My Ghost Arrived in a Taxi

My Ghost Arrived In A Taxi

(A True Story)


If you don’t believe in ghosts—well, too bad. They do exist you know. Let me tell you about my ghost arriving in broad daylight in a taxi. Ghosts don’t generally make their presence known in that manner. I was standing at the hospital’s entrance waiting for a taxicab when one pulled up to the curb in front of me. I didn’t recognize him, for what he was at first, when I looked through the passenger window and saw a small, bent old man.


I opened the rear door figuring I would be of some assistance in helping him to get out. “Can I give you a hand?” I called into the taxi.


“No! I can manage by myself.” he replied, using his cane to slowly push himself out of the cab to what, for him, was standing. “I was a P-47 fighter pilot 72 years ago.” he exclaimed, implying I suppose, that a World War II, P-47 fighter pilot from 72 years past would hardly need assistance in exiting from a taxicab.


At that moment I knew who he was. My ghost! I watched him, dumbstruck, as he hobbled away and disappeared inside the hospital. 72 years ago I desperately wanted to be him, a World War II fighter pilot. The problem was that in early 1943 I was not yet 15 years old, too young to realize my dream. My ghost, that bent old man, had to have been 22 or 23 years old then and now at least 94 years old, perhaps 95 or 96. I am a mere 87 years old.


P-47 and pilots early to mid 1943


Was my ghost one of the young fighter pilots pictured standing in front of the P-47 fighter-bomber? Just for a brief moment I let my imagination transform me into on of those young fighter pilot 72 years in the past.


They are gone now, my ghost and my reawakened dream. All those yesterdays can never be more than a fleeting impression, leaving a few moments of memories past.


Bob Flicker



 © robert 2014