“Namesake”

by Heather Aster

4/11/05

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Harm stepped out into the hall and headed for the hospital cafeteria with beautiful images of his tired wife and newborn son carrying him along as if he were floating on a cloud.  He was wondering if it was possible to be happier when he heard a familiar voice.

 

“Harm!”

 

Harm spun to embrace his old friend.  “Tom!” 

 

“Congratulations, Harm.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“So, when do I get to meet the newest thorn in the Navy’s side?”

 

“In a little while.  Mac’s nursing him right now.  Come grab a cup of coffee with me in the cafeteria.”

 

“I’ll buy.”

 

“I’m so glad you could make it.  I didn’t know if you’d get my message or not.”

 

“All these newfangled gadgets keep me informed even when I don’t want to be.  In this case, I was happy to have a reason not to play golf with Admiral Kly.”

 

Harm laughed.

 

“So are mother and baby healthy and happy?”

 

“The doctors say healthy, but Mac wasn’t too happy during delivery last night.”

 

“Oh, no?”

 

“The baby was breach.”

 

“Giving you trouble already?”

 

“So it would seem.”

 

“C-section?”

 

“No, they turned him.  Definitely not a happy moment.”

 

The CAG grimaced.  “Don’t say any more.”

 

Tom paid for their coffees, and they found a seat on the cafeteria’s patio in the warm May sunshine.  The older man tilted his face up to the sun and leaned back in his chair to soak it in.

 

“You scared, Harm?”

 

“Hell, yeah.”

 

“Do you know what about?”

 

“Not knowing what I’ll need to know at the right time.  Not having as much experience to look back on for guidance.  I don’t remember much about being a son.”

 

“You’re going to be a great father, Harm.  It’s in your blood.”

 

Harm thought for a moment.  “You know, Tom, when I fly, I can hear my dad in my head giving me advice.  When I walk through a ship, I can hear him explaining everything.  Even when I’m in court, I hear him sometimes, encouraging me, cheering me on.  It’s all because of those tapes.  But I don’t hear anything now.”

 

“Maybe this’ll help.”  The CAG pulled a battered envelope from his pocket and handed it to Harm.  Harm’s eyes widened when he recognized the handwriting on the envelope, knowing instinctively what must be inside.

 

Taking the small package from his friend, he held it for a moment to let the memories wash gently over him.  With careful fingers and loving touch, Harm opened the envelope and pulled out a letter wrapped around a tape.  The label on the tape read: “Harm – Advice – New Father”.  It was dated December 22^nd, 1969.  Harm gulped and tried to brush away the tears, but they wouldn’t stop.  Sadness and joy tumbled together in his heart, but a deep joy won out, and a smile finally found it’s way to the surface.

 

“Read the letter,” Tom encouraged softly.

 

Harm unfolded the page covered with his dad’s strong and simple script, much like his own, then cleared his throat and began to read aloud. 

 

“Dear Harm,

If you’re reading this letter then you’ve recently become a father – Congratulations to you and your wife, and a big Welcome to my grandchild.

I’ve asked Tom to hold onto this tape until you needed it.  He assured me I would be delivering the advice in person, but a pilot in this war can’t be too careful.  I’ve only had six years of experience being a father, but I learned a lot from your grandparents and wanted to pass down all the Rabb traditions to you.

If I’m not with you in person at this wonderful time in your life, then know I’m with you in spirit, watching, praying and loving you always.

Love, Dad

p.s. Save me a cigar.”

 

Harm’s voice broke at the very end as the tears flowed afresh.  Glancing at Tom, he saw the older man wipe his own eyes before looking Harm’s way.  They smiled at each other, each cherishing his own set of memories.

 

Harm looked at the tape and rubbed it gently with his thumb, the plastic parts inside clicking with gentle familiarity.  The final piece for his collection was now in his possession, and he couldn’t wait to listen to it.

 

“I suppose you’ll listen to it as soon as you get home.” 

 

Harm smiled at the shared train of thought.  “Yeah.  I’ll probably bring a player back tonight so Mac can listen, too.”

 

“You might want to do a little editing first.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I’ve heard about some of those ‘Rabb traditions’.  Your wife may not see the humor in the instructions about how to write your name in the snow, if you know what I mean.”

 

Harm laughed.  “That’s on the tape?”

 

“Not sure.  I was instructed not to listen to it.”

 

“Probably because my dad warns me not to let you do any of the ‘instructing’.”

 

“Who me?  I’m a retired Admiral – an upstanding member of the community.  I’ve been instructing young people for most of the last 30 years.”

 

“Fine, you are allowed to teach my son how to paint a bogie, but that’s it.  No snow-writing.”

 

The two men laughed, and Tom turned his face back toward the sun.

 

“So, what did you name him?”

 

“Thomas Harmon.”

 

The CAG spun in his chair to look at Harm.  “Thomas?” he said pointing at himself.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, now,” Tom said settling back into his sun worshipping position.  “Then I suppose I’m required to teach him snow-writing.  And alphabet-burping.  And a few other things.”

 

“We’ll see,” said Harm, looking at his watch.  “Want to go upstairs now?”

 

“I’d love to.”

 

The two made their way back to the mother-baby wing, catching up about work, the Washington Nationals, and airplanes.

 

Harm pushed the door open slowly and peeked into the room while Tom waited outside. 

 

“Mac,” he whispered.

 

“Hey,” she smiled, turning toward him.

 

“Were you sleeping?”

 

“No, just resting.”

 

“That’s good.”  They both turned to look at their little miracle sleeping peacefully in his rolling bassinet next to the bed. 

 

“We have company,” Harm told her.

 

“Who?”  Mac started running her fingers through her hair and checking to make sure her robe was providing proper coverage.

 

“You’ll see,” Harm said going to the door and beckoning to their guest.

 

Mac smiled when she saw Tom Boone, and reached out to accept his hug.

 

“You look wonderful, Mac.  Congratulations.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Harm carefully gathered up his son from the bassinet and brought him around for Tom to see.

 

Tom smiled at the sleepy baby.  “Thank goodness my namesake is handsome.”

 

“Here,” Harm said, indicating for Tom to take the baby.

 

Tom looked at Harm and then the baby, hesitating a moment before reaching out for the tiny bundle.  Cuddling the child next to his chest, tears welled up in his eyes and spilled onto his cheeks.

 

“You okay?”  Harm said softly.

 

“Yeah.  Just a little déjà vu.”

 

The three of them shared wistful smiles.

 

“Tom brought this,” Harm said to Mac as he pulled the envelope from his pocket and sat down on the bed.

 

Peering inside it Mac was stunned, knowing what this meant to Harm.  She looked at him with wide-eyed wonder.

 

“Go ahead.  Read the letter.”

 

Mac unfolded it and read it silently to herself, sniffling back her own tears.  “This is wonderful, Harm.”

 

“I’ll bring a player back later, and we can listen to it together.”

 

“I can’t wait.”

 

“Okay, who wants him?” Tom asked as the baby started to squirm and complain.

 

“He’s probably just making you a little present, Tom,” Mac said with a wink.

 

“You two are laughing now,” Tom grumbled and handed the baby to Mac who had stood up to change him in his bassinet.  “Wait until you start getting these ‘presents’ in the middle of the night.”

 

The three talked for a while longer until little Tommy decided he was hungry again.  The CAG bid his farewells and another round of congratulations before walking out into hallway with Harm.

 

“Your mother doesn’t know about that tape, Harm.”

 

“Do you think I should tell her?”

 

“That’s up to you.  Listen to it first.”

 

“Will we see you again soon?”

 

“I’ll call you.  I plan on keeping a close eye on my namesake.”

 

“Which reminds me.  Mac and I want to adopt you as Tommy’s ‘grandfather’.”

 

Tom paused a beat, the family bond he felt for Harm swelling in his heart with the addition of little Tommy.  “You’d better,” the older man said.  “Someone’s gotta help that boy grow up properly.”  His signature crusty voice cracked with joy and pride.

 

“Thanks again for coming,” Harm said, and the two embraced before Tom turned and walked toward the elevator without another word.

 

Later that night, Harm snuggled on the hospital bed next to Mac, his arm wrapped around her.  Baby Tommy was resting peacefully, curled in the crook of his momma’s arm.  A tape player whirred softly on Harm’s lap.

 

“Hey, Harm, it’s Dad.”  The upbeat and youthful voice crackled to life on the tape.  “Congratulations on your new addition!  Boy, I wish I could see him…or her.  It’s all right if you had a girl, but I hope it’s a boy.   I should probably say congratulations to your wife, too.  I don’t know who you are, young lady, but welcome to the family.  You and Harm take good care of each other, okay?  That’s what it’s all about.

 

“Harm, I’m sure you’re probably proud as a peacock right now on the outside – I know I was when you were born – but don’t be afraid if you’re scared to death on the inside.  That’s normal.  Remember what I’ve told you before:  fear sharpens the senses.  It’s no different than flying a plane.  Just focus your energy to help you solve whatever problems you face, even as a dad.”

 

Baby Tommy stirred and yawned in Mac’s arms and did not seem to be bothered one bit by the voice coming from the tape player.  Harm was reveling in the image of mother and baby when his father’s voice called again.

 

“So you want to know some secrets about being a great father?  I sure hope there’s enough room on this tape for everything I want to say.”  Harm smiled down at his son.  “When you were born. . . .”

 

++The End++