The Book of Imaginings

Chapter 1

Thanksgiving 1880

The nickname "J.J." was sticking solid. Even his parents called him by that name, and it was the one he responded to the most. Jarrod felt a touch jealous that his son – Jarrod Jr. – was not going by his name, but then he imagined about 25 years into the future when "J.J. Barkley" - assuming he kept the moniker - was beginning his legal career, and he liked it. There was a dignity to it, and it gave his son a place of his own, not one tacked onto his father's name.

Jarrod wondered for a moment, as he watched his son sleeping in the crib Nick had made for him (he outgrew the cradle fast), if there really was a heaven above, and he would be watching from there when his son tried his first case in court. But then again, maybe J.J. would not want to be a lawyer, and who knew what opportunities would be available to him in 25 years anyway? The world was changing fast, and the change seemed to be speeding up. Jarrod wished he would be around to see a lot of it. He knew he wouldn't be, but one of the things he was most thankful for on this Thanksgiving Day was that his son would be around for them.

He wondered if he could imagine what changes J.J. would see. Born into a world where his parents were thrilled to have indoor plumbing and a comfortable buggy, J.J. would see incredible changes before the end of his life came, Jarrod knew that for sure. Jarrod liked to pretend he could foresee some of them. He liked to think that electricity would come even to the Barkley ranch before too long – somehow. He liked to think that the horseless carriages that some people were talking about would come before the turn of the century.

Then Jarrod thought more about the turn of the century and his imagination ran out of ideas about the world J.J. might grow into. Maybe it was because his imagination could not fathom what his senses told him might be coming, or maybe it was because he knew he would not be here to see things for himself.

Jarrod put it all aside. Whatever world his son grew up in, it was his job to make sure he got the right start so he would be able to face it. He didn't know how long he would be able to be with his son – he didn't even want to hazard a guess. He just wanted to be thankful that he was here now, that his wife and son were here now, and that in a few hours they would be with the rest of the growing Barkley clan at the mansion, eating and drinking and laughing.

Maggie came beside him as he stood there watching his son. "What are you day dreaming about, Counselor?"

"Everything," Jarrod said. "Just everything."

"What do you mean?"

"All the things that J.J. will see in his life that I can't even imagine. Do you realize, his life span could very well take him into the middle of the 20th century? What do you think life will be like for him?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't know what life will be like for him next week, much less when he's in his 70s."

Jarrod chuckled a little. "Just think about it, though. In San Francisco now there's a factory that makes electricity for people to use to light their homes. Just think about it – flip a switch and the light goes on. Flip it again and the light goes off. And think of all the things this could lead to – heating homes with electricity as well as lighting them, maybe cooking someday, maybe heating water so you can have hot water as fast as you can push the pump."

Maggie chuckled. "You sure are imaginative today."

"Well, it's Thanksgiving Day. I was thinking how grateful I was for J.J., and for you." Jarrod leaned over and kissed his wife. "I just started to think about what his life would be like. When he's a man – he may decide to have a career that doesn't even exist yet."

"We have to get him out of diapers first," Maggie said.

"That's not that far away. Think about it – before long he'll be climbing up into a saddle and riding off – but when he's a man in his 40s and 50s – will people even be traveling by horseback? Who's to say there won't be buggies that propel themselves and riding horses will just be for recreation? God, I wish I were going to live to see the world he'll grow up in."

Maggie took hold of Jarrod's arm, understanding finally what was driving his musings. "Are you feeling worse lately?"

"Fluid's building up again," Jarrod said. "My breathing gets noisy during the night sometimes and wakes me up."

"Have you talked to the doctor about it?"

"Not yet. I was waiting for the new year to come in."

"Maybe you should see him sooner."

Jarrod turned, looked at his wife's eyes, and drew her close to him. "I don't want to spend these holidays seeing doctors and trying new medications. I want to spend them loving my wife and my son. I want to spend them trying to envision the world my son will grow up in. Maybe that's the only way I can share it with him, by imagining it now."

"Does it make you happy to do that, or sad?"

Jarrod thought. "Both, I guess. It's kind of fun to think that when he's 70 years old and the year is 1950, he'll be able to travel from Washington to San Francisco in hours instead of days. That he might be able to pick up some contraption and talk to his children and grandchildren even if they're a hundred miles away, or maybe even halfway around the world. Just think about that, Maggie. Think of how his life might be then."

"I don't have quite the imagination you do," Maggie said. "Maybe you ought to take some time and write these things down. It would be fun to think that J.J. might have a book of these thoughts to read through when it really is 1950."

Jarrod looked at her again and smiled. "You are one smart lady, you know that?"

"Yeah," Maggie said. "I know that."

XXXXXXX

June 1950

He was nearly 70 years old, still in pretty good shape and able to take care of himself, but his wife had died a decade ago and he was living with his daughter and her husband in San Francisco. His main concern was that his eyesight was failing and it was getting harder to read the morning newspaper. And it was getting almost impossible to read his "Book of Imaginings."

That was what he father wrote on the first page, the title he gave the book of thoughts and pictures he was writing down to leave to him. J.J. Barkley did not remember his father at all – he had died when he was very small. What he knew of Jarrod Barkley Sr. was through stories his grandmother and aunts and uncles told him, and through the sparkle in his mother's eyes whenever he asked her to tell him again how his father would play with him on the floor and they would laugh out loud together. What really reached him though – what made him feel like his father was right here beside him, even now, was his father's "Book of Imaginings."

J.J. had hauled out that book so often throughout his life that he practically had it memorized – a good thing, since it was beginning to wear away from use - but there was still something about seeing his father's handwriting and drawings right there on the page that brought him into the room all these years after he had died. On a day in June in 1950, as J.J. sat in indirect sunlight that came into his bedroom on the north side of his daughter's home, he turned to that book again.

He opened to the first page, that ornate title page that read "Book of Imaginings" that his father had embellished with drawings of stars and comets, and he smiled as he did every time he opened it. J.J. remembered when his mother gave him the book. He was 12 years old and starting to tell her his own musings about his future. She brought the book to him with a big smile.

"Your father made this book for you," she said. "Right after you were born, he started to think about the life you might have and the world you might live in. He wanted to leave his dreams for you so that someday you could read them and see how they matched up to your life as it really happened."

When he was 12, J.J. wasn't wise enough to understand everything that his father had put into this book, but even then it was magical to him. Over the years, he understood more and more that it was himself that Jarrod Sr. had put on these pages. Now that he was 70 and he feared he would not be able to read these words much longer, J.J. Barkley began to read through the book one more time.