How many of us have seen those articles or even emails about angels? You can find talisman-like angels next to cash registers at Lowe's Hardware. Carry one of these charms in your pocket, and you will be blessed by some angel somewhere. Angels are all around us. Some are visible, some are invisible... so they say.
Go look in the mirror. See if you can find one there.
My father is getting pretty old. He worries about his physical body "going bad on him." He worries about his memory and his ability to do tasks that were once second nature. It takes him ten minutes to log on to the computer and find his email. He watches my mother's health deteriorate in tiny increments each day and worries about the day she might not wake up. What if he leaves a burner on the range and starts a fire? If Social Security and his savings fail to keep the house bills paid?
Larry Perl is twelve years younger than Dad. He was an apprentice to Dad way back in the 1960s when Dad owned an autobody repair business. He was a hippie, a musician... he had long hair. And he was a very intelligent, quick learner.
"He's got a gift for making something out of nothing," I remember Dad saying.
Larry knew every part in inventory, by number, by quantity, by quality. He could mix and blend paint colors effortlessly. Metalwork was flawless. Dad thought he was pretty amazing. And Larry was cool. He played drums in a local rock band. We went to watch his band perform at a street dance near the high school. Very, very cool, I thought.
The young man helped us move from Livermore to Anacortes. We were packing boxes in June of 1968 while the tv news broadcasted reports of the assassination of Robert Kennedy. Late in the evening, Dad passed around take out chicken and Larry passed around that great California hippie wine, Red Mountain in the gallon jug.
I remember the evening winding down and Larry standing up from the table, saying, "Gotta make it... night all." How California hippie. How cool.
He came to visit us in Anacortes with his new wife and baby son. I was 13 or 14 and starting to get interested in listening to music other than what was on AM radio. He said the Allman Brothers are cool. Buy a copy of Eat a Peach. And then we lost touch.
Everytime I hear anything by the Allman Brothers I think of Larry Perl and wonder where he wound up.
So, not long ago, I was standing around with Dad in his front yard, and someone next door had the radio on. I could hear Duane Allman's song, "Melissa."
"Whatever happened to Larry Perl?" I asked my dad.
"Oh, gee whiz... I haven't heard from him since he came to see us on Ninth Street." said my dad. "It sure would be good to see him. I really liked that young man."
Dad smiled and said, "He's probably not so young anymore."
One night, during my middle-aged insomnia, I googled "Larry Perl." To make the long story short, I found an old article from a Livermore history page written by his sister. The Perl family, including Larry, were glider plane hobbiests and pilots. Then I googled his sister's name, found a bulletin board with her email address included and sent her a note.
"Yes," said Toodie Perl-Marshall, "That Larry Perl is the man who worked for your dad. And I remember your dad. We were just talking about him a few days ago. Such a good man your father is, and Larry would so love to hear from him. He has not had it easy for some time... quite a few challenges. I'll pass your contact information to him."
I heard from Larry within twenty-four hours. He told me my own dad was one of the people who influenced him the most, and someone he is grateful to for many good lessons. He'd often thought of how to get back in touch.
Dad and Larry are talking on the phone and writing to each other now. Invitations have issued. Dad is animated. He's talking about all the years they will catch up on. Mom is making up the guest room and looking up recipes to welcome Larry.
Dad is organizing the slide projector to show him the children, the grandchildren, and the single-engine airplane flights to Barrow, Alaska. Forty years of story telling are in the works, and I'm sure Larry is making the same preparations.
We did not know until today that Larry has a health crisis and has been in crisis for more than a decade. Only recently have his doctors found a resolution that looks very hopeful. In the next two weeks or so, Larry will know if he is out of the woods and can have some distance from the hospitals that keep him going. He says his goal is to come see my dad.
My friends and family would not tell you I am a religious person. I do not church. But I do believe the Spirit lives within all of us and does connect us. Maybe He speaks to us, and if we happen to be listening through the noise of day to day living, we can be instruments of small wonders.
I can't hear any better than anyone else does.
Could be I was listening at the right time, or maybe this is pure chance. My dad and his friend, Larry Perl, are helping each other be well.
I still can't say if I believe in angels. But I think I can say that each of us could be "as angels" in very simple ways.
I can't fix the economy, I can't make world peace, but I did facilitate a meeting that makes my dad (and his friend Larry) feel some happiness. Not too old or too sick to anticipate a renewed friendship.
A small miracle.
