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This happened several years back after the death of my younger brother, Lewis, who was always known as a practical joker. Even after death he continued to play his jokes on us. If you don't believe in ghosts, listen to this:
Strange things started happening to all of us. It began when my brother, Vic, picked me up on Sunday at the airport and took me to my mother's house so that I could change into a suit to go to the funeral. Vic was driving his brand new black Lincoln Navigator. After I put on my suit we got back in the Navigator, turned the ignition key, and nothing, not even a click. There had been no indication of a mechanical problem before then. Worse, we were in Mexico now, so we were out of range for the 24 hour emergency roadside service, for which he paid a bundle. His cellular phone is out of range and, of course, he can't dial a 1-800 number from Mexico. Next he tried to get a jump start from the neighbors. They brought the cables and tried for the next 20 minutes to get it going, but the Navigator just would not take a charge. Eventually, the neighbors took pity, and gave us a ride to the funeral in their ratty, 10 year old, can't-remember-the-brand car. You have to imagine the discomfort Vic was feeling at all this, Mr. Rich and Powerful and all that. One of my mother's friends spent the next three days teasing Vic, publicly, about his fancy shmancy Navigator, and how he should have bought a sensible car, perhaps a Toyota (You have to know this lady, She's 5' 2", and can verbally lacerate you down to the bone). Then that night, Vic is lying in bed half asleep and wondering whether Lewis' spirit is still around us (Mexicans believe that the spirit lingers for days after death). So Vic thinks to himself, "Lewis, if you're still here, show me a sign". Suddenly, he feels something scratching his face in the darkness. He bolts out of bed and stumbles to the light switch. There on the bed is a green lizard (yea, an anole, same kind we see in South Texas). It had dropped from the ceiling in the middle of the night, and fallen straight onto Vic's nose. How it got into the room, or why it decided to lose it's grip right then and there is still a mystery. By now, we're starting to think that maybe there's something to this Mexican superstition. Then it's my turn. I get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. I start to squat and BAM! something hits me on the top of my bald pate hard enough to draw blood. Right across from the toilet, there's a couple of metal brackets for a towel rack. Ok, so maybe that's just me being clumsy, but I still have to spend the next two days telling everybody how and why I have a huge scab on top of my bald head. Next day it's Uncle Dan's turn. HIS battery goes on the fritz leaving him stranded. Different car, different brand, same scenario. Won't start, won't take a charge. Then it's Richie's turn. My nephew, little Vic, wants to have Luis's eyeglasses as a memento. Richie was staying in Lewis' room, so he looks for the glasses. Last time he saw them they were on Lewis's bed. Now they've disappeared. He turns the room upside down looking for them, even turns the bed sheets over. Nothing. So we start blaming Charlie, one of Lewis' freeloader friends, who came by the house and wanted to know if HE could have Lewis' computer as a memento (I don't think so!). So we blame Charlie for this, since he's already left to go back to Dallas. That night Richie gets up around 2:00 AM for a drink of water. He comes back to bed, flops on the bed sideways, and his outstretched right hand falls right on top of Lewis's glasses at the foot of the bed. Richie could not sleep the rest of the night. So, by now every bump or scratch that happens to anyone at the house is being blamed on Lewis and his practical jokes. My mother says it serves us right for rummaging through Lewis' things. My Aunt says "We'll nothing has happened to me, and nothing will, because unlike you, I was always nice to Lewis". No sooner said that she gets her gold bracelet caught in the car's door handle and breaks it off at the latch. Now everyone is laughing at my aunt. Finally, on my last day there I'm rushing to get my things collected so I can leave. Everybody is downstairs already. I go up for a final look, and I hear music coming from Lewis' room. I go in and I see that his computer is still running, the ICQ still receiving messages. As I walk in, a new song starts playing. The lyrics say "It's so hard to leave without you, so hard to let go".
So maybe it's all BS, coincidence, and fabrication. But that's not important. What is important is that every time we stub a toe, or bump our heads, or get into silly or embarrassing situations we think of Lewis. He was a character, and it was in his character to make us laugh at ourselves.
So Happy Halloween, Lewis, I will be thinking of you on November 2nd, the Day of the Dead, as I walk into the voting booth.
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