Josh: Home Is Where The _____ Is

After sleeping all day, Mary and I decided to go out and grab some grub. It's always difficult waking up at five in the evening and knowing what to order. Breakfast? Some lunch/dinner Frankensteinian amalgam? Grain alcohol? Puzzler.

On the way out we asked the desk clerk (same one as this morning. Working a double, apparently) where a decent place to get a bite to eat was. She directed us to a local steakhouse and on my way out something my uncle wrote popped into my head about other people's comments or thoughts. Just to test a theory I asked her, "So, you really like Die Hard, huh?"

The clerk stared at me quizzically, smiled the customer service smile and gave a little shrug. I pressed. "Die Hard, remember? I'm the guy who gave you ten bucks because you knew who Alan Rickman was?"

The woman squinted at me, cocked her head like a dog being punished with a whistle and asked, "Who?"

Mary and I exchanged looks, and I muttered, "I heart getting the hell out of here."

We ate heartily (at left) or at least I did. I was going to go with the steak and shrimp but then the shrimp's legs reminded me of centipedes and I changed my order. After dinner Mary and I just sat back, digested and talked about her ex-husband; or rather I asked questions and she smiled and daintily rearranged her napkin.

It wasn't until we got back to the hotel that my uncle's suicide really hit me. I was taking a shower (my third today. Between the centipedes crawling and the bites and the heebie-jeebies I was pretty much taking them every hour on the hour) and I remembered the first time I met him when I was nineteen. He smiled at me with such total affection and warmth, and he reminded me of my Dad: so quick to smile, laugh and dream. I didn't ask where he had been up until then. He lived in Belgium so it wasn't like he could have been expected to just pop in, and besides from the moment he came through the door until the time he finally left he would just lavish us with nonstop gifts and devotion to such a degree that I think we would have felt ungrateful and shallow asking too many questions.

That said, there always was a moodiness about him. I remember more than once during his visits that I would wake up in the middle of the night to find him stalking around in the dark talking to himself and swilling wine at an astounding rate. Whenever he would notice me peering over at him his entire demeanor would change and he'd light up, assure me that everything was fine and usher me back to bed, but once back in my room I'd hear his footsteps continue to march restlessly up and down the carpet until I fell asleep.

I've been trying to remember back from the first I met him to the last time I saw him back in January, attempting to determine if he had truly appeared to age in that span. The memory plays tricks. To me was always just old- elderly but spry and never at a loss for energy.

Was he insane? Was he somehow actually King Leopold the First of Belgium? Was he both? If he actually was who he thought he was, that would have made him well over two hundred years old, something that would be absolutely impossible, just like the two or three other impossible things I've experienced over the last week or so.

Whatever happened between him and my father, I have to forgive him, even if he couldn't forgive himself. He may have placed my Dad in danger, but I have to believe he did it out of utter desperation and probably madness, not out of any maliciousness. Whether he was my uncle or he really was my great, great, great, great grandfather doesn't matter in the end. I loved him and love him still, not because of who he was or what he did but because while the rest of his life may have been a lie I know that he truly loved me unconditionally. That's enough, I suppose.

Cyntha: Insania

I have been loathe to introduce a facet of my own existence to this journal of events as I was not only highly skeptical of its relevance but also was reluctant to expose what I perceived as psychological instability at best and utter madness at worst. Understand that while on these specific points obviously my opinion is open to scrutiny or even ridicule, but overall my psyche is intact, my mind is sound and my will endures. Based on the night's events and the undeniable fact that there are phenomena occurring beyond our capacity to comprehend, I can no longer justify withholding recent personal experiences despite the wound to pride or ego.

Two instances in your post on the most recent encounter with Mr. Hollis struck me as being relevant to some unnerving shifts in my memory. Firstly, the song he was whistling, and secondly his virtually incomprehensible screed on slavery, where he proclaimed:

"Why be beholden to the history of the industry when history could not have less meaning?"

This struck a chord with me, as I have been having tremendous difficulty of late with two separate dates in world events. Understand, throughout my entire classical education, the study of history was stressed most highly, and specifically on the timeline of world events. More modern teaching methods deemphasizing the committing of dates to memory have been put in play in recent years in the field of history, but in my formative years the stress was placed on memorization rather than the recounting of anecdotes. As Joshua can attest, my retention of information on this subject has been beyond reproach, at least until now.

If you remember back to the unfortunate interrogation of Miss Stroud, where I questioned her at some great length regarding history and world events, I was seeking to discover if a "layperson", if you will, would be confounded in a similar way with either the happenings I was concerned with or others I had not yet uncovered. She was not. Miss Stroud's thoughts were clear and her recollections accurate, at least as far as the reference material could verify.

The problem is- from my admittedly limited perspective- is that the reference material is wrong. Every online resource, every encyclopedia, every book on the subject says that Genghis Khan began his conquest of Asia in 1206 A.D. He did not. This is one of the most important dates in world history, and one that shaped the modern East as we know it. It is not I date I would ever forget. Temuchin took the title of Khan and begin his subjugation of the Eastern world in the year 1207 A.D.

Similarly, another date is incorrect, this one even more relevant to the modern world. The French Emperor Napoleon's domination of Europe rolled unabated until his eventual downfall at the hands of the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo. As any avid student of the past well knows, his defeat occurred in the year 1818 A.D., yet even cursory research into the matter reveals that every compendium of historical data nonsensically reveals the date of the Emperor's defeat to be 1815 A.D. Go now- if you doubt it- look it up and you will see the incorrect date on every web site; on every page of every tome regarded as the standards for historical fact.

I cannot comprehend how or why this was done, but cannot believe that Mr. Hollis' casual references were entirely coincidental to these events. I also am incapable of fathoming what possible use this information I've shared could have, but seeing as how even some of the most trivial matters have ballooned into larger developments, I felt I had to unburden myself. Also, though the thought is utterly terrifying to me, there is the distinct possibility that I am going mad. I have suffered the loss of both my husband and, essentially, myself. I understand that in such cases dementia can set in, and since my mind is all I have left obviously even the slightest chance that I may lose that as well is wholly agonizing.

I confided these thoughts to Jeffrey at the time I was having them, and he assures me that with the exception of the shifting dates he finds nothing else out of order as concerns my mental health. He has also assisted me in scouring the pages of history for other anomalies, and thus far we have found none. He assures me that should my thoughts or behaviour grow erratic that he will not hold back, communicating to me at once any issues.

Again, I cannot imagine what possible use this revelation could be to you, but as I began this endeavor and wish to see it continued to whatever end, I felt an obligation to report it.