A Letter From Dad
A Real Ghostbusters Story
Egon looked down upon a small, yellow envelope that on top of the pile of bills. It looked solitary and alone, yet it had a quality to it that made him curious. What's more, it was addressed to him.
As he gave the bills to Ray, Egon opened the envelope. There were two letters inside; there was one small and one large one. He unfolded the small one first. It went:
"Dear Egon,
I know this may come as a shock to you, Spookums, but this is the letter your father had written just before he died. I found it going through his old stuff. It was used as a bookmark for one of his favorite books ("Moby Dick," Egon said). It was all stamped and ready to go, but he never got around to mailing it. You know how your father was. I did not read myself, feeling that this letter that was meant for you should be for your eyes only. I hope this letter will bring a peace between you and your father that you were never able to bridge while he was alive. I love you, Egon. Do not forget that.
Your mother,
Esther Spengler."
Egon reread the letter his mom had written him over again, just to get the grasp of it. His father was never a kind man. He had disagreed with many of Egon's decisions that he has made: taking up studying ghosts, eliminating ghosts, and trapping ghosts.
To his father, that was dragging the family name through the mud; every Spengler since the 1800's has been a serious scientist or was researchers of some kind. Egon's father was a biologist who studied marine life.
The rift between Egon and his father was terrible; when his father died six months ago, only Egon's brother, Elon, was there to represent the Spengler family. His mother was too hysterical to attend the funeral. Egon himself did not show up.
But now here was this letter. The last letter he had received from his father was back in 1984 after they had defeated Gozer the Gozerian. In it, his father was still criticizing him for taking up this "foolish" career, but was worried about Egon's safety.
Egon put the letter in his pocket, knowing he would wait till after everyone had gone to bed to read what his father had written him.
Egon's hand shook as he pulled the letter out from his pocket later that night. It was after midnight, and the whole Firehouse was dark.
Instead of turning on a light, Egon lit a lantern and put it on the side of his desk. From there he poured a glass of Old English Whiskey and sipped on it. With nervous hands, Egon carefully unfolded the letter his father had written him.
"Dear Son,
We may not have gotten along in the past because of our differences: you took up becoming a Ghostbuster, while I remained a marine biologist. Our differences lie in the paths we took to get where we are, and where we now stand. While you were getting recognition for the innovative science you brought forth with that nuclear accelerator of yours. What do you call them? Proton packs? I don't know. But I do know that what you do is scientific enough, despite the fact that your brilliant mind belongs in a laboratory like me. But I digress, we all make the decisions that shape our lives and I should have been more supportive of the one in you which you took. And I could see your point you made in our last conversation together many years ago: That because you wanted to devote your life to science was your decision, and that you would take all that comes from a decision like yours.
At this point, Egon had poured another glass of Old English and gulped it down quickly. He was actually supportive of me? He thought. A wave of memories came back to Egon. Memories that had long been buried with the violent arguments that come from our decisions.
After a third glass, Egon continued to read.
While we may have had our differences, Egon, I truly know what it means to have friends who are supportive of what you do. I spent my whole life in the laboratory without so much as making human contact outside of your mother and brother. Your friends Raymond Stantz, Peter Venkman, and Winston Zeddemore are always there for you. I had no friends when I had my lab accident that cost me the use of the left side of my body. Nobody was there to help me. Again, you chose your path and have followed through with it to the point where everywhere I go I hear your name being nicely associated with paranormal investigations and eliminations and that is good to hear. My time is almost up on this earth. I want to tell you the words that I was never able to do while you were younger. I love you son. That is all that really matters in this world.
Your father."
Egon put the letter down. It all seemed like a blur to him, but then it seemed like a pleasant ending to a nightmare.
He blew out the lantern and put the Old English back in Peter's cupboard. Climbing up the stairs, he reflected on all that he remembered about his father. And like his father said, it is because of our decisions that our destinies our made.
Feeling tired, he climbed into bed. But before he did, he pulled out an old-framed faded photograph that he had put in his drawer. He placed it on his bedside stand. It was of him, his father, his mother, and his younger brother when he was a baby.
With that, Egon went to sleep, a finally reaching what most of us ask for.
Peace of mind.
THE END.
A Real Ghostbusters Story
Egon looked down upon a small, yellow envelope that on top of the pile of bills. It looked solitary and alone, yet it had a quality to it that made him curious. What's more, it was addressed to him.
As he gave the bills to Ray, Egon opened the envelope. There were two letters inside; there was one small and one large one. He unfolded the small one first. It went:
"Dear Egon,
I know this may come as a shock to you, Spookums, but this is the letter your father had written just before he died. I found it going through his old stuff. It was used as a bookmark for one of his favorite books ("Moby Dick," Egon said). It was all stamped and ready to go, but he never got around to mailing it. You know how your father was. I did not read myself, feeling that this letter that was meant for you should be for your eyes only. I hope this letter will bring a peace between you and your father that you were never able to bridge while he was alive. I love you, Egon. Do not forget that.
Your mother,
Esther Spengler."
Egon reread the letter his mom had written him over again, just to get the grasp of it. His father was never a kind man. He had disagreed with many of Egon's decisions that he has made: taking up studying ghosts, eliminating ghosts, and trapping ghosts.
To his father, that was dragging the family name through the mud; every Spengler since the 1800's has been a serious scientist or was researchers of some kind. Egon's father was a biologist who studied marine life.
The rift between Egon and his father was terrible; when his father died six months ago, only Egon's brother, Elon, was there to represent the Spengler family. His mother was too hysterical to attend the funeral. Egon himself did not show up.
But now here was this letter. The last letter he had received from his father was back in 1984 after they had defeated Gozer the Gozerian. In it, his father was still criticizing him for taking up this "foolish" career, but was worried about Egon's safety.
Egon put the letter in his pocket, knowing he would wait till after everyone had gone to bed to read what his father had written him.
Egon's hand shook as he pulled the letter out from his pocket later that night. It was after midnight, and the whole Firehouse was dark.
Instead of turning on a light, Egon lit a lantern and put it on the side of his desk. From there he poured a glass of Old English Whiskey and sipped on it. With nervous hands, Egon carefully unfolded the letter his father had written him.
"Dear Son,
We may not have gotten along in the past because of our differences: you took up becoming a Ghostbuster, while I remained a marine biologist. Our differences lie in the paths we took to get where we are, and where we now stand. While you were getting recognition for the innovative science you brought forth with that nuclear accelerator of yours. What do you call them? Proton packs? I don't know. But I do know that what you do is scientific enough, despite the fact that your brilliant mind belongs in a laboratory like me. But I digress, we all make the decisions that shape our lives and I should have been more supportive of the one in you which you took. And I could see your point you made in our last conversation together many years ago: That because you wanted to devote your life to science was your decision, and that you would take all that comes from a decision like yours.
At this point, Egon had poured another glass of Old English and gulped it down quickly. He was actually supportive of me? He thought. A wave of memories came back to Egon. Memories that had long been buried with the violent arguments that come from our decisions.
After a third glass, Egon continued to read.
While we may have had our differences, Egon, I truly know what it means to have friends who are supportive of what you do. I spent my whole life in the laboratory without so much as making human contact outside of your mother and brother. Your friends Raymond Stantz, Peter Venkman, and Winston Zeddemore are always there for you. I had no friends when I had my lab accident that cost me the use of the left side of my body. Nobody was there to help me. Again, you chose your path and have followed through with it to the point where everywhere I go I hear your name being nicely associated with paranormal investigations and eliminations and that is good to hear. My time is almost up on this earth. I want to tell you the words that I was never able to do while you were younger. I love you son. That is all that really matters in this world.
Your father."
Egon put the letter down. It all seemed like a blur to him, but then it seemed like a pleasant ending to a nightmare.
He blew out the lantern and put the Old English back in Peter's cupboard. Climbing up the stairs, he reflected on all that he remembered about his father. And like his father said, it is because of our decisions that our destinies our made.
Feeling tired, he climbed into bed. But before he did, he pulled out an old-framed faded photograph that he had put in his drawer. He placed it on his bedside stand. It was of him, his father, his mother, and his younger brother when he was a baby.
With that, Egon went to sleep, a finally reaching what most of us ask for.
Peace of mind.
THE END.