If  life was a game of poker, we'd quickly realize that some players have all the winning cards while others are dealt from the bottom of the deck. Learning how to bluff without the winning hand and upping the ante at the right moment is how I taught my special ed. students to always walk away with more than they brought to the table.        

      A while ago a young man confined to a wheel chair would be brought into my classroom by a caretaker. Everyday there would be a knock at the door and Ben would ask to visit while we watched Quantum Leap that aired during the noon hour. This gave the caretaker a short break and I didn't mind helping out.

     Ben's body was quite deformed because of cancer and he needed round the clock care, even while at school. His hands and limbs were puffy and distorted, however his mind was clear and sharp. He bubbled with excitement everyday. His laugh, his gestures and expressions brought twenty minutes of pure delight into my life every noon hour.

      Ben often had a laborious time with his wheel chair. He couldn't shift around much and became uncomfortable often. When he'd mention a particular pain, I'd get the plumbing tape and foam to fashion a cushion somewhere on the chair. Soon the chair became a patchwork of tape and foam, however it always solved the problem and I'd always hear a grateful, "Thank you Mr. Jay!"

     The schedule allowed us an opportunity to watch the first half of an episode, a bell would ring, and Ben would leave. I'd bemoan this unfortunate occurrence, so Ben always delighted in describing the last half to me. "One day you'll see them all the way through," he promised. 

     Quantum Leap had an interesting premise. Each episode featured the main character traveling though time and into the body of someone else. For example, he might enter the body of Abraham Lincoln and attempt to thwart the assassination. 

      Ben explained that he had an elaborate collection of Quantum Leap episodes and had viewed all of them many times. He said he never became tired of watching these episodes and had seen most of them a dozen times or more.

      I didn't give it much thought and simply enjoyed the company of this charming young man.

     One day a knock came at the door and the caretaker said that Ben wouldn't be visiting any more. The cancer had claimed its victim.

       I watched a few more Quantum Leap episodes alone during the noon hours and paused for reflection as I really missed Ben. It was now clear to me why Ben loved this TV series. It was  wish-fulfillment to part from the body that was dying and to enter a healthy body. Ben never got his wish; however I couldn't help but feel that his spirit was truly happy for the first time.

     I decided to visit the home of his mother simply to offer my condolences. She was happy to see me even though we had never met. "Ben spoke of you often and admired you greatly." She took me to his room where I saw the old wheel chair, complete with the tape and foam, with a box of videos sitting on it.  

      Ben's mom said, "He spent hours watching Quantum Leap episodes over and over. Don't know why he was infatuated with that series so much. In fact he watched it at the hospital. He…” her voice choked with emotion, "passed away around noon while it was on. It was an episode about a terminally ill..."

      She raised her hand to her lips for a moment, and then covered her eyes. “My God—I've been so blind,” she murmured.

       "Sometimes we are all blind to what is so painfully obvious.”   

       She handed me the box of video tapes. "Ben wanted you to have these. It was his final request. He said you were the only person who would understand and that, 'A promise is a promise'." 

       "I think we both understand." I searched for one particular video and handed it to her. "Ben would want you to have this one."   

      As I took the box of videos from Ben's home, I could hear that familiar voice I had heard so many times. "Thank you Mr. Jay." I stopped to brush away a speck of dirt from my eye while I paused for a moment of quiet reflection. I knew at that very instant, Ben and I had somehow traveled beyond our mere mortal existence and had completed our own final episode of...

      Quantum Leap.     

  ©2002