Communion Of Dreams

When I’m Fifty-Four.*

My wife answered the phone. I could tell just from her facial expression that it was bad news.

“Oh, no!” she said. “What happened?”


* * * * * * * *

As part of putting together the Kickstarter project for St. Cybi’s Well, I need to explain *why* I want people to hand over their hard-earned money. I mean, I don’t need to buy materials or hire someone to do research for me. I don’t need operating capital for renting a studio, there’s no up-front printing costs to speak of. Why not just write St. Cybi’s Well on my own time, at my own pace, the way I wrote Communion of Dreams and co-authored Her Final Year?

Writing such an explanation — writing anything, really — is the perfect way for me to clarify my thoughts, to push past vague thinking and distill my understanding. You’ll see the finished product in a few days, but this passage from a blog post a month ago is a pretty good insight:

I recently turned 54. And I have accomplished a number of things of which I am justly proud. I have friends and family I love. I have a wonderful wife. I have written books and articles which have brought joy, knowledge, and solace to others. I have helped to preserve history in the form of books & documents. I have created art, sold art, made my little corner of the world a slightly better place. I’ve even helped expand the pool of ballistics knowledge a bit. Frankly, I’ve lived longer and accomplished more than I ever really expected to.

But I have more yet to do. Time to get on with it.


* * * * * * *

My wife answered the phone. I could tell just from her facial expression that it was bad news.

“Oh, no!” she said. “What happened?”

She listened for a moment, then got up to go into her office. I heard her talking some more. When she came back I looked at her quizzically.

“Tanna had some kind of accident. John was calling to see if I had any ’emergency contact’ info from the Directory he could pass along to the hospital.”

A couple years ago, my wife and I put together this Directory for our neighborhood association. We’d included this option for people to list if they wanted. Tanna was one of our nearby neighbors, a nice semi-retired woman who we see almost daily on our walks.

I looked at her. “Anything?”

“Yeah, I told him what we had.”

“So, what happened?”

“She evidently had a stroke while out walking her dog. Just collapsed. John and a couple of other neighbors saw her go down, went to check on her, called an ambulance.”


“Yeah.” My wife looked at me. “She’s only a couple years older than you are.”


Jim Downey

*Yes, of course.


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