The Ides oF

The Ides of August...............

And An Inherited Fortune

Julius Caesar had his Ides of March.

Mine are the Ides of August.

The brutally hot days toward the end of summer invariably recall a summer so very long ago when my emotions were deeply conflicted between sorrow and joy.

My Dad, my beloved Magician, was fading fast. The medical prognosis gave him less than two weeks to live; exactly the same amount of time my OB had predicted for the birth of our second child.

As it developed, both events took place within 48 hours of the other. I often told, John, our oldest son, that the two souls passed in the night. I truly believe that happened.

There is never a summer when I don't remember The Magician. I told his story in the first piece I had published in The New York Times. My Mother didn't approve of it. Yet years later I learned she had saved the original newspaper tear sheet.

I was young when Dad died and still young when I wrote “The Magician.”

Now years later on a hot August afternoon in Michigan when I am far older than he was on his last summer morning, I remember him rather differently.

No doubt, he was The Magician not only for me, but also for my two sisters and four cousins, our surrogate siblings.

However, maturity has taught me he was primarily, The Peacemaker, a quality far more important than any magical skills. We had complicated families, all living in close proximity on one city block.

Sometimes when I yearn to have my children closer, I tend to believe it was an ideal situation. In reality it was far more problematic than I prefer to remember.

My Mother's entire family (Father, 4 unmarried brothers, 1 sister and an adolescent niece) lived in the same tenement we did. Dad's Mother, Father, sister and her four children lived on the same city street several buildings east.

It would be lovely if I could say both clans were not only compatible, but closely intertwined. That would be untrue because human beings are complicated. Life was intricate generations ago, and remains so today. From an idealistic point of view, it is easy to pretend that proximity brings harmony, but that is also untrue.

There wasn't any visible family discord, but an aloofness between both clans. There was a constant underlying tension despite the obvious façade of courtesy. Dad invariably provided the strength and emotional stability for both families, mostly aided by his calm quiet presence.

I have missed him every day of my life since that hot August morning when he left our world. I believe I miss him more now when I wish I could ask his counsel on following his example in keeping peace. It has taken a lifetime for me to realize what a rare and wonderful ability he had.

We hear about negotiations between governments and politicians daily on TV and praise the arbitrators. However, maintaining peace in our own sphere of influence is far more important, and undoubtedly even more difficult.

Recently my sister discovered an unknown picture of a young man in a naval uniform, not a matinee idol, nor a renowned hero, but my young Father, who spent his short life sharing his mantra of peace, love, joy and yes, belief in magic, with all who knew him.

When he left our world, his small but significant estate was equally divided between those who loved him. We each received identical fortunes divided into three messages.

Never be afraid.

Never doubt your own ability.

Always, always, keep the peace.

A lifetime later, those of us who were privileged to have known him, still treasure our inheritance.