Have you ever met a six year old that talked like he or she was forty years old ? Have you ever wondered why ? Have you ever heard the phrase, "Old soul" ?

That was me.

It all started a several decades ago with a pair of recurrent dreams. The images were in color and quite vivid. The first image was as if taken from a plane circling an oval harbor. The water is different shades of blue, with the lightest blue next to the shore line. Sand on the shore line met the water. Vegetation started close to the shoreline and dominated the island or atoll.

The second image was even more vivid. I’m flying a plane, a propeller driven plane. The plane is in a climb, pulling away from a bombing run. My crewmates in the plane are cheering. The building behind us, the one we are pulling away from, is brown stucco with a red tile roof. There are palm trees around the building. Then, there are the phobias.

The first is a fear of deep water. On past life forums, it is said that the deep water phobia is a commonality of Titanic survivors. However, if one was on the Titanic, they couldn’t have been flying around-that doesn’t match up. The other phobia is not necessarily a fear of high places, as it is a fear of dropping from a high place. An elevator ride doesn’t bring it on, or an airplane ride, but if the airplane makes a sudden movement, the phobia kicks in.

Then, there is the pre-cognition, otherwise known as déjà vu. Ever been someplace and had the feeling "Hey, I’ve been here before ?" Have you ever been with someone who had a strong sense of déjà vu ? It’s happened to me several times. The most powerful happened at a place that had been a World War 2 airfield. I stood on what had been been the runway and I looked up at the control tower, and I knew, I just knew.

In addition to déjà vu, there is also a sense of familiarity. The first familiarity comes from figure skating. I grew up in an arid town hundreds and hundreds of miles away from the nearest ice rink. Why would I develop an interest in something I couldn't directly relate to ? And yet, as soon as I bought a VCR, I started cataloging tapes of figure skating championships. I can't begin to tell you how many figure skating vids I have laying around.

The other sense of familiarity comes from seeing really old movies that have scenes of Los Angeles or New York. Specifically, the scenes have to be of 1930-1950 vintage. This leads into an event from fifth grade.

I spent my fifth grade year living in Los Angeles. We lived in San Pedro, which is the harbor district. Every chance I got, I would go down to the harbor. On one of those visits I struck up a conversation with firefighters on a fire boat. I asked a firefighter about ferries that ran from Los Angeles to Terminal Island, in the center of the harbor. When he acknowledged that they had indeed existed, I asked him about one that had sunk in mid channel. He gave me a look of amazement. How would a ten year old have knowledge of something that happened decades before ?

So, the clues were, a possible plane crash, a background as a pilot, deep water, and the cities of Los Angeles and New York. For decades, I’ve carried the images and not understood. I’ve tried past life forums and not really found help, only solace. And then, recently, it happened.

At another forum, I made mention of the memories. A forum member sent me a pm and told me of his aunt being very certain of a past life, so certain, that she has had emotional distress over it. I told him of my memories and birth date. He started searching, and he sent information on several plane crashes close to my birthdate. One of the crashes stood out.

The thing that caught my eye was numbers attached to the flight. The flight number corresponded to my birthdate, as well as the numbers of fatalities. The numbers added up to significant moments in my life. We went over the passenger list and crew member list. Since the crew members were all French, that kind of took the air out of that balloon. But then, something in the passenger list stood out. It was a passenger with a number attached. Things were adding up now. The numbers-5-24-36-48-72. It was too much of a coincidence, and there is no such thing as coincidences.

The passenger in question had been a champion figure and ice skater. He was a Navy Pilot in World War Two. I began digging into his past.
His parents were actors, which explains my interest in the arts, as actors frequently dabble in more than just one aspect of the arts. In his early teens he became a competitive skater. By age 18 he had won the US Championship. He would have gone on to the World Championships, but World War Two was raging, nixing that.

He soon joined the Navy and became not only a pilot, but also a pilot instructor. After the war, he went to college. In college he met an heiress and married her. By age 36, he was a senior Vice President in American Express. But then disaster struck.

Over the years, Eddie had been a judge in figure skating competitions. In 1961, a Boeing 707 took off from New York City, enroute to Europe for the World Championships. Finally, Eddie was making it to the World Championships. On approach to the airport, the 707 started flying erratically. The 707 crashed near the airport, there were no survivors. The crash killed the entire American figure skating team, including coaches, parents, and judges.

The plane crash explained the phobia. Eddie had worked in New York City and had lived in a nearby bedroom community. Two of the items on my list were now crossed off. There was also an impression of girls in a house. Eddie had two daughters. I was fairly certain Eddie was me, or was I Eddie ? There was still the matter of the visions that had started this bus rolling.

You would think that someone as accomplished as Eddie would have an easy to find war record, but that wasn't the case. Although three seperate biographies spoke of him being a pilot, there wasn't a notation that he served at an actual place or fought in a battle. In all fairness, there were millions of men serving in the US military at the time. One doesn't really stand out in a circumstance like that. Digging around the net I saw that Anestry.com is a well regarded source of information. I decided to give it a try.

Have you ever tried Ancestry.com ? Although it does contain information, the actual information on hand is only what a family contributes. If a family isn't into geneology, there isn't much to find. Such as it is with Eddie's family. Although Eddie was quite accomplished, most of what there was to be found was his tie in to the plane crash. Consider that fifty years ago, cities had multiple newspapers. The plane crash story was covered by every newspaper in the country, hundreds upon hundreds of newspapers. I dug around Ancestry for a week, then gave up.

The friend who had helped me research had sent me a link to research government records. For those used to navigating this labyrinth, this is child's play. I, however, am a total neophyte at this kind of thing. I became discouraged.

For several weeks I was dejected, but then something else happened. Ancestry announced that they were having a free military records weekend to honor the Fourth of July. I had nothing to lose, so I went back to the site. This time, I decided to change up how I researched. After an hour, it jumped out, and I can't believe I had missed it before.

I had made several presumptions. The first presumption was that once the war was over, Eddie's flying days were over also. I had forgotten my own college days. Two things typical of college students, past and present, is that they love road trips, and they're always in search of money. The newspaper article was about a group of military reserve pilots who were establishing a unit which was to become the Civil Air Patrol. Natch that Eddie was in the naval reserve between wars. Duh. The final pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

Eddie went to college in Reno Nevada. Eddie flew around Northern Nevada, but he would also have to do his reserve duty somewhere. Where would a college age Navy pilot do his reserve duty ? Because of the military presence, one would think San Francisco, but Southern California abounds with Naval Air Stations. As it turned out Terminal Island had a Naval Air Station. How does one get from Terminal Island to Los Angeles (pre 1963) ? One has to take a ferry. Notch up a victory.

That leaves the oval harbor. If one flies out of Reno, a certain landmark jumps out. Lake Tahoe, near Reno, is such a beautiful sight that it would leave quite an impression on anyone experiencing the view. Lake Tahoe is oval shaped. Holy crap.

And so, my lifelong mystery is solved, sort of. I now know that I'm related to people that I've never met. There's a part of me that would like to talk to them and ask questions, but how does one react to someone who knocks on their door and says "I was your dad in another life." Most likely, the door would be slammed shut and the cops would be called. I don't fancy an arrest record.

Eddie's hometown has an active historical society. I have contacted them earlier, and they weren't much help. In person, they might be receptive, but that's only a hope. I will visit there in the future. I don't know what I will find, but as I have already retraced some of his steps, I do need to finish the journey.