Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

Boilerplate

I’m Harold Dykstra.  I’m retired, but I go to food bank distributions all over Tracy and talk to people that need someone who will listen to their story.  My time is well spent.  A police lieutenant suggested that I write down the conversations that I had with an angel.  I did not know she was an angel at the time.  The angel, for a little over a year, indwelled a life-sized posable action figure my children bought me, so that I would not be perceived as travelling alone.  And in a way, she was training me for what I do while talking to the needy.  She probed my heart to find out what I believed and how I express love for others.  She changed my life.

In her leaving, she said someone would come.  I had thought that was Jesus, in His second coming, but a new Babs, a little older, the model for the posable action figure arrived.  While I had no desire to start over with romance, Morrie helped her move in, thinking she was the other Babs who had returned.

This Week’s Question

We are still on our honeymoon, but just two days ago, Babs asked me to mention some issues with the hostess for our “honeymoon destination.”

We knew that certain people could work very fast.  All we knew was that if a foreign national had been a spy for the USA, this organization could extract them and have legal documents in hand by the time they landed on American soil, but this was not a spy.  It was a woman who had lost her husband to violence and her daughter went to the USA after being beaten twice.  Acts of antisemitism.

But the friend of Pink Lady acts quickly.  It was Friday and we were on our way to the airport.  We insisted that Benjamin Franks, their eldest son drive his SUV.  Babs hinted that she wanted to do a lot of shopping and the luxury car’s trunk could not hold everything.  We all had overnight baggage.  Otherwise, we gave them no hints.  For one reason, we were not sure ourselves.  All this seemed surreal.

I programmed Ben’s navigation system with the street address and when the title of the location popped onto the screen, I asked him to keep it secret.

Babs kept the conversation in the back going so that we were at the Federal Inspection Services (FIS) terminal without anyone noticing.

Francis said, “Ben, did you make a wrong turn?  I’ve never been to this part of the airport.”

Ben said, “No, sir.  This is where the navigation sent us.”

I said, “Let’s go into their lobby.  I hear that there are people there who have something for us.”  I said ‘us’ in case this was a wild goose chase.

When we entered, we went to the front desk and we identified ourselves, all five of us.  The uniformed person nodded.  Then we saw a familiar face at the far side of the lobby.  Mashie Niblick was leaning against the wall.  He was talking with a man in a dark suit with a briefcase.  Mashie said something to him and the official looking man turned and walked toward us.

I was totally confused.  Mashie Niblick was the greenskeeper at the Hoity Toity Golf Club.  His wife, Pauline, was a professor in the department that Naomi Yeggs ran at the university.  They lived one cul-de-sac over from Deviled and Naomi Yeggs.  We had been to a dinner in their monstrous kitchen, and they helped with the FHAT (Feeding the Homeless At Tracy).  He was the last person I thought I would see here.  I did see a big black jet, like the one I had seen at the Tracy airport outside the “mystery hangar” as we approached the terminal.  I expected someone from Tracy might be here, just not Mashie.

The official asked, “Which of you is Françoise Franks?”

Françoise stepped forward.  “I am Françoise Franks.  Is something wrong, sir?”

The official smiled, “No, I have to go through this procedure.  Nothing is wrong.  Do you have any identification?”

Françoise turned red.  “I only have my French passport.  I have not learned how to drive.  I have no license.”

The official smiled and looked at her with soft eyes.  “The French passport is perfect.  You have no need to prove your marriage to Mr. Francis Franks.”  He took the French passport.  Looked in it and nodded.  Then he said, “Congratulations, Mrs. Franks, you are now a citizen of the United States.  Here is your French passport back, but you will no longer need it.  And here is your American Passport.”

François Franks grabbed her arm.  It looked like she was going to faint.

The official smiled and said, “Wait here.  The other package is about to emerge.”

There were typical airport chairs nearby, and we sat down.  Françoise was definitely weak in the knees.  She looked at the photo of herself.  They had somehow taken her French passport photo and recreated a new print.  She did not realize that American Passport photos had to meet certain requirements.  Photoshopping was not normally allowed.

While she looked at the passport and read everything, surprised that everything was correct, I kept my eye on the same door.  The official went back inside, and Mashie seemed to be acting as the guard at the door.  Pauline Niblick, Mashie’s wife, emerged and she walked over to us.

Pauline threw her arms around Babs.  “Mashie and I flew over to play golf at Hilton Head, and we heard you were here.  What a small world!  Just three days ago, we were at your wedding.  Is the honeymoon turning sour and you are ready to go home?”

Babs laughed, “No, Pauline, we brought Françoise here to get her passport.  Harold got a text with the instructions.  That was fast!”  Pauline just shrugged.  Babs introduced the Franks and explained that Françoise had just married Francis Franks recently, and she was their host at the honeymoon destination.  They talked about Charleston, SC, for a while, but then Mashie walked over.

Mashie said, “I hate to break up the party, but our package is ready for delivery.”

I hazarded a comment, “Mashie, I saw the big black jet over in the private hangar area.”

Pauline sighed, “We have a new expression.  ‘These are not the droids you are looking for.’”

I stopped for a second and then burst out laughing, “I guess you don’t have to threaten me if I told a soul if I did not see what I thought I saw.”

Mashie smiled, “Exactly.  But we are not the magicians with the lightning quick strings.  Will the five of you follow me to the door?””

When we got to the door Mashie knocked.  The door opened and the official returned with a woman in her 40s at his arm.

Françoise Franks screamed, “Maman, qu’est-ce que tu fais ici ?« 

Gabrielle Cohen said, with tears rolling down her face. “Ces personnes m’ont dit que je devrais venir vivre ici avec vous et votre mari. Je ne savais pas que vous étiez mariée. »

Note: Françoise asked “Mom, what are you doing here?” And her Mom replied. “These people said I needed to come here and live with you and your husband.  I didn’t know you were married.”

Mashie said, “Well, that sure looks like visual confirmation that we have the right package.  Now, if you do not mind, Pauline and I were never here unless you saw us on the golf course.  Have a great time with the rest of your honeymoon.”

Pauline whispered something in Babs’s ear, but all that I heard her say was for Babs to call upon our return.  Babs told me later that Pauline was the interviewer of choice when spies came in from the cold.  She had two reasons for being here.  One was to make it look like Gabrielle Cohen had operated as a spy, thus, justifying the working of assets, and she had to confirm that Gabrielle was a victim with no connection to countries hostile to the USA.   And Pauline was convinced that Gabrielle was a mother who missed her daughter, her only living relative.

Another official in a dark suit appeared with three suitcases.  We thanked him and we went to the car.  Ben asked if he was only brought along to carry the luggage.

Babs said, “No, silly, you are here to drive us around, and you can be the arm candy for Gabrielle.  Otherwise, you would be the fifth wheel.  Then again, we left Vidalia without knowing if she would really be here.  This all seems like a fairy tale.”

In the SUV, Ben and I sat in the front.  Françoise and Francis sat in the middle row and Gabrielle and Babs sat in the back.

Babs told her about how she had seen me in dreams and had to find me.  She had accepted Jesus, but she needed me to teach her, and now we are married.

Gabrielle talked about how she was a cleaning lady who was cleaning the room of a long-term guest, Isaac Cohen.  He was moving his business to Paris, trying to find a place to live, and dealing with all that by himself.  He walked in on her as she cleaned the room.  She asked if he would like her to turn down the covers.  He declined.  As a joke, and hopefully a better tip, she asked if he wanted to get between the covers with her.  She had tried that ploy before.  This was not that type of hotel, but the joke would get her a better tip.  But when she said this, she saw the pain in his eyes.  He accepted her offer, and now she had to comply since she suggested it.  They became lovers, and once she accepted the Jewish faith, they married about the time he had business and home in place.  Françoise came soon after.  Françoise getting married to become a citizen was beyond her comprehension, but they seemed to be in love.  Maybe it was mutual need, but they looked comfortable with each other.  Then Gabrielle talked about how in recent years, it has become dangerous to be openly Jewish in Paris, especially in some neighborhoods.

We had a marvelous conversation during supper at the Olde Pink House.  Ben and Gabrielle talked about their lost spouses.  Ben talked about how his sister had come from Vidalia to the farm to take care of Ben’s three youngest of his four children while he was driving us around Savannah.  The oldest being in college.  Gabrielle talked of how hard-working Françoise had been growing up, and what a joy it was having her as a daughter.  Francis, Françoise, Babs, and I made idle chitchat, mostly talking about what we wanted to do the next day.

I insisted on paying for four rooms in a very nice hotel downtown.  I had so many travel points with so many different hotel systems, I did not think I would ever use all the points.  I assured them that if they did not use anything in the little bars, I would pay nothing.  Francis and Françoise got the honeymoon suite.  Babs and I got a single king suite with a little lounging area.  And Gabrielle and Ben got individual rooms.

We wanted to do the historical tour and shopping along the historical market.  We wanted to go to Tybee Island and dip our toes into the Atlantic Ocean, even though it was February.  At least the beach would not be crowded.  And there was the ruins of a fort on the road to the beach.

But over breakfast the next morning, I overheard Ben and his father talking.

Ben said, “Gabbie came to my room last night.  You do realize we are very close to the same age.  I lost my wife to an automobile accident, a drunk driver.  She lost her husband who was beaten by antisemitic thugs.  And we have both been alone for a long time.  A couple of years each.  I have my kids, but they are a responsibility that I cannot share with anyone.  She wants to help Françoise.  We talked a long time.  We made a connection, Dad.”

Francis said, “You call her Gabbie.  You’ve made a connection?  I am married to her daughter and Françoise and I are loving every nuance in each other as we discover it.  If you are asking if you can date her mother, if Françoise has no problem, I do not.  But there is that old silly song to consider.  Ray Stevens sang it, but I don’t think he wrote it, ‘I’m My Own Grandpa.’  Françoise would become her own grandmother.  If she is good with that, I am good with it.  Umm. You did not sleep together, did you?”

Ben shook his head, “I was tempted.  She was eager, but in talking about it, we thought dating a little and getting to know each other’s children might be important before we get between the sheets.  Even then, we might wait until marriage.  You did, didn’t you?”

Francis said, “We were married a week before Françoise even broached the subject.  She thought I married her so that she could stay on the farm, safe from antisemitic gangs.  But I need her as much as she needs me.  And we have fallen in love.  Please, son, get to know each other.  Gabrielle is a legal resident and, as long as she is working, she can maintain her green card.  Do not rush into the physical aspects or into marriage.  And then if the time comes, I will accept you as my father-in-law as well as my son.”

Ben smiled, “You will always be my Dad.”

Babs and I would add this entire mess to our daily prayers.  It is a mess, but Francis and Françoise work well together, and Gabrielle and Ben have a lot in common.

We did the historical tour, riding horsedrawn carriages like we did in Charleston, SC, but we went shopping in the historical market district.  We spent time in retail stores.  Françoise got her mother a hair dryer and electric toothbrush.  The voltage is different and the electrical plugs are not interchangeable without an adapter.  Gabrielle also got additional clothing.

We asked her about her things in Paris.  She said some people came about dusk on Thursday.  They slid their credentials under the door before she let them in.  They said that they had a one-way ticket to be with her daughter and with a couple of signatures, they would have power of attorney to close out everything in France and ship it to her in Vidalia, GA.  They had the address of the honeymoon destination house.  By noon on Friday, she was on her way to America.  The people would pay for the airline ticket and the shipping from her savings and then transfer the balance to a bank account in Vidalia, GA once she had the account set up.

Since we wanted to visit the Franks’ little church outside Vidalia the next morning, we returned to the honeymoon destination Saturday afternoon late.

On the way, Babs suggested we talk about what the Bible says.  We always did that in lulls in our day and after the evening meal.  The driver did not have to read verses.

Ben, the driver, asked, “Can I marry my stepmother’s mother?”

Babs smiled, “You are moving fast, Benjamin.”

Ben shook his head, “No, ma’am.  We would like to date each other, but if it is against God’s Law, we need to know before we get started.”

I quoted, “‘“‘No one is to approach any close relative to have sexual relations. I am the Lord. “‘Do not dishonor your father by having sexual relations with your mother. She is your mother; do not have relations with her. “‘Do not have sexual relations with your father’s wife; that would dishonor your father. “‘Do not have sexual relations with your sister, either your father’s daughter or your mother’s daughter, whether she was born in the same home or elsewhere. “‘Do not have sexual relations with your son’s daughter or your daughter’s daughter; that would dishonor you. “‘Do not have sexual relations with the daughter of your father’s wife, born to your father; she is your sister. “‘Do not have sexual relations with your father’s sister; she is your father’s close relative. “‘Do not have sexual relations with your mother’s sister, because she is your mother’s close relative. “‘Do not dishonor your father’s brother by approaching his wife to have sexual relations; she is your aunt. “‘Do not have sexual relations with your daughter-in-law. She is your son’s wife; do not have relations with her. “‘Do not have sexual relations with your brother’s wife; that would dishonor your brother. “‘Do not have sexual relations with both a woman and her daughter. Do not have sexual relations with either her son’s daughter or her daughter’s daughter; they are her close relatives. That is wickedness. “‘Do not take your wife’s sister as a rival wife and have sexual relations with her while your wife is living.’ (Leviticus 18:6-18).  This is quite interesting.  Your particular situation is not mentioned, but it seems to mention any bloodline from either your mother or father.  Stepmother relations would be forbidden in that it dishonors your father who has married again, but the mother of the stepmother is not mentioned.  And you have a different dynamic.  You are an adult with your own family.  Françoise is legitimately your stepmother, but does Françoise act as your mother?”

Françoise said, “Benjamin is older than I am.  That would be bad.  I treat Benjamin as a son of my husband, with respect as a relative, not as my stepson.”

I nodded, “So, I may be guilty of a little backyard lawyering, but I think it is okay.  But I caution all of you to not cross those lines.  Françoise can be a chaperon for the younger children, but acting as a grandmother muddies the water quickly.”

Francis asked, “But aren’t there examples of incestuous marriages?”

Babs smiled, “Yes.  ‘Besides, she really is my sister, the daughter of my father though not of my mother; and she became my wife.’ (Genesis 20:12) This is the second time Abraham passed off Sarah as his sister, this time with Abimelek.  But there had not been a lot of generations since Noah’s flood.  Terah was the ninth generation after Seth.  There might have been cousins, but as the people started drifting away from God, the selection of a suitable wife may not have been available.”

I added, “’When morning came, there was Leah! So Jacob said to Laban, “What is this you have done to me? I served you for Rachel, didn’t I? Why have you deceived me?” Laban replied, “It is not our custom here to give the younger daughter in marriage before the older one. Finish this daughter’s bridal week; then we will give you the younger one also, in return for another seven years of work.” And Jacob did so. He finished the week with Leah, and then Laban gave him his daughter Rachel to be his wife.’ (Genesis 29:25-29).  So, Jacob married two sisters.  Jacob loved Rachel, but the promise came through Leah’s fourth son, Judah.  God brought the promise through the unloved wife.”

Babs said, “But you love me, don’t you?”

I smiled, “Babs, I love you, but we are still on our honeymoon.  Give it time.”

Gabbie leaned over the seat and asked Françoise something in French.

Françoise said, “Pardon my mother.  Her English is not that good.  But with all this talk about not marrying close family, she read something about not marrying outside your clan.

“Yes,” I said, “It was a special case.  The daughters of Zelophehad were not married.  Their father stood to get an allotment of land, but he died without being given his land.  Thus the daughters had no way to inherit.  ‘Then at the Lord’s command Moses gave this order to the Israelites: “What the tribe of the descendants of Joseph is saying is right. This is what the Lord commands for Zelophehad’s daughters: They may marry anyone they please as long as they marry within their father’s tribal clan. No inheritance in Israel is to pass from one tribe to another, for every Israelite shall keep the tribal inheritance of their ancestors. Every daughter who inherits land in any Israelite tribe must marry someone in her father’s tribal clan, so that every Israelite will possess the inheritance of their ancestors.  No inheritance may pass from one tribe to another, for each Israelite tribe is to keep the land it inherits.”’ (Numbers 36:5-9).  So, this pertained to the Promised Land, the land God promised His Chosen People.  It passed from father to son so that there could be no trading of the promise from one tribe to another.  You could marry outside your tribe, but the wife loses her part of her father’s inheritance.“

Gabbie again talked with Françoise.  Françoise asked, “But what about the kidnappings for the tribe of Benjamin?  No offense, Ben.”

Babs said, “That was all about taking an oath.  God is serious when we take an oath.  We should never take an oath lightly.  When the tribe of Benjamin saw how depraved Benjamin had become, they swore an oath that they would never give their daughters to the tribe of Benjamin.  ‘The men of Israel had taken an oath at Mizpah: “Not one of us will give his daughter in marriage to a Benjamite.”’ (Judges 21:1). But then, the tribe of Benjamin was nearly totally destroyed.  Now the cry was that young men of Benjamin, who had inherited land. ‘The people grieved for Benjamin, because the Lord had made a gap in the tribes of Israel.’ (Judges 21:15).  So then, they had a big dance at Shiloh where the tabernacle was.  When the virgins came for the dance, the Benjamin boys would each kidnap one for his bride.  ’ So they instructed the Benjamites, saying, ‘Go and hide in the vineyards and watch. When the young women of Shiloh come out to join in the dancing, rush from the vineyards and each of you seize one of them to be your wife. Then return to the land of Benjamin. When their fathers or brothers complain to us, we will say to them, ‘Do us the favor of helping them, because we did not get wives for them during the war. You will not be guilty of breaking your oath because you did not give your daughters to them.’”’ (Judges 21:20-22).  You see, this whole thing centered around the inheritance of land.  No one other than a Benjamin male could inherit Benjamin land.  It’s the Zelophehad daughter situation in reverse.  So, there would be a gap if no Benjamite remained without an heir.  But if the Benjamites kidnapped their brides, the father did not technically give his daughter to the Benjamite in marriage.  I am the only non-Jewish woman in this SUV, but I have to say that if the system was not so rigidly patriarchal, then it would have been easier in both the Zelophehad and the Benjamin cases.”

I laughed, “But Babs, then you would have a situation that we hear about all the time. ‘What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine.’  Then that gets messy.  But there are inheritances that are gender specific in all humans, no matter of ethnic persuasion, creed, rich or poor.”

Francis asked, “What is that?”

I said, “Only men have Y-chromosomes.  That can only be passed down from a father to a son.  And mitochondrial DNA is only carried by the woman.  It can only be passed down from mother to daughter.  And if anyone is thinking about this marriage of Ben and Gabbie leading to a vertical family tree – no limbs – any children that Gabbie and Françoise produce, if there are any, are bound by the Levitical Law that we started with.  Thus, no DNA intermingling.”

Ben said, “This was a great discussion, and I did not even notice how the time has flown.  We are already at our turnoff to the farm.

Credits

All these conversations remind me of my conversations with my wife.  We would talk about anything and everything.  And most of the time, it sounded like a discussion in a Sunday school class.

After the Wednesday short story, I realized that I had not given a little French lesson. Françoise is pronounced frahn-swahz. You pronounce the “S.” Françoise is a feminine version of François, pronounced frawn-swah, where the “S” is silent. In English, the male spelling is Francis, and the female spelling is Frances. Think his and her. So, if they used the French names, there is a distinction, more than the English. Oddly, Frank has its roots in the German language, meaning free or freeman.

The passport photograph is rigidly controlled with type of paper, size, and background.  Visa applications are less rigidly controlled.  For several years, I took Visa photos for everyone needing a new visa, mostly P.R. China and India, but after a while, the company’s administrative assistant had spare prints and all new passport applications were made with plenty of extra photographs.

The line about these not being the droids you are looking for is from the original Star Wars movie.  In other words, you have seen nothing here, just keep going as if we were not here.

Here is Ray Stevens singing I’m My Own GrandPa.  He admits in the intro that he did not write the song, and the original idea came from Mark Twain.

You may not agree with the interpretation that Harold made here, but you must admit the circumstances are unusual.

Soli Deo Gloria.  Only to God be the Glory.