such small hands

Reconnecting

Sometimes we lose touch with people -- not mere aquaintances, but people who really mattered at pivotal points in our lives. People who changed us, made us who we are now.

My friend Catherine is such a person. We met in college -- our junior or senior year, I'm not sure. We worked together in the crummy little campus TV station and became fast friends. We partied together, shared secrets that will go to our graves and made big plans for who we would become after graduation.

But nothing strengthened the bond between us like The Trip To Europe. From the moment Catherine asked me to go with her to backpack around Europe and I gave her a serious yes, that was it. We were in this together and we were going to make it happen, no matter what.

And we did. From September to November 1978, we visited almost every country in Western Europe. By Eurailpass and sometimes hitchhiking. Staying in youth hostels, cheap pensions or, once, sleeping out. It was a profoundly life-changing experience.

We came home, found jobs, got married. She went to Oklahoma and I ended up in Michigan. Still, we made time to see each other, taking no-spouses vacations. She is the reason I've been to San Francisco and strolled down Castro Street. She is the reason I canoed down the Arkansas River and spent a sleepless night in a tent, listening to the chorus of tree frogs.

But then the babies came -- first her Angelea and then my Amy. My last picture of Catherine is from spring 1988. Amy's dad is holding her 6-month-old self and Catherine is holding a very reluctant Angelea.

Life happened and we grew apart. Her husband quit his job to build their house. I think the last time I spoke to her was the awful phone call in 1995 when I told her I was leaving my marriage. I guess I figured she hated me for that (she was my matron of honor), so I was afraid to try calling her old phone number in the years that followed.

Then, this past Christmas Eve, an astonishing present appeared in my Hotmail inbox -- an e-mail from Catherine. She had tracked me down, via the Internet White Pages and Google, which led her to this blog.

God bless this sweet, goofy blog.

Her note quickly brought me up-to-date on the years-long gap -- her own divorce, her daughters' endeavors, her job. But her biggest news was her plan for the future -- she was retiring from 28 years in social work for the State of Oklahoma. To join the Peace Corps. In Albania.

Amid the craziness of her preparations to leave the country for two years, we haven't been able to connect. Until today. The thin thread of a cell phone connection erased the expanse of years and miles between us. Catherine, sitting in her car at a Nowata, Oklahoma, gas station, and I, sitting at my kitchen table in Royal Oak, Michigan, chatted away as if we had been meeting for years to talk over coffee.

Tomorrow morning, she gets on a plane for Philadelphia. And by St. Patrick's Day my sweet Irish girlfriend will be off to a strange new country.

She'll have a cell phone and a brand-new laptop. So, if she can find an Internet cafe, maybe I'll get a few e-mails. Or a transAtlantic cell phone call.

Then, when she comes home, we'll play a few rounds of golf. And write a book together about our adventures. Because, like life-long friendships, the story never really ends.

Amy Welborn's New Blog

Amy Welborn, extraordinary writer and Catholic blogger, is now writing over at Beliefnet. Her blog is called Via Media. I don't know whether she will continue writing at Charlotte Was Both, so I will change the link in my blogroll to take you to Via Media. She has some thoughts on Psalm 23:1 that I think you won't want to miss. Her thoughts about "I shall not want" in light of her grief and loss. I can't imagine what she describes as "absolute silence in a bedroom in the darkness of night, a silence undisturbed by a breathing, shifting presence on the other side of the bed." I know God's grace is sufficient for all things but ... still, it's hard to imagine.

New Site: Front Porch Republic

In my wandering around the Interwebz, I learned about a new blog/e-magazine called Front Porch Republic. It includes the writing of several younger conservative voices that I've been reading for several months now: Rod Dreher, Patrick Deneen, Daniel Larison, among others. I recommend it to you if you appreciate thoughtful writing on political, social and cultural issues from a conservative perspective. It's the anti-Rush Limbaugh.

As an introduction, and to explain the site's name, I refer you to this piece by Deneen: "A Republic of Front Porches." Does your house have a front porch? Do you sit on it? Ours is small, just big enough for a couple of chairs and a pathway to the front door. But Ken sits there often when the weather allows and I will sometimes join him, just to watch the neighborhood go by. Our across-the-street neighbors often use their front porch as a smoking room, no matter the weather. People pass by walking their dogs or pushing strollers. They seem more likely to say hi than they would if you were meeting in a more public place.

Welcome to March

Can spring really be that far away?

I finished the taxes over the weekend (with many thanks to Turbo Tax. Never had a big problem with "the box," as the ads for H&R Block would have you believe.) E-filed the returns this morning. Our income was a bit lower because of my layoff, reduced interest and dividends. As a result, we are getting a tidy refund from Uncle Sam. A chunk of it will go to pay down the mortgage and the rest will be saved to pay for Amy's final semester at Western Michigan in the fall.

Ken and I started taking golf lessons a couple weeks ago. It's at a local golf dome, and is sponsored by our city's recreation department. We both really enjoy our instructor, Jim. Ken's probably coming away with the greatest benefit. We went to the dome on Saturday to practice and I just couldn't do what I was supposed to do (get the ball to go left). Pretty much a waste of a large bucket. I plan to work on the drills this week before trying to hit balls again. And I did so well at the lesson on Thursday; that's what I don't understand.

Amy wil be home later this week for spring break. She also has a meeting on Friday with the woman who's going to be supervising her summer internship here at Crain Communications. Amy couldn't be more excited about it.

For our Lenten devotional, Ken and I have been reading "The Power of the Cross" by Michael Dubruiel (yes, he is Amy Welborn's late husband). His insights have been very thought-provoking and helpful for getting me into a Lenten frame of mind.

On a lighter note, we have one more trip to Crystal River, Florida, planned at the end of March. By that time, it will be almost spring in Michigan and the golf courses will begin to dry out enough to be playable.

Oh yeah. Wasted three hours of my life last night watching "Magnolia." Don't know what I was thinking.