Wings of Fate

About two years ago I had the exceedingly wonderful privilege to meet Hanna Taube one Saturday afternoon as I was antique hunting in her extraordinary shop of fine lamps and imported antiques in Lambertville, NJ. She immediately caught my attention; a scent of 4711 perfume faintly surrounded her, an air of refreshment. She stood roughly 5’ 6”--- and elegant, with an impressive style of fashion and a simple coiffure of slim, gold and silver threads perfectly held by a single pin in a chignon. There was a twinkle in her soft blue eyes that suggested genuine friendliness and knowledge. As she greeted me and bid me welcome I noticed a slight Germanic accent in her British form of English.

We chatted briefly and I made it my business to revisit her shop again, a few weeks later. This time we spoke in German and I was utterly charmed by this dignified lady. Well, in short, we became friends and I looked forward to my Saturday visits to her shop. It gave me not only the rare opportunity to speak German for a half hour, but also to slowly build a highly prized friendship with a lady my age who understood people. She took people at the value of their lives. Rich, poor, young, old, gay or straight played no role with her. Often we would have delightful laughs at life in general. Eventually we dropped the “Sie” and began to use the “du” form of German. This meant we were personal friends, like sister and brother.

She read some of the metaphysical books I had written and it seemed to bring us closer together. Then one unfortunate day she became hospitalized to have surgery performed on her neck, to help alleviate a numbing sensation in her right arm. I visited her in clerics at the hospital and we prayed together. And again visited at her home, also in Bucks County, PA. She mended quickly and I invited her to my Christmas Eve organ recital. It was then when she presented me with a gift, simply wrapped in a plastic bag. I immediately told her that I didn’t want to begin exchanging Christmas presents, but she interrupted my refusal by telling me it was not a Christmas present, but rather a wooden, hand carved plate that she had treasured for almost fifty years. AND, that if I didn’t choose to accept it she would understand. I unceremoniously accepted it from her and was quite impressed with the artistic measure of the wood carving.

Now, I’m not the sort of guy who has any religious wall hangings in my home, and there looking me sadly in the face was an eleven inch oak carving with the head of the crucified Christ. She told the story of who carved it, where it was carved, when it was carved and why it was carved. She also said that the more she got to know me, the more I reminded her of Rudy Hoffen.

This is a terrific love story; however, the names have all been changed to protect the guilty! Guilty? Shouldn’t it be the innocent? NO! Since I don’t want any damn law suits I’ve changed the identity of the ignorant, fearful, weak and guilty!