ME & GEORGE BURNS

(Author’s Note: Just for the record – This is fiction. RM).

It happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to be scared. I remember that I was pulling into the next lane. I had my left turn signal on, and I glanced back over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear. I must have been going about 65, which was actually a little slow for the 405 that day. But when I turned back around, the truck in front of me had stopped. All I saw was red tail lights. Then black.

Next thing I know, I’m in the ER at Cedars. I see lots of little kids. One with her head in her mother’s lap, and the mother was stroking her head, ever so gently, with that fifty-yard stare. Then I saw me. It felt like I was on the other side of the room and I recognized my hair. The rest was harder to make out. I was a mess. I saw lots of activities around my guerney. Someone pulled out the paddles and yelled “Clear!”, just like they do on TV. They were pounding on me for a long time. Then someone pulled a sheet up over my head and wheeled me away. But – Wait a minute! They couldn’t have wheeled me away because I was still in the room, checking out everyone else. Then I realized what had happened.

There was no tunnel. There was no bright light. Nobody called my name or waved to me. It was very disappointing, to tell you the truth. But not a bad sensation, just floating. You know that feeling you get when you’re falling asleep and you’re about half-way there? It used to happen to me all the time. Then images began.

Now I was in a steam room. I mean it. A schvitz. Like the old Jewish men used to visit once a week. All tiled in black and white. Hot as hell. (Just a figure of speech). In fact, I heard my grandfather, Mair, was very fond of the schvitz. He took my father there as a rite of passage. It was probably more important than a bar mitzvah. Now, this is funny because I’ve never been in a schvitz in my life, so now that I’m being inducted into my own personal heaven, why a schvitz?

Pretty soon, the heavy steel door opened, and in walks, well, George Burns. As in “Burn and Allen”. As in the movie, “Oh, God”, and the sequels. There he was, wrapped in a big white towel, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. He took the cigar out and said, “Hiya, kid!”. I was stunned.

“Are you God?”

“Sure”.

“But – Why do You look like George Burns? As a matter of fact, you sound like George Burns.”

“Isn’t that what you expected?” A little sly smile played on the corner of his mouth.

“Well, I guess so, but I always imagined that that was just my immature spirituality and that You would enlighten me later on”.

“Your spirituality is fine. Listen, I don’t really have an image that you could recognize, so I do it on a case-by-case basis. You expected George Burns. Moses expected a burning bush. Get it?”

“Okay, yeah, I think I do. Do I get to ask questions?”

“You just did. Go ahead. Fire away.”

“Am I – um – dead?”

“Your old body is vacant, if that’s what you mean. It’s ready for the recycling bin.”

“The ‘recycling bin’?”

“Oh, sure. Nothing goes to waste, I promise you.”

“So – How are we having this discussion?”

“Well, just because your old body is sent back to the earth doesn’t mean your soul is scrapped, too! You’re a good soul. Sturdy. Indestructible, actually. You’ve heard the expression “immortal soul”?

“Yeah, but I never took it very literally.”

“Well, that’s understandable. Most people get confused by the body and think that’s the whole deal. Very common misunderstanding.”

“Well, so. How did I do?”

“You done good, kid. I’m proud of you”.

“Really?”

”Yeah. You did your best. You learned from your mistakes. And you were really good at loving.”

“Yeah, but I mean. I never did figure out why I was here, I mean, there. You know, I wasn’t a big success at anything. I never got that hit record.”

“You mean, you weren’t famous or wealthy?”

“At the risk of sounding shallow, yes.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret. Hit records never impressed me. Neither does fame. And wealth, well, you know. In and of itself wealth has no value. Can even be a problem.”

“But – I don’t know what my Purpose was. Can you explain that?”

“I don’t make up your Purpose. You do! That’s free will. One of my finest inventions, if I do say so Myself.”

“No predestiny?”

“No. How do you think I amuse myself? I’d be bored if I could predict your every move, much less control it. So now I’ll ask the question. What was the purpose of your life?”

“Ummm. I was a good daughter, a good friend, a good sister. . . I guess.”

“Don’t you know?”

“Yes. I was.”

“Very good, kid. So, what’s the purpose of being a good daughter, a good friend, a good sister?”

“Is there a purpose?”

”Sure. An important one. See, it’s all about connection. The biggest misery is to feel isolated, alone. The greatest joy is to feel connected.”

“So by making people feel connected, I contributed to their joy?”

“You’re a quick study. More tomorrow. I’m an old man. I’m tired”.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere. Don’t worry kid. Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I don’t exist. I’m as near as your own heartbeat”.

“Oh.”

He left by the door, which I thought was very sensitive. I was new to all this, and He was trying not to shock me.

© 2004 Robin Munson

GOD LAUGHS

A couple of days ago we were at the hospital visiting my brother-in-law, who had undergone surgery two days before. He was having a tough time, as the surgery was extensive, and they had him on a lot of medications. We were there to give him moral support and comfort.

I was sitting in a chair at the foot of the hospital bed, engaging in light conversation. All of a sudden, I got a stomach cramp. I told myself firmly, “Not now!”. I shifted in my chair to get more comfortable. Then I began to feel nauseous. I began to count backward from 100, trying to get into a meditative state. As I was counting backwards, I looked around the stark hospital room. My brother-in-law, Eddie, dressed in the ubiquitous hospital gown with the blue pattern on white, was hooked up to all kinds of I.V. tubes – Saline solution, morphine drip, catheters – he looked like the bionic man. I felt at that moment somewhat divided from him, as is always the case when the relatively well come face-to-face with the relatively unwell.

Now the nausea was beginning to get more intense. I began to feel very warm. I began to sweat profusely. I bent down in my chair, once again trying to find out how best to get comfortable. I vaguely heard my husband, Art, ask if I was okay. I mumbled, “I don’t feel very good”. Someone said, “Put your head between your knees”, which I did. Meanwhile, Art went out to the hallway to get a nurse.

Next thing I knew, a couple of nurses were in my face, telling me to sit up and asking me questions. I began to vomit. Someone put a bed pan in front of me. Once I had vomited, I began to feel a little better. I heard myself say, “I’m okay.” But the nurse said, “We’d better send you down to emergency so they can take a look at you.” I kept apologizing – to Eddie, to my husband, to my mother-in-law, to my father-in-law. It had not been my intention that day to add to everyone’s troubles. Had I had any inkling that I was at all under the weather, I never would have come to the hospital. And I was embarrassed. I mean – here I was making a scene, when Eddie was the one who truly needed attention.

Well, they put me on a gurney and wheeled me down to Emergency. Art stayed with me. A reasonable facsimile of Doogie Howser, a very nice young man, came in and questioned me. It seems they were afraid I was having a heart attack. Someone asked me if I was pregnant, which was the comic relief of the day. I had to take off my sweater and replace it with a hospital gown. As it turned out, they took some blood from me (they had trouble getting me to bleed, and I thought I would have another episode just from all the prodding). They took a chest X-ray. They gave me an EKG. Then, they decided to give me some I.V. fluids. Finally, I could see my reflection in the glass of the double emergency doors. I was a patient. There was no mistaking it – the hospital gown, the I.V. It had all happened so fast, so unexpectedly. For several hours I lay there, dextrose or saline solution dripping in to my veins, my name written on a big chalkboard. Nurses and technicians and Doogie dropping by every so often to reassure me that they were just waiting for results of all the tests.

Finally, at about 7:30 in the evening, the results came back. All was within normal limits. I could dress and go home. The I.V. was taken out. The official diagnosis was a “pre-syncopal episode”. The reason, basically, “who knows?”. The hospital gown came off and my sweater was returned to me. I got down off the gurney and walked out with my husband and my in-laws. For me, this time, it had been a five-hour ordeal, but it was over. Eddie was still up there on the sixth floor.

Sometimes odd things occur in our lives, and we are left to make sense out of them. I think maybe I was over-identifying with Eddie, and maybe that was the beginning of my feeling woozy. Or maybe I ate something that wasn’t quite right. Or maybe it was the smell of disinfectant in the hospital. Or maybe it was a combination of everything. But this time, I was okay.

It was a reminder to me that our lives can turn on a dime. Here we are, planning for our futures. Putting money aside for our “golden years”. We can’t help but see the future stretched out before us like a long, unending road, dotted with pleasant memories, holidays, grandchildren, perhaps travel, retirement, gray hair, learning a new language, hard-won recognition of our accomplishments, and the list could go on endlessly. But there is a Yiddish expression that translates to, “Man plans. God laughs”. We are allowed the illusion of having control over our lives, and within the larger framework, to some extent, we do. But the Big Picture is beyond our mortal control. And a little reminder such as I had the other day is a blessing. It forces me to remember that every day is precious. Every breath is precious. Our time here is limited, and we are definitely not in charge. Someone or something else is running the show. And whoever or whatever It is – It’s got a great sense of humor.