Do You Believe In Magic?

There are only two ways to live your life.

As though nothing is a miracle,

Or as though everything is a miracle.

- - - Albert Einstein

In 1957, when I was eight, my father showed me a rectangular card with blue and silver graphics of two astronauts in spacesuits and helmets, holding oxygen tanks and walking on a white surface in boxy-looking boots. The card had a serial number and a hand-written signature in blue ink.

“Look at this,” he whispered.

“Why are we whispering?”

“Because it’s a secret. If you promise not to tell, I’ll let you in on it.”

“I promise.”

“It’s a ticket from Pan Am for the first space shuttle to the moon,” he said.

“You’re going to the moon?” I whispered. “Can I come too?” I raised my voice. “You can’t go without me!”

“Sh-h-h. I have four tickets—one for each of us. We’re all going. But don’t tell your mother. She’ll think I’m nuts.”

I agreed that she would be a hard sell.

The now defunct Pan American Airlines had placed an ad in the newspaper, offering seats to civilians on their first commercial flight to the moon, first come, first serve.

My father sent them this note:

Attention: Reservations

Gentlemen: I wish to reserve four (4) seats, first-class, for your first trip to the moon. Please advise when we can plan to make this trip, and how much luggage we would be permitted to carry.

Thank you for confirmation.

Very truly yours, Samuel M. Cagan

Shortly afterward, he received an official letter with the tickets enclosed, declaring us members of the First Moon Flights Club. The confirmation letter read:

Dear Moon First Flighter,

Thank you for your confidence that Pan Am will pioneer commercial space travel, as it so often has here on Earth. The enclosed cards formally recognize your intrepid spirit. It reflects by serial number your family’s position of record on our Waitlist For Moon First Flights.

Starting date of service is not yet known. Equipment and route will be subjected to government approvals. Fares may be out of this world. We ask you to be patient while these things are worked out before we accept deposits or make confirmed reservations.

We will keep you informed of all developments and we thank you for coming to Pan Am first. That’s exactly what we intend to be. On earth. To the moon. Any place else.

Sincerely, James Montgomery

Vice-President, Sales

My father was pure magic. He would toss me in the air and when he put me back down, I ran beside him and together we kissed the wind. A strikingly handsome man, he was always ready to break out into a smile. He had a full head of smoky brown hair and an infectious sense of humor. He was irreverent without being rude and he was full of surprises. In preparation for our upcoming moon shot, he took me to the Planetarium where we leaned back in our chairs and looked at thousands of stars and constellations projected onto a domed ceiling.

One morning, he woke me up before sunrise and we drove to a vacant lot near the airport to watch an eclipse of the sun. He was fascinated by both science and mystery and he taught me to look for unexpected things that were hiding in plain sight.

No matter how scary or hard life was, my father reminded me to find the magic. He said it was always there. We just had to remember to look for it. When we had crashing thunderstorms, he took the family onto our screened porch at the back of our house and with each flash of lightning and peal of thunder, he told us stories and made us laugh. He taught me not to be afraid and I still associate thunderstorms with excitement and play.

It’s make-believe magic when movie superheroes do impossible feats like flying through the air, scaling the sides of skyscrapers or disappearing into thin air, but there is real magic in the little things. Music that carries you into a new dimension. Hummingbirds whose wings can flap 200 times per second. Ballerinas who dance on the tips of their toes. A baby taking her first steps. The way our bodies heal.

Real magic is a lot more than Abra Cadabra. It’s a feeling, a sense of mystery, a way to marvel at the inexplicable synchronicities of life. There is a great deal more than the eye can see and you can rise above the darkness and journey toward the light of the miraculous. All you have to do is believe.

J. M. Barrie, the author of “Peter Pan,” said, “The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it.”