This is the story of a blind man named Frank Atwood. It is meant to show how our lives are intertwined with others in ways that we are not aware of until later in life. I had a small part to play in this story but this story is not about me. It is the story of the miracle of a blind man regaining his sight after death.
The story begins in a place called North Leslie in Michigan in the year 1948. I was 13 years old at the time and attending a one room country school. North Leslie was little more than a crossroads with a school on one corner, an old building that was a hotel in the stagecoach days, and a house on another corner. The old hotel had a store on the first floor and a large room on the second floor where dances were held.
The school teacher was named Dorothy Hoffman and she taught grades kindergarten through the eighth grade. It must have been a daunting task to maintain order while conducting classes for 9 grades.
As a history lesson, the teacher decided to have the class research local history and create a play that could be presented to the local population. Not only did the students learn of the local history, they got to live it in the form of a play. Part of the play was a square dance, so several of us had to learn square dancing, which turned out to be quite enjoyable. Music was provided by local musicians, free of charge I’m sure.
The fiddle player was a man named Frank Atwood who just happened to be blind. However, he was very good on the fiddle.
I had all but forgotten about the play until just a few years ago. I was visiting my sister and she mentioned that my name appeared in a book called “Our Neighbors Viewpoint” which is a history of Leslie, Michigan from 1836 to 1876. The author had somehow found a copy of the above play in the Library of Michigan and had included the entire play in the book. I am amazed that a play from a one room country school could somehow end up in the Library of Michigan.
My sister’s daughter-in-law, Judy, happened to be present when we were discussing the book and play. When I mentioned that the fiddler was blind, she said that she knew a blind fiddle player when she was a little girl. It turns out that it is the same man that was in the play. Now for the rest of the story, Judy’s Ghost Story.
My Dad had a friend by the name of Frank Atwood who was Blind from childhood. Frank played the fiddle and my dad played the banjo and harmonica at Leslie, Rives and Tompkins dances. My dad could also play the fiddle but that was Frank's department at the dances. Frank was never married and rented a room from my dad's sister Ester. He did yard and garden work for her and she fixed his meals. Yes...he weeded flowers even though he was totally blind. He said he could tell which was which because the flowers pulled easier. Her gardens were weedless and beautiful.
We used to go over to her house and sit at his feet, listening to him play the fiddle. He was a very gentle, kind soul who loved having us kids visit them and we loved going to see him. As a very small child I remember being a little scared of him at first because his eyes were sunken in but you didn't need to be around him very long before you got over any fear of him.
Then one day he died and my aunt came to stay at our house during the funeral days. She slept in my parent’s room so they slept in the bedroom with my sister and me. I must have been about six or seven, I guess. After the funeral, when we went to bed that night, I had not fallen to sleep yet and opened my eyes to see Frank standing in the bedroom doorway. He was just looking at my sister and me. He didn't enter the room but he didn't leave when I saw him either. I said aloud to my Dad "Dad...Frank is at the door", my dad said "what"? I repeated, "Frank is at the door". My dad was lying on his side turned away from the door, he didn't turn over to look or even move, he just told me to go to sleep.
So I stared at Frank for a few seconds longer and then covered my head. When I uncovered my head again Frank was gone. As I have replayed this video in my minds eye over the years, I concluded that Frank had just wanted to see what my sister Jeannene and I looked like and say goodbye before he crossed over to the other side. He really loved us girls and I still to this day feel that that is why he was there. Believe it or not!
My best friend Chris King died of cancer when she was 40 years old. Though she never came through in a ghost form to us, she did communicate with both Bill and I in two different strange instances within the three days before her funeral. Chris and I were inseparable buddies from ninth grade until she died. We could be together and never have to make conversation to be company for each other. We frequently didn't agree on things but never got angry with the other one, we still loved each other in spite of a difference in opinion or morals or attitude. It was a REAL friendship, the way they are supposed to be and so, so hard to find. I miss her very deeply even today and think of her almost everyday and it's been 22 years.
Anyway, the day after she died I was sitting at my kitchen table sobbing my heart out and talking to myself silently about how I wished I had something of hers as a keepsake. I was at the same time going through my billfold for a poem that my mother had given me to keep for her that she wanted read at her funeral someday and it was so beautiful I asked her if we could also read it at Chris' funeral and she said of course we could. So I was looking for that.
Now, so you will understand this next part... the communication part.... I need to tell you this other little story first. When we were young we used to meet our friends for happy hour every Friday night. Well one night while the guys were off somewhere just the girls met for happy hour. There was Chris, Suki (who is a laugh a minute) Carolyn and myself. Jim Hanks, a friend of Bill's, sat down at our table and said “what are you gals up to?”. We told him we were having a girl’s night out and we were all laughing and joking and really having a great time. All at once Jim picked up a dollar bill from the table, he tore it in four pieces and gave a piece to each one of us and said now you will never be broke.
Chris decided that we should each keep a piece of this dollar and when the first one dies her piece is given to one of the other girls who will keep it until the next one dies and that piece will be added to the others and someday it will be a whole dollar again. We all thought this was a great idea and each one put their piece in their billfold, where mine stayed to this day.
Okay, now on with the rest of the communication story. As I was looking for the beautiful poem, I was saying to myself that I wished I had something of Chris' as a keepsake, just as that thought left my mind as though I was speaking it, two, not one but TWO, pieces from a dollar floated from my hand containing the stuff from my billfold and landed on my lap together. As I picked up those two pieces of dollar bill and realized that one must be Chris' I got hysterical with crying.
I called Dick, her husband, and tried to tell him what just happened but he couldn't understand what I was saying so I asked him to look in Chris' purse for her piece of dollar. He said he had already gone through her purse and there was no piece of dollar in it. So either Chris (knowing she was going to die) put that in my billfold when I wasn't looking sometime while I was visiting her OR she gave it to me from beyond that day. I think she was standing right next to me and gave it to me because the two pieces were right together in my billfold and fluttered to my lap together. She would have had to be alone with my purse for some time to find my piece and then put them back in my billfold together.
The communication or Bill's goodbye happened I think the same day. Chris worked at Cowden Chevrolet where Bill worked for a while as the Part's Manager. Chris was the office gal and called people to the phone over the loud speaker. Well the day she died Bill heard of the loud speaker "Bill phone on line 1" "Bill phone line1". He said to himself man that sounded like Chris' voice but went to answer the phone. No one was on line 1 or any other line. She just wanted to say goodbye to him and did it in that way.
A little while after her death I wanted to confirm that the other piece was Chris' piece so I contacted Carolyn and told her what happened that day. She still had her piece too but it matched my piece from the left side, so I contacted Suki and she did not have her piece any longer, which would have been the piece in between mine a Chris'. When I saw Jim Hanks again I told him what had happened but he didn't even remember tearing the dollar and giving each of us a piece. I think everyone I told this story to thought I was crazy except Carolyn and Suki because they remembered this happening, but without Suki's center piece we could prove nothing. I still have both pieces in my billfold today and still cry while telling this story.
My Mom has also communicated with me and my sisters in several interesting ways since her death too. We all find it very comforting to know that she is watching and waiting for us somewhere just beyond the moon.
Judy
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