Now it’s at this point that I should note that although Sue and I share the same birthday, we weren’t born in the same year. Or decade. In fact, Sue got a head start on me by about 45 years. And although she keeps fit and active in her mid-70’s, I would have to say that our attraction was largely intellectual. I don’t think I’m her type anyway.
And let me say for the record that my interest in the hot tub in a retirement community was purely for its therapeutic benefits. I had just returned from my six-month trek through Europe, and was spending some time recuperating with my folks at their place in North Carolina.
Retirement does interesting things to people. My mother is now a certified water aerobics instructor. My father grows and sells carnivorous plants. Sue had been living in the coastal Carolina area for the past few years, and had recently rekindled her interest in something that she had not practiced for many years – her love of art. She had begun painting again, and doing some sketches. But she also wanted to express herself in a different way – she wanted to write her memoirs – and she had recently signed up for a writing class with a local author.
BOGUE BANKS, NORTH CAROLINA COAST
Many people facing retirement and perhaps spending quite a bit of their time reflecting on their lives probably believe that there is something instructive, or cautionary, or even entertaining about their stories that might prove interesting to others. Yet perhaps the act of putting one’s experiences to paper is more a benefit to the self; an act of identification, of self-definition; of facing one’s demons from the past and making peace with one’s regrets and failures and ‘what-ifs’; or perhaps giving sound to a feeble trumpet heralding the quiet victories of an anonymous life.
Sue, with a characteristic understatement that I have always since found both charming and humorous, said that she had lived a pretty full life.
So I asked her to tell me about it.
They tell you not to stay in a hot tub for too long. But as Sue began relating the events of her fascinating life, I became completely absorbed in her story. I was immersed, you might say. Sue described scenes of deep personal tragedy, loss, heartbreak, and the questioning of faith. Yet she spoke with the grace of a woman blessed with serenity and fortitude and, of all things, humor. In her presence, I was made strikingly aware of my own relative youth, as I sat in awe at the vast continent of experience another human has traveled in her lifetime.
I began making regular visits over to Sue’s place, and we began the process of collecting her stories. Eventually, we will realize Sue’s dream of publishing her memoirs. But this project, as well as Sue’s life – remains a work in progress.
Below, you will find an article we wrote for the local Beaufort, North Carolina newspaper. The first installment, if you will; a mere glimpse at the story of this amazing woman.
Also, you will find stories about our recent trip to Pentrefoelas, Wales, where Sue spent much of her youth – and as she says, her ‘happiest days’.
So I’d like to dedicate this section – this region of Dansylvania, and thus, a significant area of my life’s geography – to my good friend Susanne VanDyne.
