September 14, 2009 Dear Spirit World,

Dear Spirit World,
My dad didn't like magic or his father, never made points using symbols and as far as I know didn't believe in an afterlife -- all traits he passed on to me.

So why am I starting to wonder whether my dad from the great beyond used a novel about a magician to make peace with his own father and to show me he's connected to my children. Ordinarily I'd dismiss this as a strange coincidence. However, it's the third such strange coincidence so it's difficult for even an extreme skeptic like me to simply dismiss.

My dad died from complications due to a massive stroke. I left my wife and son in Nashville to rush to Arizona to be with my two brothers during what turned out to be his final few days. This was the first time I was away from my 10-month old son.

This is when coincidence Number 2 happened.

"I know you have a lot on your mind and I don't want to worry you because he's fine," my wife said on the phone. "Max had an accident. He has a black eye."

I didn't ask the obvious follow up questions like what happened? or how is he?

I just asked "Which eye?"

Thousands of miles away, my dad was hooked up to life support systems and one of the common results the doctors told us was his development of a black eye.

"The left eye," replied my surprised wife.

Same eye as my dad.

"When did it happen?" I followed up.

"This morning," she said again a bit surprised about my line of questioning.

"My dad developed a black eye this morning too," I said. "It's his left eye."

At that moment, it honestly did give me some comfort to take the black eye as some sort of a connection sign. Later I dismissed it thinking I was being just like the atheist in the foxhole who suddenly started praying to God.

Jump ahead about two-and-a-half years to last month.

I found myself in front of my bookshelf on my dad's birthday looking for a book to read. I also inherited a bit of my dad's habit of buying books simply to put them on my shelf. Thus, there were plenty of unread books that at one time interested me to choose from.

As I pondered, I glanced at a book my dad had given me more than a year before he died. I always thought it was strange that my dad had given me a novel about a magician when he loathed magic and magicians. I also thought it was strange how many times he asked me if I had read the book.

Another thing I inherited from my father was the tendency to not do things I was told to do -- especially things my father told me to do. My father didn't become a lawyer partially because his father was a lawyer. He also told with pride the story about how he left Arthur Andersen at lunch time on his first day because he didn't like all the corporate rules. Thus, I became a writer then coffee house owner instead of the lawyer my dad wanted to be. And I didn't tend to read the books he suggested.

Sometimes this habit served me well -- I'm much happier and likely wealthier than I would have been a lawyer.

Other times this stubbornness cost me, like when I didn't apply to be a basketball camp conselour or only after he died did I read and enjoy several of the books I took from his shelf.

Carter Beats the Devil sat on my shelf for at least three years. I picked it up simply because of the coincidence that I was looking for a book on my dad's birthday and this one my dad kept pushing on me was staring me in the face.

For some reason about 50 pages into it the thought came into my head that there was going to be something in this book my dad wanted me to know. My dad wasn't the deep conversationalist type. Thus, suggesting a movie, play or book with a point in it would be much more up his alley. This seemed to be the only explanation of why my dad -- who hated magic -- wanted me to read a novel about a magician. He frequently criticized his dad -- an amateur magician -- for resorting to magic tricks as a way to avoid talking to his children.

At about page 100, I scanned through the book to see if there was a letter hidden in it. I did find a scrap of paper which at first excited me then let me down when I unfolded the blank small torn sheet.

I decided to plunge through the book about page 150 despite not liking it (felt it was an over-researched historical soap opera novel).

About page 300 I started setting myself up for disappointment. "I don't believe in these things anyway," I said.

After I finished the book I was more disappointed that I wasted my time reading it than in not getting my sign from above.

Before putting it in the give away pile, I opened it once more.

This was a used book my dad must have bought at a library sale. It still had the library stickers on it and the check out card in it. I looked at the last date that it was checked out. The first thing I noticed was that the date stamp was a bit strange. Someone had written "/08" next to the date stamp. Then I read the stamped date and added part and was struck by the strangeness of it all.

Aug 23 2001 /08
(the first part done with a date stamp the "/08" written in pen.)

My dad died March 26, 2007.

He gave me the book more than a year before he died.

My second son was born August 23, 2008.

Coincidence #2 was the black eye - connecting my dad to my first son, Max.

Coincidence #3 was the book - connecting my dad to my second son, Alex.

Coincidence #1 was the birthday - my wife has the same birthday as my dad's mom (my grandma).

I don't believe in symbols and signs -- especially from the after life.

But this is so darn weird.