On a windy Saturday morning in late November, Tom walked down Morningstar Road amidst the fluttering yellow and red leaves borne by the shifting wind currents. Clad in a light jacket, the skinny young science teacher could feel the chilly autumn air, which was a sign of the approaching winter. Drawn to the rotting docks and abandoned ships of the old Bethlehem Steel shipyard, Tom headed west on Richmond Terrace. As soon as the ramshackle tugboat came into view, Tom saw Amon wave at him. Amon jumped off the boat and approached him on the rotting wharf.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he shouted to the young teacher. Tom nodded, and the two men walked briskly eastward on Richmond Terrace, passing under the arched Bayonne Bridge. This magnificent steel bridge was matched only by a bridge of similar design in the land down under, Australia.
As the two young men walked beyond the bridge, they came to an overgrown, weed-filled field with a dirt road that was familiar to Tom. They soon reached a dilapidated wooden shack where a red-bearded hermit had once lived. Stopping abruptly outside the shack, Amon said he felt a strange aura, the spirit of dead person.
“He was a recluse who died alone and in despair. May his tormented soul rest in peace,” Amon uttered in a low tone.
Tom was amazed that the stranger’s perception defied rational explanation.
“That’s right! In fact, I was the one who discovered his body a few years ago. He was a red-bearded hermit—kind of scary-looking. As a teenager I once delivered a newspaper to him. But when I came back to collect my money, the sight of his face frightened me, and I ran away.”
Running his finger along the dust-laden windowsill, Tom asked, “How did you know about the hermit?”
“It’s something I’ve always had. I am able to pick up vibrations that most people miss. It’s metaphysics—the realm of reality beyond the five senses,” Amon answered in a matter-of-fact manner.
“I’m a science teacher. Scientists deal with real phenomena—matter and energy—susceptible to the five senses and measurable in terms of numbers. It’s weird. I gave a lesson on superstition the other day,” Tom said.
“There’s a good deal of truth in superstition, which is based on folklore passed down through the ages. And there are no coincidences in life. Everything happens for a reason,” Amon continued.
“What about random events like flipping a coin or tossing dice?” Tom asked.
“You’ve heard of gamblers who constantly win at cards and games of chance. It’s a gift that some people have—myself not included,” Amon replied.
“You seem to be a determinist like the Dutch philosopher Spinoza. We talked about him also. Now that’s a coincidence for sure!” the young teacher said.
“I’ve always had this hypersensitivity to things, similar to animals before an earthquake. We all have a purpose in life. The trick is to find out what it is and try to fulfill that purpose,” Amon asserted.
“So what’s your purpose?” Tom inquired.
“That’s a good question!” Amon replied, shaking his head.