William Lyon Mackenzie King by lian goodall

Author:lian goodall [goodall, lian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781770706866
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Published: 2003-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Patteson Residence

Elgin St., Ottawa

December 24, 1933

King and Joan sat across from each other at a little table. Their hands were placed on its surface palms down, fingers touching lightly. The room was heavy with the smell of Christmas roses, but darkened so that the blooms could barely be discerned. A small light glowed, just enough to illuminate a notepad beside King.

Their fingers began to tap out letters. With his pencil stub, King transcribed Mother King.

“Mother,” King breathed. “It’s Mother.”

Mother King gave her love, and then Joan’s mother sent the same message. Father King soon appeared.

Father: Happy Christmas. Go to bed early. Eat less.

“Good advice!” King said.

“Quiet, Rex!” Joan commanded.

As the knocks began again, King wrote down each letter and “translated” the jumble into the answers to their questions. Since their minds had been opened to the possibilities of communication with those in the spirit world, he and Joan found that through the little table they themselves could have direct contact without going through a medium. Willies brother spoke now.

Max: Go to bed early. Let wine alone. Exercise more.

“Should I walk more?” King asked the shadows.

Yes.

“When?”

At night.

Now it was Joan’s turn to ask the spirit of Dr. Macdougall King a medical question. “Will Godfroy’s hand soon be better?”

Yes.

“Is it cancer?”

No.

The name Laurier was tapped out next.

Learn French. Have someone teach you.

“Does it mean another war?” King queried.

Yes.

“Do you know how soon?”

The spirits thought a war might come in the reign of Edward VIII. As King George V was currently on the throne, this caused Joan to ask if they had “knowledge of the future.” The answer was: Yes.

King’s heroes, the British prime minister Gladstone and his own rebel grandfather William Lyon Mackenzie, were among those who joined in the talk and gave political advice.

Gladstone: Strive valiantly.

Mackenzie Lyon: I will help you.

Blake: Go slowly dealing with Bennett.

Message from all: Keep up your courage.

They tapped until the spirits told them to go to bed late Christmas Eve.

Making his way home to Laurier House, King felt the cold of the night. He was aware that a record number of people on relief were suffering – one million in a country of nearly ten million. Many of these hungry men, King knew, were unhappy that Bennett had not kept his election promises of ending unemployment. They were desperately looking for answers outside of traditional political means and were turning to new theories and parties.

King too, was looking for answers in new ways, but to different questions. Preparing for bed, he thought of the Christmases at Woodside – the way he or Max or Father had dressed up as Santa. Perhaps thinking about them just now meant something. Perhaps he would see his father or Max in a vision while he slept.

Beside King’s bed, Pat stirred in his little basket. “I wonder if he’s dreaming of the Irish terrier on the Christmas card that Mrs. Wriedt sent?” King stretched out comfortably, feeling warm and blessed. “I must make a note to thank…”

Soon, both were snoring contentedly while soft shadows flitted about the room.

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