Story Links:
Phantom of the Thunderegg
What are Story Stones?
This one-of-a-kind handcrafted Lapidary Art pieces features a slice of a Thunderegg which, with a little imagination, resembles a Phantom with his wings spread out like a bat, looking at his reflection in dark and foreboding waters. He sits atop a piece of live-edge Big Leaf Maple Burl wood. Green Aventurine steps provide structure, and a route to the top of his podium. The bottom is lined in cork to protect both surfaces and the wood.
Inspired by Dale Bertram's relationship with his daughter Rachael, and her love for selecting Thundereggs to cut with him. His understanding of the significance of unseen treasures inspired Phantom of the Thunderegg and its accompanying story.
Size:
L x W: 23.3cm x 7.2cm (9.25" x 2.75")
Approx. Height: 11.6cm (4.75")
Weight: 13.5oz (.84lbs)
Phantom of the Thunderegg
In this day and age you have to be careful what words we use to describe people. For example, how about people with ‘special needs’? That seems like a good enough term, better than ‘handicapped’ and certainly better than other terms. I have a daughter named Rachael. She has ‘special needs’. Rachael is forty-four going on seven. A few years ago, my sister bought the lapidary estate of a member of her local geological club who had passed away. She gave me about twenty-five Thundereggs from this cache.
Rachael no longer lives with us; she has her own ‘pad’ where she lives with several of her friends and support staff. She comes to stay at our house for the weekend every other week. Whenever Rachael comes for the weekend she can’t wait to cut a Thunderegg with me. I doubt that she really cares about Thundereggs. It’s the “with me” part that she cares about. Doing something with Dad, she loves that. Actually, Rachael loves everybody. When she comes to visit, she will say – sometimes a hundred times – “today is my lucky day”. If you ask her, “why are you lucky today Rach?” She says, “because I get to see you!” And, she is not smart enough to be manipulative or insincere. She means what she says: Love you guys, miss you guys, love your house, haven’t seen you in a long time, call you Tuesday?
The funny thing about it is that Rachael actually is lucky. We found this out when we took her to the casino once. I had put forty bucks in The Buffalo Grand machine and spun it away down to the last spin. I asked Rachel if she would like to do the last spin – and on that last spin she won $900.72. She was thrilled, but all she cared about was the seventy-two cents: she likes coins. The nine crisp one-hundred-dollar bills did not interest her. We started calling her ‘Lucky’.
One time somebody asked me what was wrong with Rachel. I said nothing is wrong with Rachael. “Well does she have a syndrome?” I said yes – she has Rachael syndrome. She was born without that part of the human brain that makes the rest of us treat each other badly and makes us forget what is really important in life. All she cares about is the people she loves, and if you met her once that would include you. She doesn’t give a hoot about money. Then there is the rest of us: our lives are all tied up with mortgages or rent payments or car payments, or the consequences of our past poor decisions, politics, or the price of eggs. So: who then is ‘handicapped?
We had to ration out the twenty-five Thundereggs we got from my sister. We made a rule that we could only cut one per weekend visit, and with that we made them last a long time. I let her pick which one she wants to cut and she loves it. Now I have to get some more, because she still asks if we can cut a Thunderegg when she comes home. Rachael was the one who found The Phantom.