With the approach this weekend of the Iowa Metaphysical Fair in Des Moines, I was sipping my coffee and thinking back about all the amazing folks I've met and the stories told to me over the years at that event.
One of the most unusual true experiences came from a long time farmer that lived close to Boone, IA, and what happened to him one bright, sunny fall day while harvesting his soybeans.
In June of 2001, a tall, silver haired, 80 plus year old gentleman sat down in the old folding chair across the table from me, his blue eyes bright and glinting with years of experience and wisdom. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a seed corn cap and a nicely pressed plaid shirt. His strong face and slightly knarled hands told me he'd spent years out working in the Iowa corn and bean fields. He extended one of those hands and introduced himself as Roy P.
I was surprised when the next words out of his mouth were, "Can I ask you something and you can tell me whether or not I really saw what I saw or if I'm going crazy? I need to know if I'm losing it." He was serious, and I could tell he was really, truly worried about whether he had symptoms that signaled the onset of dementia.
"Of course," I replied. "Tell me what happened."
The octogenarian slowly took off his seed corn cap, and he looked at me earnestly and bent in, lowering his voice.
"I was out last fall in my harvester, 'bout mid October, finishing up combining a row of beans. It was a bright sunny day, oh...about lunch time, and I noticed that some vines had caught in the front of the rig so I stopped and climbed down to pull 'em out." He paused and slowly licked his lips, glancing sideways to see if anyone else was listening before looking back up at me. I nodded for him to continue.
"It was just me there, and I didn't see anybody else or hear 'em coming up. But I don't always hear so good anymore." He pointed to the hearing aid in his left ear. "Then I turned around an' he was there."
"Who was?" I prompted.
"The tall guy," came the response. I had noticed that my elderly client himself was on the tall side, still close to 6 foot 3 inches even in his early eighties. For him to refer to someone else as "tall," made me sit up and take notice. I'd been tracking in my mind the images he was sending, as I always do when someone speaks, but this was very, very different. I wanted to confirm what I was getting.
"He was really tall wasn't he," I prompted. "Long arms, and really long legs."
The farmer nodded. "I figure close to ten feet," he said. "Maybe more." I could tell he was seeing the image in his mind's eye and was trying to be precise.
I swallowed and nodded. I could see where this was going but wanted him to tell it in his own words. "Go on."
"He was only 'bout a dozen feet from me. No clothes, kinda creamy white skin, his head was pretty big an' I didn't see any hair. He had really long skinny arms n' legs. He had them big dark eyes." The old farmer spread his thumb and index finger apart almost three inches to show me what size he meant, "An' they were almond shaped like."
Roy paused, shook his head and ran a hand through his own neatly trimmed silver hair, remembering the strange event. "Heck, I still had my hands full of vines an' I just stood there lookin' at him."
"What did you do?" I asked gently.
He shook his head again. "Well, I stared at him for a few moments and he stared back at me. I was so flabbergasted I didn't move. I wasn't scared, just kinda...well surprised. Then this tall fella, well he....." Roy's voice trailed off. He looked up at me and suddenly there was real worry in his face. "You gotta tell me if I'm crazy," he said earnestly. "Cause I watched his fella slowly turn away from me, reach out a hand like you would if you were gunna open a door, and then step forward into absolutely nothin!"
"He vanished?" I asked.
Roy nodded. "Disappeared in a single step forward and went straight into nothin'. Like he went through an invisible doorway or something. Never saw him again, never knew where he went."
"What did you do?"
"Well, I stood there for a bit to see if he was gunna come back or what. Then I got back into the combine and went home for lunch."
I had to smile at the practical farmer's response. After a moment, I asked, "Did you tell anybody else? Did you report it to anyone?"
Roy snorted. "Heck no! They'd think I was a nut case...might put me in a home or somthing. I ain't told anybody else but you. After I ate, I went back out to the field to finish up the beans...had to, rain was coming. Never saw or heard anything else at all." He leaned forward, his eyes searching mine earnestly. "So?" was all he said.
I smiled and spent the next ten minutes talking to him earnestly about various types of star-nation or extraterrestrial being sorts of encounters and at the end, I reassured him that his description was not uncommon and that he was as sane as the day he was born. I encouraged him to not be scared, to look at it was an amazing life experience and gave him the contact information for the local Iowa MUFON group.
Roy P. nodded his thanks and stood up. He shook my hand briefly, said thank you again and that was all he needed to hear. I watched the lanky farmer saunter away slowly, and I sighed, then smiled. An 80 plus year old Iowa farmer had just gifted me with a marvelous retelling of his own true close encounter of the third kind. I was blessed to be the first one to ever listen to his story.
Gods, I LOVE my job!
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