how the people there do not appear to age. Elizabeth indulges what she calls my ‘fantasies’, she is kind and doesn’t ridicule me, but she does not believe. Would she wish to live with me in Pueblo Flats? Is she strong enough for the hardships of life there, even though our money would allow us to take some comforts with us? What of my son, Michael, who is now in his nineteenth year and studying at Harvard? He knows nothing of Pueblo Flats. It had been my intention to hand him the notebooks of my father, Ezekiel Carter, on his twenty-fifth birthday, just as they were handed to me. After allowing him time to read them I would have provided him with additional information from my own years of visiting that place: photographs of the desert lights, letters from scientists and scholars, none of whom believed sufficiently to go with me to see the lights—even at my expense, my own notes and conjectures that I still hope I might have time to turn into a document of substance and a fragile booklet, authored by B. J. and published in 1910 that I discovered only last year in an Albuquerque antiquarian bookstore. B. J.’s booklet was an exciting find for me, scholarly in tone, with well drawn diagrams, it describes the lights in a scientific manner but reaches no conclusions. I like to think that B. J. was my father’s friend Ben, but that, like everything else I know about these mysteries is conjecture too. I must seriously think about my future and the effect my decision will have on those I love. Thankfully, the family stores business has good managers and will cope very well without me no matter which path leads to my future. ******** Whichever way my life goes I will miss Modesto. This pleasant town has been my home for fifty years. I thought on matters for a full week before telling Elizabeth of my visit to the physician. “Oh, Sam,” she said, “Oh, Sam.” Then her beautiful face was flooded with tears and she held me close. Hugging her, stroking her hair, kissing her cheek, I held back tears of my own as I led her to the chaise longue, where we sat side by side. When her tears had subsided, I explained to her, little by little, what I believed my only two options were. “Is the doctor sure there’s no treatment, no treatment at all?” She asked. “He’s sure, dearest one. He told me to go home and get my family and business affairs in order.” “Oh Sam! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “I needed to think,” I said, knowing how feeble that sounded. For a while we stayed silent. There was little more to say, and I wanted Elizabeth to think, really think, about what I had told her. If she wanted me to stay here and slowly die inside, for her, I would gladly, sadly, do that; but if she was prepared to consider a life in ‘that place you go on your trips’, as she called Pueblo Flats, I would grasp that possibility with my entire being. “I believe...” se began. “Ssshhh,” I said, pressing a finger to her lips, “think for a day or two, there is no need for you to decide now.” Elizabeth decided that I should go to Pueblo Flats and make a home for us there. I will miss Modesto and my mother’s house. ******** Tomorrow I leave. I feel such sadness in me that it cannot be described. Many weeks will pass before I see Elizabeth again. We called Michael home from Harvard. When he learned of my health problem he hugged me more than he had ever done before and left moist patches on the shoulder of my suit coat—although he did not let me see his tears. When he learned that I was going to Pueblo Flats, a place of which he had never heard, he asked me to show him where the town was on a map. With some difficulty I found the location for him and pointed. “Ghost town!” He said incredulously. “It says ghost town!” “Yes,” I replied, “but the people there are not ghosts, believe me, son.” So it was that I told him everything I knew of Pueblo Flats, of his grandfather’s time there, and of those total strangers to him who were as good as family to me. I told him of the desert lights, and when I told him of the special ways of time there he laughed. At this point Elizabeth became annoyed. “Michael,” she said loudly, “you may not think you can believe what your father has just told you, but you must respect his words because he believes. Do you understand me?” There was a flash of defiance on Michael’s face. “Yes mother,” he said, as Elizabeth’s glare bored into him. “I’m sorry I laughed, father.” After that he started asking questions. I answered him as well as I could. I showed him Zeke’s notebooks, the single notebook of Ben’s that had come from my father. I showed him photographs, the booklet from Albuquerque, pictures of Belle and others. I showed him my own notes. Finally, after several hours, he was at least interested in what I had said. “If all this is real, father, how come no one knows about it but our family?” “No one seems to know about it yet,” I corrected, “and I dread what might happen when they do.” I firmly believe that some things should always remain secret.
Posted on: Sun, 14 Dec 2014 13:07:08 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015