Heaven Waited: March 20, 2025

Heaven has been waiting for Joe Pendleton since 1978. He wasn’t supposed to arrive until “10:17 a.m. on March the 20th of the year Two Thousand and Twenty-Five.”

That was what was written, and Joe would have been happy to abide by what was written. But there was a little mix-up right when Joe was back in the pink—er, had just gotten his body back in shape. The young quarterback (well, in any other profession he would have been young) was set to start for the Los Angeles Rams in a few days, but there was an accident as he rode his bike into a tunnel on an otherwise quiet highway.

Joe Pendleton (Warren Beatty). Disaster ahead?

Except, as an athlete, he had fantastic reflexes and would have missed the car careering toward him. Probably. But his heavenly escort did not wait for the outcome, bringing Joe Pendleton to the Way Station nearly fifty years before his time.

Mr. Jordan himself verified Joe’s expected due date as March 20, 2025. It was written.

"Im not supposed to be here! You guys made a mistake!"

"Joseph Pendleton, due to arrive 10:17 a.m., March the 20th, the year 2025."

This is what was written by Elaine May and Warren Beatty in their 1978 screen adaptation of a play by Harry Segall, Heaven Can Wait. (An earlier screen adaptation was called Here Comes Mr. Jordan.)

To remedy Joe’s (Warren Beatty) loss of several decades of winning Super Bowls and falling in love, and so forth, Mr. Jordan (James Mason) scouted an available body for spirit Joe to Quantum Leap into. The requirement was that the death of this neomort would not yet have been discovered, so Joe could simply assume his identity. He was to carry on as that person, rather than as himself. But Joe couldn’t help being himself, could he?

Spirit Joe would have turned Farnsworth into a philanthropist

First up was the unscrupulous industrialist Leo Farnsworth, murdered by his wife and private secretary (Dyan Cannon and Charles Grodin). Joe transformed this not-yet-dead Leo into a naive but fair-minded (scrupulous) industrialist. And of course he fell in love with the first beautiful environmental activist he met (Julie Christie). She saw something in his eyes. (Remember that.)

"I'm not really Leo Farnsworth! My name is Joe."

Whatever had been the rich bastard’s destiny in life ended with his interrupted murder, and we can assume the real Leo Farnsworth abided by what was written for him, whether his final destination was Heaven or Hell. No matter. Joe needed to get Leo’s body in shape in order to pursue his own destiny—playing in the Super Bowl.

To help him, Joe called on the Rams’ trainer, his good buddy Max Corkle (Jack Warden). Joe first had to convince Max that this Leo Farnsworth was just a body and that, inside, Joe really was the friend Max had mourned. It helped that spirit Joe still carried his old soprano saxophone and could play a single tune, very badly and recognizably so.

"Joe, you never could play that thing!"

Reunited, Joe and Max then had to get this Leo Farnsworth a tryout with the Rams. Anticipating failure, Joe used Farnsworth’s wealth to buy the team so he could install himself as the new quarterback. Joe’s skill and athleticism easily converted the skeptical team.

Whatever had been written in Heaven or Hell for the rich bastard Leo Farnsworth, it did not include playing quarterback for the Rams in the Super Bowl. So once again his wife and secretary conspired to murder him.

Sensing that his time as Leo Farnsworth would be cut short, spirit Joe reassured his sweetheart not to be afraid of what might happen. She might even meet another quarterback and see that something special in his eyes.

Murdered out of Farnsworth’s body, Joe must abide by what was written. So Mr. Jordan took Joe to the Super Bowl where the Rams’ quarterback, Tom Jarrett (not seen in picture) collapsed after a violent play on the field. Joe, back on his proper journey, rose as Tom to complete the win.

Spirit Joe rises as Tom Jarrett

Max Corkle would be the first to recognize the real Joe in Tom Jarrett’s body. It helped that the saxophone arrived with spirit Joe in the locker room.

But Mr. Jordan threw a twist into the metaphysical plotting here. Or playwright Segall did. Or screenwriters May and Beatty did. It has always bothered me.

"Wanna tell me why you keep calling me Joe?"

"You're the quarterback!"

Mr. Jordan erased Joe Pendleton’s memory and merged his spirit completely with the body of Tom Jarrett. He was to live the next 47 years—until March 20, 2025, as Tom, not as Joe.

That’s what was written? Are you kidding me? Max lost his friend, but at least Tom got the girl (yes, she saw spirit Joe in his eyes). Hopefully, when Joe makes it back to Heaven this week, he’ll have a word with Mr. Jordan about that whole big chunk of life he lost.

Love, hosaa
restoring lifetimes

How Now, Voyager? Or, Saving Dr. Jaquith

A Further Adventure of Clarence the Wonderful Life Angel

As has happened to the best of films and the worst of films, perfectly good scenes sometimes get cut for time or other considerations, leaving the lives of some characters unhappily in the balance. Our mission, since we have undertaken it, is to put right these lives that were once put wrong.

As always, the agent of these remedies is the divine Angel Clarence, introduced to us in the faraway, long-ago Capra galaxy, It’s a Wonderful Life. He is typically guided by Mr. Jordan of black-and-white vintage, but there’s a problem.

EXT. HEAVEN. NEITHER NOW NOR THEN, HERE NOR THERE

Materializing through the heavenly mists, our beloved MR. JORDAN can be seen leaning contemplatively upon a cloud. He pulls a nifty little multipurpose device from his breast pocket, subjecting it to a series of taps and swipes with the tip of his ginormous AngelWing.

ANGEL CLARENCE wanders into the scene, distracted by similar activity on a similar nifty device. He trips over JORDAN’s wing tips. The shoes, I mean. CLARENCE scrambles quickly to attention as JORDAN puts his device back in his pocket.

CLARENCE
Oh dear, oh dear, I’m so terribly sorry, Mr. Jordan. I was just catching up on the new season of Project Runway. That unconventional materials challenge gets me every time! (He straightens his AngelWear gown.) Wish we could try something less conventional here. Just once in a while. Just a suggestion. Is something the matter, sir?

MR. JORDAN
I’m glad to see you, darling Clarence. I’ve just been contemplating our upcoming assignment, but I’m afraid that I will have to recuse myself.

CLARENCE
Excuse yourself?

MR. JORDAN
Re-cuse. That is, to remove myself from participating directly in an intervention, due to my partiality.

CLARENCE
Golly, I would have thought partiality is what we needed. I’m partial to pink, for instance. But I see you’re not quite in the pink yourself.

MR. JORDAN
“In the pink.” That has become a most tiresome expression. It was in the vernacular of a blacker-and-whiter era than our present condition. But it does bring me to the point, to introduce my replacement. I have summoned a noble spirit who has also previously played my role, in my name, and done so with honor, grace, and agility.

CLARENCE
Oh, you mean like when they switched Darrins on Bewitched?

MR. JORDAN swooshes his mighty AngelWing and disappears, revealing a slightly more recent version of himself.

CLARENCE staggers backward slightly. NEW MR. JORDAN looks around, brushes his suit off, and catches sight of CLARENCE. They recognize each other from a previous mission.

CLARENCE
Ah! Oh! Uh-oh.

JORDAN
Do not be alarmed, dear one. Clarence, isn’t it? I accept full responsibility for the Scut Farkus affair. It was a matter of probability and outcome. In any attempt to correct the balance of good and evil in a system as chaotic as that place they call the White House … well, it’s best we not talk politics at this point. Fair?

CLARENCE
Oh yes, fair indeedy! And if I may say so, sir, I am very relieved to be staying on this side of the rainbow for this mission. I spent a hundred and fifty years or so in black and white, and it’s a joy indeed to experience so much color! I am partial to pink, you know.

CLARENCE twirls the skirt of his AngelWear ballgown, a silhouette he had not previously attempted. JORDAN picks up a clipboard and glances at it quickly, then puts it down again.

JORDAN
You don’t use these anymore, do you?

CLARENCE
Goodness, no, we have all sorts of upgrades to update. Here, please, borrow mine.

JORDAN and CLARENCE peer studiously into the viewer in the nifty device. CLARENCE dramatically waves his wing across the surface and casts the image onto a nearby puff of cloud. Sadly, it is black and white. The image, I mean. CLARENCE sighs.

JORDAN
Now, now, dear one. We’re here because it’s never too late to correct a mistake, to heal a broken heart, to retrieve a soul left desolate on the cutting room floor of Life. Now, then. Let’s see who we have here.

Through the mists of heavy filters, what might have been a dream sequence in a less-capable cinematographer’s mitts quickly clarifies and adjusts to reveal a distinguished gentleman of maturing vintage arriving at the door of a past-expiration-vintage mansion in Boston—the right part of Boston, where the world is small by comparison. On closer inspection, the gentleman bears an uncanny resemblance to our own black-and-white MR. JORDAN.

CLARENCE looks surprised; NEW MR. JORDAN does not.

CLARENCE
Is this, um, what-do-you-call-it. Is it one of those past life recessions?

JORDAN
Regression? Not exactly. But you’re on the right track, darling Clarence. Have we never told you the story of the Voyager?

CLARENCE (raising and waving his hand eagerly)
Oh, oh! Is it the one about the Voyager—from the poem? Let me see, how did it go. We memorized it in school. “Something, something, duh-da-da something, Now Voyager, sail thou forth.”

JORDAN
Yes, “Sail thou forth to seek and find.”

CLARENCE
Oh, and he didn’t find, did he?

JORDAN
Oh he found, all right. But she whom he found seems to have missed finding him.

CLARENCE
“Whom”?

JORDAN and CLARENCE resume watching the story unfold, in synopsis, on the giant cloudy projection.

JORDAN
Meet Dr. Jaquith, by the way. Even his author forgot to give him a first name.

CLARENCE
I always liked “George” for a first name. George Washington, George Cohan, George Bu- (JORDAN frowns warningly) uh, Bailey. Right, no politics.

ON CLOUD VIEW, we see JAQUITH entering the Vale home, meeting shy and mousy spinster CHARLOTTE VALE. She cowers at the sight of her domineering mother and rushes upstairs to her room. JAQUITH follows, and she allows him to enter. He casually examines objects in her room, focusing on a beautifully carved ivory box (don’t judge—ivory trade was legal back in black-and-white days).

JAQUITH holds the box up to admire its craftsmanship, showering praise upon CHARLOTTE’s skill. Receiving such praise for the first time in her life, she gazes at the kind man she has unexpectedly found in her life. JORDAN nods quietly at the view and stops the action.

JORDAN
I’d like you to take a close look at these two souls, dear Clarence. Miss Charlotte Vale and Dr. Jaquith.

CLARENCE
Nice faces. Not exactly Romeo and Juliet. Or Jack and Rose. But I like ’em. I like Charlotte and George. Er, Jaquith.

JORDAN unpauses the view and we quickly recap the tale:

1. CHARLOTTE goes to JAQUITH’s asylum—er, spa—in the country and blossoms under his treatment, which largely consists of his kind words, his kind eyes twinkling constant approval, and her learning to weave.
2. CHARLOTTE leaves the asylum—er, spa—and takes a cruise to South America, now transmogrified butterfly-like into a beautiful and sophisticated traveler, attracting the attention of sophisticated—and married—fellow traveler JERRY. Driving through the jungle, they fall off a cliff and fall in love. 
3. Too noble to leave his wife for her, JERRY instead teaches CHARLOTTE to smoke. Like, a lot. Somehow this is very sexy.
4. CHARLOTTE comes home alone to resume life under her domineering mother, but now with strength and self-confidence. She pushes back on the old lady’s demands and, to get even with her disobedient daughter, the old lady dies.
5. Guilt-ridden, CHARLOTTE flees back to JAQUITH’s spa (but not into his arms; good doctors have rules about such things, as might a married man, you’d think).
6. At this spa, CHARLOTTE meets and befriends JERRY’s daughter TINA, a kid who is also tormented by her domineering mother. 
7. CHARLOTTE blossoms again by becoming a surrogate mother to needy TINA, taking her home to Boston. TINA blossoms under her Jaquith-like kind care and attention.
8. JAQUITH praises CHARLOTTE’s new-found confidence, drive, and direction, putting her on the board of directors at the asylum—er, spa.
9. Still not leaving his wife, JERRY acts all guilty for letting CHARLOTTE play “mother” to TINA. He gives her yet another cigarette. He lets CHARLOTTE keep TINA and asks, “But will you be happy?”
10. CHARLOTTE replies, “Oh, Jerry. Don’t let’s ask for the moon. We have the stars.”

The CLOUD VIEW image fades to black.

CLARENCE
That’s such a sad story. We really need to help her quit smoking.

JORDAN
Well, yes, there’s that. But what else went wrong here? All of the information you need was right there.

CLARENCE presses rewind on the “Don’t let’s ask for the moon” sequence.

CLARENCE
Well, that’s some fairly cheesy dialogue, in my opinion. Mark Twain could have done much better. But I do like the music. Hm, all the information I need, eh? That thing about the moon reminds me of something. And anyway, what’s wrong with asking for the moon?

With an angelic smile, JORDAN starts to swish his majestic AngelWing but stops short, eyeing CLARENCE’s AngelWear ballgown.

JORDAN
You’d better change before heading back to Boston.

THUNDER and LIGHTNING and other HEAVENLY EFFECTS swipe the scene to beyond “The End.”

INT. VALE HOME. EVENING.

As JERRY leaves CHARLOTTE alone in the library, he rejoins TINA with DR. JAQUITH in the living room, where they are eating weenies roasted in the fireplace.

JERRY
Well my darling. It seems you are to stay here with your “light lady,” Camille.

TINA looks bewildered, turning from her father to her doctor.

TINA
Is it true, Dr. Jaquith? Will I never go home anymore?

JAQUITH
What is it you want, Tina? You are healthy enough and grown enough to make your own decisions.

TINA
Daddy, it’s true. Camille is teaching me to stand up for myself, on my own two feet, just like her. And I’m pretty now, too, just like her.

JAQUITH
You’re pretty because you are loved.

JERRY
Yes, my darling, you are loved. But are you truly strong enough to face … whatever dragons may live out there?

TINA
You mean Mother?

JERRY looks down sadly, helplessly. JAQUITH watches warily. The front DOORBELL RINGS.

JACOB "BIFF" MARLEY (voice-over from Heaven)
Bell out of order. Please knock.

There is a KNOCK at the door, which TINA runs to answer. ISABELLE, the estranged wife of JERRY and mother of TINA, enters, accompanied by CLARENCE, now appropriately black-and-white and suitably pinstriped.

TINA
Mother!

ISABELLE
Who? Oh. Um. Hello little girl.

ISABELLE turns to CLARENCE for clarification.

CLARENCE
I’m terribly sorry for the confusion, madam. We were in quite a rush, you see. Christmas Eve and what-not. We didn’t quite get the necessary pages downloaded from headquarters in time for you to study for the part.

MARLEY (voice-over)
I’m just finishing up the second draft now.

JORDAN (voice-over)
Now Biff, don’t try and con me!

CLARENCE
Mrs. Dorrance, of course you must recognize your youngest daughter, Christina, who’s been away at Dr. Jaquith’s mental-health spa.

MARLEY (voice-over)
In improv, always say Yes.

ISABELLE
Yes, of course. Darling Christina. How well you look. Have you been behaving yourself?

TINA (seething)
Yes, of course, Mommy Dearest. (Sotto voce) And my friend Camille taught me how to make it look like an accident!

CHARLOTTE comes out of the library to see what-the-what. TINA grabs a heavy umbrella from the stand by the door. As ISABELLE walks toward the living room, TINA starts to take a mighty swing at her mother’s head. CLARENCE throws out a wing to block the hit. TINA reels around and collapses on the floor.

Motherly, fatherly, and doctorly instincts take hold, and all rush to TINA’s aid. As JERRY and ISABELLE unite to help their daughter, a tender look passes between them. TINA sits up dizzily, beaming as happily as her parents.

CLARENCE opens the door and ushers them all out, as CHARLOTTE and JAQUITH look on.

CLARENCE
Well that was easier than I thought!

CLARENCE follows the family to the edge of the doorway, then reaches around just outside to pull a large, flat package into the room.

CHARLOTTE
Well. Now. It seems I am unneeded after all. And you have lost another patient, Dr. Owl. That won’t help the asylum’s bottom line very much.

JAQUITH
Spa.

CHARLOTTE
Pshaw yourself.

JAQUITH
What’s this twaddle about not being needed? And isn’t about time you started calling me “George”?

CLARENCE
Ha! I knew it!

CHARLOTTE (finally noticing CLARENCE)
I beg your pardon. I would by no means turn away a package-bearing party crasher, but would you be so kind as to introduce yourself?

CLARENCE
Alas and alack, dear lady, allow me to present myself presently. I am Clarence Odbody, AS-1. That’s Angel, First Class, in general charge of mulligans. Putting right what once went wrong, as it were.

CHARLOTTE and JAQUITH exchange smiles.

CHARLOTTE
One loony goes out the door, the next flies through the window, eh Dr. Owl?

JAQUITH
Mr. Odbody, please do have a seat. You must be extremely fatigued after such a long journey.

CLARENCE
Not at all, my good man! Not at all! In fact, I have come merely to present you with this present. For both of you, actually. Call it a … an engagement gift, perhaps?

CLARENCE winks, blinks, and evaporates, leaving no trace behind. Not even a memory.

CHARLOTTE and JAQUITH sit on the floor in front of the fireplace, looking over the new building plans for the spa.

CHARLOTTE
You know, Dr. Owl … George. I was a fool to believe Jerry really loved me. Oh, I know he was attracted to me, of course. But that wasn’t real. Was it?

JAQUITH
I may have to recuse myself from this particular question.

CHARLOTTE
Jerry made me feel beautiful. But I think it was you who made me beautiful. Well, you, and a sweet sister-in-law’s flare for fashion and clever grooming. You made me feel -

JAQUITH
Needed?

CHARLOTTE
No …

JAQUITH
Wanted?

CHARLOTTE
No … Talented. One does want to find a place where one is truly valued, on her own merits.

JAQUITH
And what about feeling loved?

CHARLOTTE
A woman is beautiful when she is loved, and only then.

JAQUITH
I’ll have to remember that one.

CHARLOTTE
And what about you, darling George? Do I make you feel that special kind of beautiful? I hope I do.

JAQUITH
Shall we just have another roasted weenie on it?

CHARLOTTE laughs and fetches a roasted weenie from the fire, handing the skewer to JAQUITH. While he eats, CHARLOTTE opens the package CLARENCE had left for them. It is a hand-drawn poster, with the caption “George Lassos the Moon.” They gaze at it—and each other—lovingly.

FADE TO STARRY, MOON-LIT SKY.

JORDAN
Well done, darling Clarence. What is that, exactly?

CLARENCE
Oh, just a souvenir from my first mission.

MARLEY
Scene stealer.

FADE OUT.

____

Author’s note: Previous Clarence adventures may be perused by following the following links.

Saving Mr. Potter
Christmas Belle, or Saving Miss Fezziwig
Saving Mr. Sawyer
Saving Mr. Jordan
Saving "Big" Susan
Saving Miss Gulch

Happy saving!
Love, hosaa

Saving Mr. Jordan

Another Clarence the Angel adventure.

It is Christmas Day, but in Heaven, jolly it is not. Not one normally given to seasonal despair, our dear Head Angel, Mr. Jordan, could not help but succumb to a remembrance of remorse past. He sat in his own little corner of the way station, on his own little chair, and placed a pointy white dunce cap upon his own head, forgoing the good old jaunty tilt.

Returning from Belle and Ebenezer's wedding party, Clarence cha-cha'd merrily to his side.

"Ah, darling Mr. Jordan, I am happy to report another resounding success! Woo-hoo!" Baffled by Mr. Jordan's indifference, Clarence repeated, "Woo-hoo, I say! Um, nice hat. A little too pointy for this day and age, though, if you get my drift. If you don't mind my saying so."

Jordan removed the pointy white dunce cap and tossed it testily to the floor. He sighed heavily and turned sullenly to his former student.

"You are quite right, First Angel Clarence, my friend. Quite right. Oh, and congratulations on the Fezziwig correction. Well done."

"Oh, thank you, Sir! But whatever is the matter? You seem out of sorts."

"Again, quite right. Clarence, I've failed. I must confess it. I ... I have left a soul behind."

Clarence gasped audibly. "No! That's not possible!"

A tear dribbled down Mr. Jordan's cheek and splashed into a cloud below, unleashing a Winter Wonderland over an unsuspecting Los Angeles.

"Oops."

Clarence pulled a silk hanky from the bodice of his ruched angel garb and dabbed Mr. Jordan's cheek. "There, there."

In a rush to relieve his burdened heart, Mr. Jordan told Clarence that sad story of Max Corkle, a trainer for the Los Angeles Rams (as they were then). Max was the good and true friend of star athlete Joe Pendleton, whose body was prematurely removed from active duty. While Heaven waited, Joe's soul was placed into the body of another athlete, but his memory of his life as Joe was then erased, along with his friendship with Max.

"I managed to keep the girlfriend for Joe, but how could I have left the friend behind?"

"There, there," Clarence repeated, to little effect. He then gave his masterful angel-wing a whoosh and a swish, activating the high-def big-picture plate. Swishing left and swishing right, swirling all around, Clarence found what he had hoped to see: An alternative universe.

"Ah ha, oh lookie!" Clarence pointed to a minor character in one of his favorite Christmas scenarios, popularly called While You Were Sleeping. "This one must have happened while you were sleeping, Mr. Jordan!"

"You see? The soul of Max was reborn in another role, named Saul, and became a friend to another lonely soul, named Lucy."

"Not that football-stealing sham psychologist 'Lucy'? That's one soul even I'm afraid to tackle."

Clarence reassured his mentor that this Lucy was a good and true friend to the Saul that Max had become. Mr. Jordan's eyes twinkled brightly, but only for a moment.

"My dear sweet Clarence, my heart remains full of woe. For the first time in my career, I feel that The Powers That Be did not use their powers for the best possible good."

Clarence shuffled his feet a bit, not just for the pleasure of watching the wisps of pink-frosted clouds waltzing about his satin slippers.

"You no doubt are referring to the new Scut Farkus administration down on Earth." Clarence scratched his fuzzy chin and waltzed up a few more pink wisps.

Mr. Jordan nodded sadly. Waving his own majestic wing across the plate, he drew up the picture of the meanest bully in town, the yellow-eyed Scut.

"I just don't know how the forces of good could have let this happen. Imagine, a man like Scut in the White House, in charge of the freest part of the free world, with the most free will to do free ill. I am so disappointed."

Clarence furrowed a frown and pushed the sleeves up on his AngelWear gown. He knew this would require his most concerted efforts of imagination and resourcefulness. If only, if only he could imagine an alternative outcome. At what critical moment could the Scut Farkus history be diverted to another course of direction?

Determined to make right what once went wrong, Clarence clashed his wings together in cymbalic fashion and projected himself into a small town in Indiana at a crucial point in the pre-Christmas Story unfolding.

A young boy named Ralphie is being punished by his mother for saying a dirty word. The punishment being a mouthful of Lifebuoy soap, young Ralphie had a little trouble answering his mother's interrogations.

"Where did you hear that word? Tell me! Who said that word to you?" She removed the Lifebuoy so the boy could answer.

Ralphie could not tell his mother the truth, that it was the dear old man himself who'd uttered the word many times while changing tires, fixing fuses, and fighting furnaces. So, instead, he would name one of his friends, the first name that came to his mind,

"Schw...."

"Shhhh," Clarence interrupted in the boy's ear. "No, don't rat out a friend for this, me boy. Say, um, yes this should do the trick: Say 'Scut Farkus'!"

"Scuuuuut Farkuuuuuus!"

Mother shrieked in horror, replacing the Lifebuoy in Ralphie's mouth while she went to the phone to call Mrs. Farkus.

Clarence swooshed his wings to fast-forward the slightly revised Story, in which it is now Scut Farkus and not Schwartz who is punished: a far more just outcome, all things considered.

The grown-up Scut would become a model of kindness, not unlike other souls who have been shown the errors of their ways, such as our legendary Marleys and Scrooges. Satisfied that he had saved the world from a Scut Farkus administration in the White House, Clarence fled to Mr. Jordan's side.

"Mr. Jordan, Mr. Jordan, I have good news!" Clarence sang.

Mr. Jordan stood with his arms folded, a glower darkening his brow. "Do you, Clarence? Do you, indeed? Well, I'm afraid to say I have some bad news."

Mr. Jordan swooshed his left wing over the high-def plate to show Clarence the outcome of the events he'd unleashed. Clarence looked in horror at what he had done. He reached for the pointy white dunce cap and dutifully donned it.

"I'm gonna need a bigger Lifebuoy," he said.