I readjusted myself on the seat looking for a comfortable position while Captain drove leaning over to adjust the bluegrass station on the radio.    Miles and miles of road passed by.   Somehow,  instead of heading to Haiti on our sailboat, I was in a rent-a-car  heading to Texas…

“It happened at a prayer meeting just last week…”  shared the Captain, with all the time in the world to tell the story in  full detail.   “…someone felt led to pray over me and anoint me with oil on behalf of my daughter.   She has been missing for about three years…”  

Apparently, his daughter’s children had been placed in the custody of Captain  and his wife, some three years back, due to the father’s violent behavior.   In a passionate desperation that may best be understood by moms, Captain’s daughter “kidnapped” her own children and disappeared, not to be seen or heard from again.   Now suddenly, days after a small Holiness Baptist congregation began praying over and anointing Captain Raymond in her stead, she reappeared in Mexico.

“Dad, I don’t care what happens to me,  please help me.   I’m very sick… I want to come home!”  The Captain shared her  words with tears in his eyes.

As it were, the moment she appeared at the US border, she was immediatly taken into custody.   When they realized she was very sick, they placed her in solitary confinement, concerned that her illness may be contagious.   There she was, alone waiting for a date to be extradited to a Florida jail and again wait for a court date to stand trial.  Other than coming to encourage her, I was not sure what else we were there for.

We finally arrived.   There was a tall fence with razor wire wrapped above it.   We drove slowly past a tall tower where armed guards watched us pull in to an uninviting parking lot.    Inside, we walked past many people who were waiting hopelessly for a small moment of time to speak with a loved one on the inside.   At the end of an endless waiting room sat a guard with a blank unfriendly stare behind a thick bullet proof glass wall.   Captain handed him a sheet of paper through a slot.  The guard frowned with a perplexed look.   He then got up and showed it to several other guards, who appeared just as perplexed… 

“I’ve never seen anything like this…”  Said one of the guards as he scratched his head staring at the sheet of paper.   This guard appeared higher in rank to the others.   

“What is this?…” He asked while holding up the paper in his hand.

“If you will read it over, it will be self explanatory…” Assured the Captain with a soft, yet confident tone.

“I know what it says!…” Replied the frustrated guard,  “…Where did you get this?!…”

“Sir, if you will just look at that there bottom… it is signed…” Pointed out the Captain.

Shaking his head the guard walked off with the paper, disappearing behind a large scratched metal door.  

We waited for several long hours, and none of the other guards responded when the Captain asked for an update, other then instructing him to sit and wait.  

Finally, the battery on my phone died, right in the middle of a very important soccer game, where I was beating Brazil by two goals with ten minutes left to play…  Frustrated, bored, and hot, I excused myself and went outside for a walk.   Frustrated, board, hot, and full of mosquito bites, I returned to the waiting room some time later.

The big scratched metal door eventually reopened and the high raking guard returned with the piece of paper.  “Yah, It’s legitimate…” He mumbled to the other guards…

To be continued

We walked inside and I couldn’t believe my eyes. Before me was the largest and most elaborate metal work shop I had ever seen. Shelves stocked to the ceiling with all types of metals, metal lathes, torches, rig welders, high-pressure metal presses, and other heavy tools I have no idea what to even call. One of these tools had the ability to punch squares or round holes through any thickness of metal with one touch of a button.

“You know why I got this machine?” Asked the man as he demonstrated by punching a hole through a thick piece of metal. “Because drilling holes through metal is a boring job… Ha ha ha ha…” He laughed without the slightest concern that he had forgotten to put on his teeth for the day.

This was Doug Black, a true old school master of metal work. Doug brought out a dusty old album and proceeded to show me many pictures of his creations. Back in his day, Doug specialized in designing spiral stair cases. He was also a pioneer in mountain climbing rescue , and was instrumental in the design of climbing hardware now widely used.

I was amazed. Not only did he do incredible work but he even invented and designed tools to facilitate and install his beautiful artwork. Although it was clear that Doug was battling with dementia or perhaps Alzheimer’s, in his element, Doug’s mind was beautiful and sharp, and his memory was perfect.

From that day on, we became friends. Then we became friends again the next day, and the following as well… I laughed at the “screw and paper clip” joke each time he told it, as if it was the first time I heard it.

Eventually, all the elaborate metalwork I needed done was complete, but far more important then that, I made a wonderful new friend.

It makes me wonder: Can anyone ever be fairly judged?…

When Passover came, we invited Doug and his wife, along with several other friends to come celebrate with us on Aleph Tav.

Doug could not remember what the celebration was, but every day after, he would say: “Hey, that thing we did the other night on that guys boat… wow… that was the greatest thing I have ever done. I will never forget it…”

As the days passed, we neared our departure date with great anticipation and excitement.

“Rabbi!!! It’s My daughter!!!” Called Captain on the phone; his voice sounded concerned and excited, “My daughter has been found!!! Praise Adanaya! We have to go to Texas right away…”

To be continued