Forget 'cheese'.  Just say 'end of the world' . . .
The tale began to unfold when we arrived in New Glarus.  We stayed with Lars that night, and in the morning I helped him get his custom crotch-rocket motorcycle out for his first ride.  I felt a certain trepidation as I saw him start it up, feeling that it might be a bad day for a motorcycle ride.  But since I had nothing to support my feeling, I kept my mouth shut.  Soon after, Rebecca met with the makeup artist in order to get prepped for the movie-poster shots.  Sufficiently beautified, she went to meet Lars and the other lead male actor and the photo shoot went quite nicely.  Afterwards, we sat outside with Lars and talked.  He told us how he was going to his step-father's to help put up a fence around some native prairie plants his step-father was planting.  As discussions do with Lars, our conversation went deeper, and we ended up talking about death.  Lars was talking about his step-father, and noted that he thought his step-father would want to be buried out in that garden, and Lars went on to suggest that people should have 'funerals' when they are alive -- chances to really tell people how important they are to you, to share your gratefulness for family and friends, and to remember all the best moments in your life.  Of course, after such a 'funeral', the 'dead' person could go on appreciating and loving everyone!  Talking with Lars, we noted that we never know when death will come -- it can arrive totally unexpected. 

Rebecca and I left to Madison where we were going to stay at my brother Nathan's house.  Now I'm going to add some more details that may at first seem irrelevant, but you will soon understand why they are noted.

We went for a walk, and I pointed to a truck in a nearby driveway.  In bold letters, the truck stated the name of its owner -- Jack Mussey, State Farm Insurance.  "Every time I see that truck," I said to Rebecca, "I want to say . . . 'Wow!  Nathan!  You live next to Jack Mussey?'"  I'm not sure why this was going through my mind -- it's just something I've thought each time I've seen that truck.  As if Jack were a movie star or something.

A Canada Goose we met during our walk told us what it thinks of our theories regarding psychic phenomenon.

That night, I spent the evening reading Wild Trees, a book loaned to me by our new nature friends.  In it, a situation was described in which some of the characters were trapped in the top of a redwood for an entire night while a storm raged about them, rocking the tree.  The climbers debated attempting a descent, but came to the conclusion that it wasn't worth the risk -- not only would the climb down be dangerous, but during a storm it was probably more dangerous to be down below, where trees or high branches could fall and hit you.

We went to sleep, trying to get some rest before the big reading the next day.  In  the morning, we awoke to an email stating that the read-through was postponed.  It turned out that one of the lead actors had been in an accident.  An hour later we were in the hospital, looking down at Lars.

The evening before, while putting up the fence, the high winds had blown over a dead tree.  It struck him in the head on the way down, and he was rushed to the hospital where they had to immediately open his skull to drain the blood that was building up pressure against his brain.  In one moment, everything had changed.  All of our conversations about the unexpectedness of death and 'living funerals', as well as my feeling about Lars getting on his motorcycle, came rushing upon us.  The chapter I had read last night in Wild Trees had become a stark reality.  And even Jack was soon to enter the picture.  The good news is that Lars will be back on his feet fairly soon -- a full recovery is assured by the doctors.  But his life will be very different for a time.

Out in the hallway, Lars' step-father told us the story -- his memory of a swift, howling wind.  The sharp crack of wood splintering under its own weight.  Turning to see the tree crashing down toward Lars.  His shout to try to warn Lars of what was coming toward him.  "I've talked to our insurance agent, Jack Mussey . . ." he began, and Rebecca and I shot each other a quick look.  I wanted to shout out "My brother lives next to Jack Mussey!"  But it didn't seem appropriate to the conversation.  Note that Jack Mussey lives next to my brother in Madison, and Lars' step-father lives in a town about 40 miles away.  Odd that his insurance agent was the person I spoke to Rebecca about just the night before?

We counted four unusual coincidences.  My reading that episode in Wild Trees, our conversation with Lars regarding death and 'living funerals' (which actually contained more coincidences, but I've tried to keep things simple here), my feeling of ill when Lars was starting his motorcycle, and the truly strange one with Jack Mussey.  If I had given a more concise record of events, the number would actually be six or seven.

During moments like this, you get the feeling that life works via rules that we hardly comprehend.  For a moment, we're given a glimpse of the pattern underlying the seemingly random nature of life.  But then it blinks away, dismissed as coincidence, and we go on blindly groping our way through life until once again the veil is parted for a brief moment . . .

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