This is a story, very much fiction, but a happy tale about Gary coming to CrowMac Creek. All family and friends of Gary are invited to visit and to leave their thoughts. I will, as long as I can, share news and events of Gary and others at CrowMac Creek. In CrowMac Creek, anything is possible.

Magic At CrowMac Creek

It was in mid July of 2018 that Jim Haynes sent a messenger text to me informing me that Gary Heil had passed away. The immediate feeling of sorrow washed over me like a wave, and I knew that a large part of my life had been lost in its sweep. I couldn’t have been more shocked, as after countless unsuccessful attempts of finding him, he finally showed up on Facebook. I had shared some posts with him, and he had responded with hearts and thumbs up icons, but that was all that I had seen.
Then, two days ago, Gary Heil showed up at the cabin, and I’m sure I saw him, saw something, I’m not sure which. My thoughts were reluctant and I just watched whoever it was walk up to the porch. Now his appearance at my porch defied any type of logic.
It was Gary, but a much younger Gary, and when I pushed him a little for an explanation, he just said, “Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, and he laughed.”
At that, I stared at him for a moment, and not finding the words for any further interrogation, I flatly stated, “Thank you, Mark Twain,” and gave up. How did he know about CrowMac Creek?  Before I could mouth the words he answered my question.  “I have a friend who watches over you, and he knows your heart and your thoughts. He recommended that I see you.”
Gary told me that he had found a place to live, and showed me on an old yellowed map. I knew the location and I shook my head. “That’s a nice area, but of all of the places you could have found to live, why here?,”I asked.
“Well, I liked it here when we used to ride up to the Mogollon Rim together, and besides,  CrowMac Creek is magic.” He seemed to ponder what he had just said.
I was still perplexed at his response. It was more than my feeble mind could fathom, so I kept my mouth closed, waited and watched. Time gave me no further clues as to what was happening; nothing that would clear and untangle my thoughts and emotions. Instinctively, I reached out and touched his shoulder, and it was solid, so this was no hallucination.
The next morning I called Sue and Jim and tried to tell them what had happened, but I couldn’t find the words to explain what I had seen and heard. It didn’t matter to them and they arrived at the cabin before noon. Gary had agreed to come over for dinner, so we were busy in its preparation. Sue and Jim prepared a roast, fresh bread, two vegetable side dishes, and a strawberry desert. Me, I just made sure that there was enough beer and chocolate chip cookies.
We completed everything and sat down to relax before the 6:00 dinner. We shared old memories, and talked about what had transpired the week before. It’s not everyday that someone who was thought to have died shows up at your door step.
Just as in the past, Gary was late. As we waited, Sue was sharing old memories, I was alternating between trips to the front porch to see if Gary was driving up the road and pacing around the living room. Jim just sat back and listened to the music.
Then I heard the sound of a Harley and saw him riding up the dusty road and into the driveway. He arrived in the usual Gary style an hour and a half late. As he stepped onto the porch, everyone witnessed changes in him. His hair was still long in the sixties and seventies fashion, but he had no gray. His beard was longer and tied neatly at its end. He walked upright and seemingly without pain, demonstrating the movement a very young man, but it was his skin that caught everyone’s attention. It was as pale as cream, smooth and as delicate as that of a newborn child. He had this indescribable glow about him. His eyes were as blue as the CrowMac Creek sky on a crisp fall morning, yet it was indeed, Gary. There was a brief moment of silence as Gary entered the living room, then smiles, and plenty of hugs were shared.
We’d already set the table for dinner, so that’s where we started the evening. The meal was wonderful, and we conversed as we ate. Sue, as usual, was full of questions, but Gary wasn’t entirely forthcoming. To some of the questions, his response was only, “You will understand more this evening.”
Time passed quickly with conversations about memories, current status, and updates of friends and family. Then Gary told us that he had spent time with Dan Beach, Gary’s childhood friend from Iowa.  At that, the conversation stopped. Dan Beach had passed in the early 1980s. And under any other circumstances, that couldn’t be true. But Gary had never been a liar, or had he been known to wander far from the truth.
At this point in the conversation, Gary’s demeanor changed from jovial to quite serious. His seemed to look right into each of us. Our eyes darted from one person to the other to see if each of us shared this perspective, then he spoke, calmly but with authority.
“I told each one of you that I have a friend who intimately knows each of you. He knows your thoughts, your desires, where you’ve done the right things and where you haven’t. But each of you has the desire to live their lives with integrity and honesty. He then turned to Sue, and his eyes seemed to illuminated her face.
“Sue, you have had doubts about Him, but he has never left your side. He has watched you and has enjoyed seeing you grow in spirit. He knows that you have turned away but he has great faith in you. You are favored among his flock and He knows that when you leave this world, you will recognize Him and he has a special place for you. You will not join Him soon though. You have many years to teach and spread spirituality that has helped you grow.”
Then he turned to Jim and spoke. “Jim, you are an honest and good man. You are patient, and your undying love has given Sue the support that has enabled her to grow. You have been a mentor to many and a friend to all who know you. You have many years to live and you will find open arms when you pass.”
Gary’s focused his eyes on me, and I expected no good news. I began to think of the flames of Hell and brimstone. My face felt hot and flushed, and my pulse raced.
“Do you remember when I wanted to date Sandy?” His eyes were lazer rays drilling right through my heart. I nodded, and in an instant I began to sweat. Sandy was my first wife and the mother of my only child. She had been my best friend and most staunch supporter, but I trashed the relationship. I had tried, years later, to reconnect, but Sandy did not want a do-over. I looked back to Gary, and focused on what he was to say.
It was then that Gary’s stare softened and he began to laugh. I was just playing with you. You and the man upstairs have a good relationship. His only gripe is that you are always coming to him a bag full of guilt and pain and asking that he takes that burden from you, then you turn around and take it back with you. There’s nothing between my friend and you that a little more faith couldn't fix. No, you are good with Him.”
Gary, Sue and Jim all had a good laugh, on me, but my desert was a large serving of relief. The rest of the evening was wonderful. We talked, shared stories and lived a kind of friendship that we’d never known before. At the end of the evening, we said good night and Gary left for home.
Sue and Jim decided to spend the night, and it was Sue’s idea to pick Gary up the next morning, and go to breakfast at Edna’s Café in CrowMac Creek. I was fairly sure where Gary’s new home was but not entirely. I glanced over at the Orange chair, and saw that Gary had left the old yellowed map on the side table.
“What luck,” I announced. “Gary left the map that shows where he lives now!” So we piled into Sue’s and Jim’s Mustang and headed through CrowMac Creek, and
turned right on the road that was shown on the map. We pulled up in front of the house.
“Who are those people sitting on the porch?” asked Sue
We stepped out of the car and the people waved and invited us onto their porch.
“Hello! We are here to see Gary Heil,” I announced.
“Gary Heil? We don’t know a Gary Heil, do we Donna?” Donna shook her head.
I showed the couple the map Gary had given to me.
“That’s our house, but we don’t know anyone named Gary Heil, and we have lived here since 2003.”
        Perplexed, we walked to the car. None of us spoke a word, and we headed back to the cabin.  This was one of those times that would never be explained.

Was that really Gary we spent the evening with?  It had to be.

Magic At CrowMac Creek

       It was just two days ago that Gary Heil showed up at the cabin, and I’m sure I saw him, saw something, I’m not sure which. It was Gary, but a much younger Gary, and when I pushed him a little, he just said, “Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," and he laughed. At that, I stared at him for a moment, and not finding the words for any further interrogation, I flatly stated, “Thank you, Mark Twain,” and gave up.
Gary told me that he had found a place to live, and showed me on an old yellowed map. I knew the cabin and I shook my head. “That’s a nice place! But of all of the places you could have found to live, why here?,”I asked.
“Well, I liked it here when we used to ride up to the Mogollon Rim together, and CrowMac Creek is magic.” He seemed to ponder what he had just said.
My thoughts ceased at what he had just told me. “How did he know?” Before I could mouth the words he answered my question.  “I have a friend who watches over you.”

A Miracle At CrowMac Creek

        It had been a long time in coming, but my old friend Gary Heil appeared on Facebook. Soon, we became virtual friends as well as the old friends we were since 1971. Then, in what seemed only a moment, I found he had passed. The intensity of the loss was more than I could bear. I was in profound need for a trip to CrowMac Creek. So I packed what I needed and took off.  I barely remember the trip up to the cabin and when I arrived, I stepped from the car. Instantly, the thin dry air washed over me and I immediately began to heal.
      I pulled the keys from my pocket, unlocked the back door, and I was home. I walked slowly, taking everything in, then sat in the orange chair I ran my hands over the fabric and smiled, thinking that Gary had once sat there eating chocolate cookies and drinking a beer. I wondered if any of Gary's cells were still in the chair and mused with the thought of reconstructing him by using the DNA from what cells were left behind. .
       I fixed a sandwich and sipped on a beer. My raging emotions as well as the drive up the mountain had taken its toll and I went to be early.
       I awoke to someone pulling into the driveway. It was a red Harley trike. A young man pulled his helmet off, looked to the front porch, and seeing me, waved. He walked to the porch and I was reluctant to let him in, then I'll be damned if it wasn't Gary. He was a young man, with black hair. He walked upright and did not reveal any signs of the osteoarthritis he had suffered from for so many years.
       I stood motionless, mouth open, and he smiled. We hugged and he walked directly into the cabin carrying a paper bag. Sitting down in the orange chair, he smiled again as he took a six pack of beer from the bag, and then a package of chocolate cookies....

The Magic and Memories of Route 66

       We first began our family road trips along Route 66 in the summer of 1958. We’d pile into our car at about 4:00 in the afternoon surrounded by blankets and pillows. First we’d drive through the Angeles Forest, past Lancaster and on to Victorville. By the time we reached Barstow, it was getting dark. That’s when the peace broke and the family vacation began to be tested.. When do we eat? Steve’s teasing us! Are we there yet? I gotta go to the bathroom. These first complaints were answered with polite, yet increasingly frustrated responses. As the trip continued, all of us kids were rotated throughout the car to avoid more serious complaints and bad behavior, but hair pulling, name calling, teasing, biting, kicking, and crying were increasingly answered with a backhand, and my mother could effectively reach each of us, no matter where we were seated. By the time we reached, Needles, California, bad behavior was replaced by sleep, and our mother was able to rest her left arm.
It was while driving through Arizona at night the was magic to me. The red highway, a steep winding road through Seligman, then on to Williams, and Holbrook. But my favorite part of the trip was at dawn, as we dropped down from the Chuskas into Gallup, New Mexico. The sight of sandstone cliffs and ancient basalt outcroppings felt like an invitation, and something from my past reached into conscientiousness. It felt as if I were home.
       I am planning a Route 66 adventure this summer through Missouri, a little of Kansas and Oklahoma. I will photograph points of interest and refine my writing voice as I go. Maybe I can visit my friend,John (Garvald Murray) Turbayne in Oklahoma City as well.