“Hi Chester Field. What is your life all about?”
“My life today God, if that is honestly you, is one of simplicity. I have learned to live in the moment. That
is to live my life one day at a time.”
“I see Mr. Field. Do you believe that this is God speaking?”
“No, I am not sure. However, I have come a long way in my recovery of alcoholism and of playing God. I
am today reading another book from the library, “Mysterious Powers” by Colin Wilson. This is one of many
books I have read in the past year to determine if not there is a God running this show on earth.”
“Well, I hear you Chester. Your answer should be forthcoming.”
A braking of tires, the crash of metal on impact outside the open window, wakes Chester from a
deep sleep. He shakes his bald head in wonder of the realism of his latest dream. Stretch out upon
his brown lazy-boy recliner, he closes the book lying on his lap and places it on the end table. Pulling
up on the side handle to release the foot rest down on the chair, he swivels the chair around to stare
out the window at the intersection where two cars have collided in a minor fender bender.
“One of these days,” he speaks out the open window. “They will place a stop and go light at this
intersection. Too many darn accidents occur here.”
Chester turns the chair around and stares at the ticking Westclox on the television showing three o’
clock in the afternoon.
“Wow, another two hour nap. Just what the good doctor ordered,” he laughs to himself, sitting back
in the chair. He starts to think of the latest dream and his talk with God.
“What a life I am living today,” he talks to the wood paneled walls that surround him. “Hell, my life of
simplicity prevents me from owning a vehicle. How about those marbles?” he chuckles to himself,
rubbing his bald head.
At age 62, Chester is living on VA pension disability, collecting $910 a month in benefits. He rents a
three room lower home-apartment in the middle of town.
He stoops up upon his feet to let life flow back into his swollen legs. He limps to the front door to
retrieve his mail from the red, white and blue mailbox attached to the green-sided two-story home.
He returns with three envelopes and sits on the gold covered couch.
“What the hell! No check! For crying out loud. This is Saturday, and Monday is Labor Day. Jesus
Christ, I’m down to my last dime and I need more food and pop.”
In disgust, Chester tosses the three envelopes upon the coffee table and slouches on the couch.
He stares up at the sky blue ceiling and eyes the several cracks that run from wall to wall of this old
house. He starts to laugh at the thought that he really can’t get mad, nor, does he ever get
depressed since his last bout with alcohol one year ago. Thanks to the VAMC, he has been taking, on
a daily basis, 100MG of Zoloft. He has learned to keep his inner emotions on an even keel.
Chester gets up on his feet and limps forward through the dining room into the kitchen of pink walls
and white stained ceiling. He opens the refrigerator to eye four cans of diet Pepsi left. He pulls one
out with a pot of left over beef vegetable soup.
As the soup heats up on the stove, Chester sits at the kitchen table thinking about his talk with God
in his dream. Did he not state something about forth-coming? I wonder what that was all about? Hell,
with all the reading I have been doing these past months, I believe I’m starting to understand the workings
of a Higher Power, or a God. This latest book I am reading is based on some unbelievable occurrences in
real life. It is hard to believe that only a handful of people in this world have experienced such
phenomenal happenings covering centuries. Is it because people in this world deny believing? To believe
in a God or something? I know that I for one never had any faith.
Finishing with soup and salted crackers, Chester limps to the back porch and exits the back door
out for fresh air. He proceeds to the wooded chair next to the huge Maple tree in the back yard. He
sits for a short time in the shade observing the many birds and squirrels while listening to the sounds
of traffic pouring back and forth out front.
On returning inside, Chester limps back to the living room with a fresh can of pop to continue his
reading of mysterious powers in his lazy-boy recliner. The Westclox reads six o’clock.
Chester lives alone with few friends and no family to call his own. His life of simplicity involves
walking two blocks to the county library and taking out books to read. Having quit boozing and sitting
in the neighborhood tavern all day, Chester in the past year has read over a hundred books,
researching the psychology of his mind. He has enjoyed the works of William James and Norman
Vincent Peale. He also has been locked into reading the works of some of the great American authors,
with his favorite being Jack London.
Chester Field is truly content with his life today. “Hell,” he states to people he does encounter at
the library, bank, post office, and the grocery store. “I’m living on borrowed time. I should have been
dead a year ago.”
His body, ravaged with osteoarthritis and other complications, and thanks being a veteran of the
Viet Nam conflict, all his medical needs are resolved at no cost by the VAMC.
Hours have passed as Chester comes to the end of the reading about powers greater than himself.
He lays the book upon the end table, observing the Westclox read eleven o’clock. He sits in the
quietness of his apartment, listening to the sounds of sporadic traffic buzzing up and down the street.
What have I learned from this book? That some people of this world have stated incredible stories about
Gods and powers. Chester can only shake his bald head in disbelief.
Chester rises to his feet. He limps to the kitchen and takes out another can of diet Pepsi from the
refrigerator. He enters the enclosed back porch and slips on a light blue jacket and his favorite
Detroit Tiger baseball cap. He exits the back door to the darkness of the night. He sits down on the
steps and snaps open the pop. He sits for a spell and decides to take a short walk.
Chester finds himself entering the city park three blocks from home. As he sits on a park bench at
midnight, his thoughts range out to the heavens above. A half moon and cluster of twinkling stars are
all he can see, surrounded by a great mass of blackness. Chester imagines the mysterious power that
exists outside of him.
Might it not be true that I am being controlled or influenced by some spiritual force? Another
intelligence on a completely different level from the physical forces around me, which is in complete
At this very moment, Chester realizes that a turning point may indeed have arrived in his life as he
sits on this park bench starring out at the great unknown. He envisions, feels, and smells the beauty
and serenity of living in this day and age. As he approaches the age of 63, he knows that he has been
nothing short of a total wreck in surviving. His life up to a year ago had been a trip through hell as he
grasped the will to rule. Why had I been so stubborn with my life and not let go? Did I not do a poor job
of living my life? He scratches the two day old scrubby beard upon his face. Is it not because I was
determined in playing God all these years, controlling my own will?
The realization has come, as a slap in the face, Chester knowing that he was not the God that he
once thought he was. It is fitting, as he crosses his right leg over his left, that the mysterious power,
or whatever, that is out there beyond the great unknown has complete control of his every move as
the clock ticks onward with time.
This linkage with a new belief of a power greater than himself, and the night coolness of the fresh
air encircling his body, uplifts Chester’s spirits to a new plateau of feeling like a million dollars without
the actual money.
Switching his dark brown eyes from above, Chester glances down to the ground at his foot and
notices a ten dollar bill. “Where did this come from?” he yells out loud, uncrossing his legs and
stooping over. “I’m certain that it was not here when I sat down on this park bench.” Chester
reaches down with his right hand picking up the ten dollar greenback. He looks around, eyeing the
darkness of the night and being alone in the park. He then examines both sides of the bill. “My God,”
he yells to the stillness of the air, realizing that this bill is real. He cracks a huge smile upon his face
showing missing teeth, stuffing the bill into a pocket of his jeans.
I’m sure glad that I chose this here park bench to sit down at to rest my aching legs. Now I’ll be able to
do some shopping tomorrow. Instantly another thought flashes across his mind. Did I choose? Or, was I
not lead here to sit at this park bench amongst many by a mysterious power of, of God?
Chester turns his head to look at the small green leaves of the nearby drooping Willow tree. With
the light from the street corner, he can see that the leaves stand stationary. No breeze could have
blown the ten dollar bill to his feet. He removes his Tiger cap and starts rubbing his bald head,
shaking same to the mystery of it all.
Is it not likely that a mysterious power of God has indeed had something to do with this ten dollar
greenback I found at my feet? And what about my talk with God in my dream earlier today? Did not he
state something forthcoming?
Chester now believes that this mysterious power of God is responsible for his selection of this park
bench, where he sat down to rest his weary legs of walking three city blocks. To elaborate more into
this matter, Chester believes that the mysterious power of God had something to do with him taking
this walk to the park, to sit at this park bench and stare up to the heavens above; then presenting him
with this greenback gift.
Baffling as it may seem, Chester is thrilled of discovery of a mysterious power of God to control his
every move throughout each beautiful moment of this day and age. He knows that the sign of belief
in God has presented itself.
Chester rises to his feet to proceed with his walk back home.