Once each month, Victoria, my wife, leads volunteers in cleaning Bergen Place Park in Ballard, a Seattle suburb with Scandinavian roots. Of course, I tag along to help.
During our most recent cleaning party, I heard her calling my name. I looked up and she was standing next to some guy I’d never seen before. There was an introduction, the mention of his connection to her, but apparently back in the day, they went to Ballard High School together. “Interesting,” I replied.
“But he’s actually here to meet you.”
It seems that Ed Henry (Ed, if I don’t remember your last name correctly, I apologize—I had a rake and a dustpan in my hands as we talked and didn’t write it down) was a long-time reader of this blog. Oh sure, it’s one thing to say it. But Ed started citing certain stories I’ve done over the years, like the one I did on the passing of Joe South. Yeah, you’d have to dig deep in the archives, but it’s there.
Now, let’s take this up a notch. He was up visiting his mom in Everett, but he actually lived in Paraguay. Once each week, 6,444 miles away, he reads my latest blog entry. He commended me on how much of life was contained in these writings and it was from them that he knew about the monthly work parties at Bergen Place Park. He had simply stopped by to say hi and let me know he was out there, apologizing if he seemed like some kind of stalker.
I said, “Of course not!” At least, I think that’s what I said. He’s outside on the front lawn. Is that right, Ed? He said, “Yes.”
Truly, I was flattered beyond words. So I’d just like to promise Ed and any of my other faithful readers returning each week that I will never settle for anything less than mildly amusing in all my future writings.
Thanks for being out there.