MODERN PARABLE: A MAN GETS A WARNING

One overcast autumn afternoon, a retired man was eating lunch in his backyard garden. He enjoyed the spot, shaded by a large birch tree, surrounded by small perennial beds that he and his wife had planted and tinkered with for many years. With her gone for 6 years, he did not feel sad to be there as he would reminisce of when they planted this and that. Instead, there was simply the wistful melancholy of missing her presence. Life however, was monochromatic.

He especially enjoyed the wildlife that visited his garden, surprised by the variety of species even though they lived in the suburbs. He delighted with all the birds who visited his feeder that he had hung from a birch branch. Today, as he ate he watched sparrows, finches, cardinals and chickadees fly back and forth from the shrubs to the feeder. He became aware of a woodpecker tapping on the birch. There were a pair of Downys  who often visited.  He liked with their flashy black and white markings and the red spotch on the head. He was thinking about nothing in particular when something began to reach his sub-conscious. He had served in the Army during WWII as a radio operator and he began to perceive a pattern to the bird's tapping. Rather than the usual tap tap tap, there was a long string that repeated. He suddenly realized what he was hearing: it was Morse Code. He got up and ran into the house for pen and paper. The woodpecker was still there when he returned and the pattern continued. He wrote down the message: YOU WILL DIE IN 7 DAYS.

My God he thought. What on earth is this? He had had incidents of cognitive difficulties in the past few years, something his children worried about especially with him living alone. Aware, he routinely did a series of mental checks on days where things seemed a bit off. But this, was way off the charts. Well, he thought, I haven't drunk anything today. Nothing odd with his food that might have affected his mind. I don't seem to be suffering from any visual hallucinations. Perhaps it's simply an auditory one. He was gazing with mind racing, at the woodpecker. The bird stopped tapping for a moment and making eye contact with the man, cocked his head in that avian way and flew off. It was the last the man saw of him.

The man slept ok that night but in the morning certain worries began to intrude into his mind. He couldn't simply write this incident off as some weird aberration. He sat at his kitchen table barely drinking his coffee. What if this is true he asked himself. Do I only have 6 days left? 

He always prided himself as a man of action. Assess the problem, come up with solutions and git er done. Well, he thought, I might as well hedge my bets and make sure my affairs are in order. They are but let's double check. 

The next couple of days he went over his will (no changes), made a long list for his executor and children concerning where all the bank accounts were, making sure the institutions had the correct beneficiary information on file and things of that nature. He called up old friends and out of town children for a chat, not a goodbye (how could he explain all this?) and visited those who lived nearby.  Oddly, he did not feel anxious or sad or depressed, he felt calm. Driving around town, he had a good chuckle remembering the Samuel Johnson quote about the mind wonderfully concentrating with the expectancy of imminent death. How true that was! Colors were brighter, food was delicious, wine supurb, women were all gorgeous, his favorite music took on special meaning. It was all soon to end.

For the evening of his foretold last day, he made special plans. Supper was his favorite pizza accompanied by a fine red wine. Cool jazz on the spinner. After supper, he fondly, without tears,went through a couple of photograph albums. I've had a good life he thought. It's ok. Either I wake up in the morning or I don't. He opened another bottle of wine and settled down on the couch to watch some favorite TV shows and fell asleep.

He woke up early. At first, a bit muzzy from all the wine he had drunk, things were not very clear. Only after stumbling into the bathroom to take a whiz did it occur to him: he was still alive. He dressed, turned on the coffee maker and walked around the house. Nothing had changed that he could see. It was just getting light outside with a bit of fog forming over the vacant lots in back of his property. He grabbed a cup of coffee and went outside. He was glad to have put on a sweatshirt as it was cool. Steam rose from his coffee as he put it to his lips, gazing out at the fields. Out in the distance he heard a couple of Sandhill Cranes with their unearthly, prehistoric calls. What was that all about? he thought of the past week. As it grew lighter, other birds began to call and out of the corner of his eye he saw something fly up to the birch. Tap Tap Tap. It was a Downy but his tapping said nothing. Tap Tap Tap.

Dear reader: indeed, what was this all about? A divine messenger sent to awaken an old man? A major auditory hallucination? Momentary insanity or breakdown? Perhaps a cautionary reminder to us all: take time to enjoy life while you  still have it. For some it seems,  special circumstances are required for the message to sink in.