Hangar 13. Lindsay McKenna
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“I feel like I’ve stepped into a whole new world here.”
“You have. I’m Native American, raised to respect all people as equal. I’m a shamaness, and I’ve been trained to look at reality very differently than you.”
“I’m a city kid from Portland, Oregon,” Mac admitted. “My father was an electrical engineer until he died of a heart attack at forty-five. My mother stayed at home and raised me and kept house.”
“And I’ll bet she never went out and had a job or a life other than that.”
“Correct.”
“You white men are a spoiled bunch,” Ellie said with a chuckle. “One hamburger or two?”
“Two, please.”
“Manners. That counts with me.”
“Are you always this feisty or is this something special for me?”
“I’m not treating you any differently than I would anyone else—regardless of gender.” Ellie turned the hamburgers in the skillet. “Get the mustard and ketchup from the refrigerator?”
“Sure.” Mac opened the refrigerator door.
“How long have you been divorced?”
Mac hesitated as he placed the ketchup on the table. “Two years.”
“You don’t seem to be over it yet.”
Her insight was unsettling. He paused briefly, then said, “I think if you love someone, it’s tough to leave it behind.”
“The heart never forgets,” Ellie agreed gently, handing him his burgers. “All our good and bad memories are held in it. Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Mac ate with relish. The baked beans, hamburgers and garden salad were perfect. It had been a long time since he’d had a home-cooked meal. Ellie had a healthy appetite, too, unlike Johanna, who had weighed every ounce of food she ate, always scared of gaining a few pounds. Ellie certainly wasn’t fat, but Mac saw that she truly enjoyed her food and obviously didn’t agonize over caloric content.
“Do you have any grounding in metaphysics, Mac?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely none.”
“With your engineering background, the only thing you know is your left-brain reality.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Mac liked the smile she gave him as she wiped her fingers on her pink cloth napkin.
“Neither. It’s merely an observation.” Ellie pointed to the right side of her head. “I need to give you some basic information so you’ll understand what is potentially happening in your Hangar 13.”
Mac added more ketchup to his second hamburger. “Okay, shoot.”
“Native Americans and women tend to be right-brain dominant. Science has established that the right brain’s function is very different from the left brain’s. The left hemisphere processes information based on logic, on physical evidence from our senses. It can speak to us with a sound, a voice, and we all hear it.” She tapped the right side of her head. “The right brain can’t speak to us in the same way.”
“So,” Mac said, buttering a second roll, “does the right brain ‘talk’ to us?”
“Excellent question,” Ellie praised. “Yes, it does, but in a far-more-subtle form. You’d call it intuition, or a gut feeling. I’m sure you’ve heard talk of women’s intuition. Well, some women are simply more in touch with their right brain. Unfortunately, society doesn’t always take this kind of knowledge seriously.”
“I see.”
“You may ‘see,’ in one way, Mac, but you can’t really understand the process. In the Native American culture, we are taught that women know what they know, and that it is different from how men know the same thing. One way isn’t more right than another.”
“Johanna, my ex-wife, used to tell me that when she was in college, she’d come up with the right answers on her math tests, but she wouldn’t be able to remember the formula or how she got the answer.”
Ellie smiled broadly. “That’s right. That’s the right-brain way—making the quantum leap to the answer. It doesn’t care how it got the answer like the left brain does.”
“She flunked the algebra course because she couldn’t prove how she arrived at the answers.”
“I’m sure she did, because most schools and colleges are based on left-brain thinking.”
“How did you do in school?”
“I was able to stay home and be taught by my mother. Right-brain methods of learning are very different from left-brain methods. My mother used a very practical teaching method with me—show-and-tell. I learned by doing, or what is known as hands-on experience. My father, who is a white man and a plumber by profession, taught me his business as I grew up. I watched him do it, and then mimicked his actions. It was very practical.”
“Not a lot of theory, philosophy or left-brain stuff?”
“Precisely.” Ellie got up and removed their plates. “Would you like a slice of homemade cherry pie?”
Mac grinned sheepishly. “Will I be indicted if I say yes?”
“There’s no guesswork with you,” Ellie said with a chuckle as she removed the cherry pie from a cupboard and cut two thick slices.
“My stomach has always been my downfall,” he admitted. “I like home cooking. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it as long as you help with the cooking and not just the eating.” She smiled and put the plate before him.
“I can’t even boil water. I’d make a crummy cook. Thanks, this looks good.”
“That’s because your mother never made you come into the kitchen and learn to cook.” Ellie sat down and enjoyed the silence that blanketed them while they ate dessert. It was obvious Major Mac Stanford had enjoyed the meal.
“Do you make your own meals?” she wondered aloud.
With a shrug, Mac said, “Usually I go to a restaurant off base for dinner.”
“I see….”
“I’m sure you do.” He liked the sparkle in Ellie’s eyes as he met and held her gaze.
“Let me take it a step further, then. The right brain, scientifically speaking, is the creative side of ourselves. It is the seat of our emotions, our feelings. The left brain is tied into lists, black-and-white issues, practicality and strict visual observation.”
“That’s why women are more emotional than men?”
“I’m not letting you get away with that generality,” Ellie said grimly. “Let’s put the shoe on the other foot, Mac—both genders have both brain hemispheres in their head. There is nothing that says men can’t begin utilizing their right brain more.”
With a groan, Mac said, “Now I get it. This is the sensitive man of the nineties you’re talking about, the one who is using his right brain?”
“And his left.” Ellie waved her fork at him. “Don’t you think it’s better for both genders to use both parts of their brains?”
Mac nodded. “Your argument has some interesting concepts, Ms. O’Gentry, but what does it have to do with my problem in Hangar 13?”
“It has to do with metaphysical law. The left brain’s entire function is to keep our focus—our living, if you will—strictly channeled in this third-dimensional world. It has a filter that stops potential information from any other dimension from coming in and disrupting