A New Life for 2019

One year ago today (July 26, 2018) I flew to Johannesburg to begin a three-week trip around South Africa. The trip came out of an earlier storytelling workshop at which Ruth Walkup told stories of her childhood in the Congo.  As the week progressed, some of us suggested that Ruth organize a trip for us.  So, on this day last year, nine of us were flying, most directly from Atlanta, to South Africa.

As we had great adventures and saw unbelievable sights, I began to realize that I was alone in experiencing many things that truly deserved to be shared.  This was my first trip out of the country since my late wife, Merle, had died in 2017.  I was not used to having such experiences alone.

When the trip ended, the fall festival seasons was beginning to unfold.  One of the festivals at which I was featured was the wonderful Lititz Festival in Pennsylvania.  When the festival was over on Saturday night, my next responsibility was to be in Jonesborough, Tennessee by noon Monday to begin the week as Teller in Residence prior to the National Storytelling Festival there.

On the way from Lititz to Jonesborough the route came down I-81 through Virginia and passed by the city of Roanoke.  My dear friends, Harry and Natalie Norris, lived there.  Harry and Natalie are long-time supporters of the National Storytelling Festival and of the Sounds of the Mountains Festival right there near Roanoke.  I asked them if I could spend the night with them, and the plan was made.

Each year for a number of years I had met one of Harry’s employees at Howell’s Motor Freight when she came with his family to Jonesborough.  On some years I also saw her at the Sounds of the Mountains Festival.  It was a five-minutes a year visit with Trish Johnson, whose warm and embracing smile was easily remembered  from one year to the next.

Some days before arriving at Roanoke, I called Harry with a question.  “What do you think would happen if I asked Trish out to dinner the night I am there?”  His answer was immediate: “She would wet her pants!”

I did call and I did ask.  She immediately agreed and we had the plan made for what turned out to be our one and only real date.

When that day came, we had a wonderful time.  We walked, ate ice cream, walked more, had dinner...but mostly we talked nonstop for hours.  It turned out to be our only date.  Both of us knew from that early meeting that we felt like we easily and naturally belonged together.

All else that needs to be told is that we were married on Ocracoke Island on February 19 right in the middle of the first case of  flu I ever had in my life!  We got a big chunk of the “sickness and health” part tested right at the beginning.

Much of the spring was spent getting Trish moved to Ocracoke and her old house cleaned out in Roanoke. By the beginning of summer, it was pretty well done.

Now, a year after that flight to Johannesburg, everything I do and everywhere I go we are sharing together. It is the beginning of new life and a new world.