This morning my friend Carla left this comment on yesterday's blog entry. "That is my mother. The tiny photo is the one I scanned to be on my blog http://59andholding.blogspot.com/2006/11/moggie-loggin.html This was posted just a few days before she died. She is four or five in that picture. Her younger sister called her "Moggi Logan."
That solved the mystery of who Moggie Loggan is, but presented an even more puzzling mystery. How did the photo end up on my floor? Carla lives 3000 miles from me in Delaware. I haven't seen Carla for several years and she has never been in this house. As far as I know I have nothing that has ever belonged to Carla, like a book, from which the photo could have fallen.
To add to the coincidental nature of all this, we are planning to visit Carla and her husband Bill in Delaware next month and even more coincidentally, we just saw her daughter and grandson a few days ago when they were visiting Portland. This was all beginning to creep me out a little!
I had, of course, seen the picture on Carla's blog when she posted it nearly 3 years ago, but I had forgotten it, though I did have the sense that I had seen the picture somewhere before. She even mentioned the name "Moggie Loggan", her younger sister's mispronunciation of her real name, in her post. I had forgotten that too.
I remember Carla's Mom. I knew her when Carla and I were in college together. She was, in so many ways, like my own mother. They were of that same generation and had a similar kind of sense of humor as I recall. And like my Mom, a very loving, warm person. She died shortly after Carla posted the picture, back in 2006.
But how did that picture get here? Finally I remembered that several days ago we received a large envelope from Carla, containing information and brochures for things and places we might want to visit when we are in Delaware next month. I think perhaps the picture was inadvertantly scooped up with the other materials Carla placed in the envelope. Then when Ray opened the mail at his desk, the tiny photo fluttered, unnoticed, to the floor where I found it later.
I'll bring it back to you, Carla, when we come.
And here I thought the butler did it in the conservatory with the lead pipe... Go figure.
ReplyDeleteA wonderful story. I really was enjoying the mystery of it all.
ReplyDeleteThis could be a movie!
ReplyDeleteYou missed your calling as a writer. You kept us in suspense to the end! Wonderful little story.
ReplyDeleteSome people say, there is no such thing as coincidence; I disagree. Coincidence has to be there in order to let new things happen. But what happens between coincidence and planful action? Or do the ancestors have a hand in our lives? Sometimes I feel tempted to think so.
ReplyDeleteAfter my very dear Grandfather passed away, there were a lot of so called "coincidences" that comforted me, and let me feel his presence from the great beyond. I think things like this happen to comfort us, not to creep us out. It's nice to always remember with fondness those people who have touched our lives.
ReplyDeleteThere has to be an explanation for everything. I love it when mysteries are solved. It's a very cute picture.
ReplyDeleteI love this story. I read Part 1 last night, and woke up this morning with a IAD-DCA luggage tag glued to my navel. It must have fallen out of the Tom Spanbauer book I was reading in bed. Please tell me it's yours.
ReplyDeleteWhat a story Terry! A real page turner for me! I'm so glad you have solved your mystery.
ReplyDeletexo
I too, have a picture in my studio. It's 4 little girls that look like sisers, and I have no idea who they are. I look at them so much they seem like members of my family, and sometimes I dream up stories about their lives.
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Very Nice Blog
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