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December 24th, 1969, 11:30 p.m.
A nursing home in the Chicago suburbs
A nurse and her aide sit at the main station in the Timberlake Senior Center.
It's been a busy evening, with the extra rush of Christmas visitors coming
in, but now, as midnight approaches, all is quiet for a few minutes. The tiny
lights on the small tree sitting atop the counter blink off and on in a
familiar rhythm; much like the beating of a human heart.
But down the hall from them, just a couple of doors, one heart is beating in
an irregular rhythm. The end is near for Clem Wilson. Life is slowly ebbing
from his 79-year-old body.
"Poor Mr. Wilson," the nurse says to the aide. "It just seems kind of sad to
think of him dying on Christmas."
"Yeah," the aide agrees. "But you know, he does seem at peace with it. I
think he's ready to go."
The nurse nodded. "And he doesn't have any immediate family. Lots of nieces
and nephews, but no wife or children of his own. It's always hard on the
family, when it happens on the holidays." Both women walked down the hall to
sneak a peek at Wilson. For now, he seemed to be resting comfortably, after
the extra morphine his doctor had ordered. But before leaving, the doctor had
made it clear that it was only a matter of time.....
December 4th, 1896
The Wilson family home, Springfield, Illinois
Esther Wilson smiled down at her six year old son, Clement. He was excitedly
leafing through the Sears mail-order catalog. What wonders the modern world
had to offer! Almost anything that one could imagine could be brought right
to their home. Electric lights, the telephone...who knew what wonderful
things would come in the years ahead?
Mrs. Wilson snapped out of her daydreaming, and turned her attention back to
her son. "Do you see anything you would like Santa Claus to bring you for
Christmas, Clement?" she asked.
"Here, Momma," he said, holding the Wish Book toward her. He pointed to a
doll with a beautiful face, long brown hair, and a pretty white dress.
"Oh, no, Clement!" she said. "Dolls are for girls!" She quickly took the
catalog from her son's hands, and began looking for baseball equipment.
"Let's find something else for you."
Though distressed, Esther Wilson wasn't surprised to see her son ask for a
girl's toy. After all, she had kept him in dresses and his hair long until
just the year before. Yes, it was the fashion of the time, but something
about his delicate features and shy, gentle nature, made it seem especially
appropriate for young Clement.
Clem soon found himself smiling and nodding when his Mother suggested a new
baseball glove for him, instead. But that night, alone, in bed, he quietly
cried himself to sleep. Why couldn't he have the pretty doll he really
wanted? Because he was a boy? If that was the case, he prayed to God that he
would wake up a girl. He wanted to keep wearing girl's clothes, and playing
with girl's things. Most of all, he wanted to grow up to be a beautiful wife
and mother. Just like his own momma.
It was a prayer he was to offer up every night for the next 73 years......
November 7th, 1918
Near Verdun, France
Peace! Peace at last! The "war to end all wars" was almost over, and Clem
Wilson, 28-year-old corporal in the United States Army, settled down in his
foxhole and cried. The tears that flowed down his face were tears of relief,
tears of gratitude, tears of joy.
Relief that he had survived the incredible carnage that had ripped across
Europe; gratitude that he had been able to play his small part in the great
drama with courage; and joy that he would soon be going home. For someone who
had never felt comfortable in a man's body, life as a solider had been a
particular trial for Clem; but his parents had brought him up with a firm
sense of duty, and when his country called, he had answered to the best of
his ability.
In the midst of the death and devastation, Clem had been sustained by
memories and dreams. Memories of his sweet, beautiful mother; he still
pictured her as she was in his childhood years, the classic "Gibson Girl"
look; upswept hair atop her angelic face; a cameo brooch on her long,
graceful neck; a full blouse and floor-length skirt.
As the French night sky was lit up by the flash of bombs and echoed with the
cries and screams of the wounded, he would close his eyes, and think of that
beautiful feminine sweetness....and pray that he could somehow experience it
himself someday....
August 10, 1955
City Hall, Chicago, Illinois
The head of the city of Chicago's finance department heartily shook Clem
Wilson's hand, then presented him with the watch and certificate that went to
all long-service city retirees. "Thank you, sir," Wilson said quietly. As he
walked out of the big gray edifice for the last time as a city worker, Clem
ran his fingers through his thinning white hair.
He couldn't believe how quickly the years had passed! He had gone to work the
city as a bookkeeper in 1919, just a few months after getting home from the
war. Had 36 years really passed? Was it really time to retire? When he caught
a glimpse of his aged face reflected in a store's plate glass window, he had
to admit to himself that the answers had to be yes.
Clem had never married; the few people who were lucky enough to know him
well, recognized his kindness, his gentleness, his sense of humor, his caring
for his fellow human beings. He lived simply, almost frugally, in a small
apartment in the Loop; most of his free time he devoted to his nieces,
nephews and their children; or to his church.
Now, in retirement, he would finally afford himself the luxury of sleeping in
most mornings. He spent more time in Lincoln Park, watching the children play
and feeding the pigeons; or walking along the shores of Lake Michigan
thinking about what had been, and what he wished had been.
For Clem had never given up his dream, his fondest wish, which was to be
female; he was now resigned to the fact that it was not to be; but still,
part of him refused to give up hope. And even though an old man now stared
back at him from the mirror, in his dreams at night, he was a very young,
very feminine, very beautiful girl.
December 24, 1969
The same nursing home, a few minutes before Midnight
Clem Wilson, in his drug induced sleep, was dreaming of his childhood, and
his beloved mother; only in this dream, he was her daughter, instead of her
son. Once again, the century was new and full of promise and he was a young
girl, just getting ready to begin life in this big, wonderful world.
The nurse and the aide looked at Clem with increasing worry. "His breathing
is becoming more shallow, more labored," the aide said. "Yes," the nurse
agreed. "But at least he doesn't seem to be suffering. He really does look as
if he's at peace."
Clem's dream faded, and there appeared before him the most beautiful female
figure he had ever seen, even more lovely that his dear mother; when he saw
the gleaming wings sprouting from her back, he immediately realized what was
happening.
"You must be an angel!" he said.
"Yes, of course," she said, smiling sweetly.
"Am I dying? Already dead? On my way to Heaven yet, I hope?"
The angel reached out, and gently took Clem's hand in hers. Still smiling she
said, "The answers are, in one sense; no; and not yet. Let me explain,
please. Now, this body of yours is dying, but Clem, you know that the soul
never dies, but lives eternally."
"Of course," he said, feeling tears of joy beginning to well up in his eyes.
"Also, I can tell you that Heaven is your ultimate destination, but your time
on Earth is not yet finished."
Now Clem looked genuinely puzzled. "But it seems like this old body of mine
is worn out."
"It is," the angel agreed. "But we didn't want you to think that a lifetime
of heartfelt prayers would go unanswered. Tonight, Clem, you're going to be
reborn in a new body." The tears he had felt building up now came spilling
out onto his cheeks. "A female one?"
"Yes, Clem, a female one," the angel said. "You've been given a rare
blessing; but don't thank me; you've earned it."
At that moment, Clement Wilson drew his final breath.
"He went peacefully in his sleep," the nurse said. "About as good a death as
you could ask for."
December 25, 1969
Sacred Heart Hospital, Mount Olvetti, California
Nina Westerburg was surrounded by love; her husband Bob, her parents, Bob
parents; and now, the crowning glory, as the nurse brought into her hospital
room for the first time her newborn baby girl. The child had arrived just a
few hours earlier. As she held the tiny girl to her breast, and felt her
begin to suckle for the first time, Nina's heart was filled with an
indescribable sense of joy.
"Isn't she beautiful?" she asked. Every member of the Westerburg-Wilson clan
present agreed.
"What are you going to name her?" her father asked.
"Well," Nina said, "We've talked about this a lot. We finally decided to name
her in honor of my great uncle Clem.....I know it's kind of an old fashioned
name, but I think Clementine Westerburg sounds lovely! My darling, darling
Clementine!"
The baby cooed contentedly as she continued to nurse at her mother's breast.
August 8th, 2000
A cemetery in suburban Chicago
"I think it's over here, honey," Clementine Andrews told her husband. He
pulled the van over to a curb, and soon was following his wife to the grave
marker that sat over the final resting place of Clement Wilson. Rob Andrews
carried their six-month old daughter, Jessica, in a snugli on his chest.
Soon, mother, father and child were gathered at Clement Wilson's grave.
"Honey, thanks for indulging me, and coming here," Nina said.
"Sure," Rob affirmed. "I know you never met him; he was, what, your
great-great-uncle? But I know your mom named you after him, so he must have
been very important to her."
Rob wrapped a strong arm around his wife's shoulder. He gazed down at her
long, golden blonde hair; her sweet, delicate features; and thought he had to
be one of the luckiest guys alive.
"Oh," his wife said quietly, "Not only did my mom love him, but so did all my
aunts and uncles. They said e was so generous, so loving, so kind, so
sweet....."
Rob looked at his wife's face, which was bright with tears for a relative
that she had never met. "Sounds like you inherited more than just a name from
him, love." And they both closed their eyes, and their lips met in a long,
gentle, loving kiss.
Not The End, Just the Story Up 'Til Now
Elle
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