The Pen

(Summer 2005)

someone is trying to give us a message. Maybe it’s Daddy. He knows how to get my attention.’ Great, I’m thinking to myself. She never paid attention to his advice when he was alive, why start now? “What could Daddy possibly be telling you with a pen?” I asked. ‘Maybe he wants us to be careful about things we sign,’ she answers. ‘Maybe he wants us to pay more attention to our surroundings.’ “Maybe he wants you to use a pen and paper to take messages,” I snap. “Maybe he thinks it’s a good idea to be prepared before you dial voice mail.” She shrugs her shoulders and dismisses me with one of those z-shaped waves through the air. Like Zorro without a sword. ‘That’s your problem,’ she barks. ‘You’re one of those non-believers.’ “Oh, no I’m not,” I holler back as we head to the car for our afternoon ad calls. “I believe the people we love are always with us. I just don’t think Daddy has anything to do with the hook & eye. If he had a message to deliver, he’d tell us through a dream.” ‘Daddy doesn’t work like that. He always did things his own way.’ Right, I answer. Like fix your car, last month? ‘Why is that so hard to believe?’ she asks in a stunned tone.

My father left Dawn his car – a 1994 Ford Taurus. We call it a “drive-by” because it looks and sounds like something that belongs in a bad neighborhood. But it has sentimental value and my sister refuses to give it up, no matter how much it costs in repairs. Last month, a piece of metal broke loose from under the car – making a deafening sound when Dawn started it up. She called her husband to report the problem. Mike is a service manager for BMW. Taurus. BMW. You get the picture. My sister thinks he can fix any car problem over the phone.

‘It’s time to junk it,’ he yells into the receiver. ‘I know it means a lot to you but it’s costing too much money.’ Dawn decided it was a good time to talk to my father about it. His divine intervention came only hours later when she got back into the car. No noise. No piece of metal dangling underneath. The problem, as she sees it, miraculously disappeared because my father wants her to keep the car in the family. Which brings me back to the hook & eye. Since it keeps finding its way back into the PT Cruiser, it can’t possibly be a jinx pen, Dawn reasons. It’s a special pen – our father’s way of keeping us organized. Way to go, Dad. Now, if you can figure out a way to write down the messages left on voice mail, we can use the pen for more practical purposes. Like fixing a flat or changing the oil. Anything but writing down phone numbers.