Fate

Do you believe in fate or even in a lucky coincidence?

A few years ago, I was helping my father sort through his books and found a paperback with five nurses pictured on the cover. It was called Bedpans and Bobbie Socks[1].I passed him the book, and he studied the front and back cover as if it was the first time he’d seen it.

Dad was suffering from mixed dementia. Each day I visited his care facility, I worried he might not know me, but it was not like that with books. He never grew tired of discussing them even when he struggled to find the words.  He smiled and gave the book back to me. “You should read this,” he said, to which he added, “I think you’ll find it interesting.” So I stacked it on top of my “read” pile at home.

After Dad died, I had little time to escape to a book with sorting and finalizing his estate and processing my grief. So that book remained in that pile. Until this summer.

Like Dad, I too studied the front and back cover. When I opened the book to the inside title page, I found a handwritten note from Barbara Fox, one of the authors, who resides in Newcastle, England. It read: “with very best wishes and in loving memory of Enrique.” I had to think about this for a second. My father’s older brother was named Henry and over the years made several trips to that same place. So I began reading, anxious to discover what role my uncle played in this story.

It was 1957, when Gwenda and Patricia, two nurses from Newcastle, England flew to the United States to work for a year at Mount Sinai Hospital in Cleveland, Ohio. Following their contract, they traveled with three other nurses across the country in an old car they called Flotus.

Not more than a few pages into the second chapter, my uncle was introduced. He was known as Enrique and described as a “much-loved” character.  From the lifelong friendship between my uncle and my father, I have no doubt he left an impression on others. And I finally understood why this book was so important to my Dad and why he wanted me to read it.

Gwenda’s parents had kept all of the letters she sent home. Years later, Gwenda shared those letters with her daughter, Barbara, and with Gwenda’s assistance, transposed them into a novel[2]. I thoroughly enjoyed reading about the road trip that Gwenda and her friends took. And I was so delighted to learn about the role that my uncle played in their story.

I smiled when reading Gwenda’s description of Enrique. She referred to him as a “dapper man of slightly oriental appearance with a smooth, round face and lively eyes” and who wore “immaculate tailored shorts.” Yes, that was my Uncle Henry, for sure.

While on summer holidays in the 70s, I visited my uncle and his family in Rossford, Ohio. Dad told me to watch out for a man that resembled himself, only older and more nervous and fidgety. “He’ll be wearing a suit, even though it’s hot,” Dad added. And there he was, waiting at the arrival bay, exactly as Dad and Gwenda have described him and dressed in a suit, despite the hot weather that day.

During their time in the U.S., Gwenda and her friends had found a loyal friend in my uncle.  He became a regular visitor to the hospital apartment she rented with her best friend, Pat. Gwenda shared how Enrique rarely showed up empty-handed, bringing fresh produce from the market and feeding them with his home-cooked meals. During their 18-month road trip, he wrote to the nurses and forwarded their mail. And after he learned they were running out of money, Enrique raised funds to help them.

None of those things surprised me. My uncle was a thoughtful man. When I visited him that summer, he would make sure I was enjoying my stay in little ways. He would ask my cousin Tommy to keep me company on my morning walks to the Maumee River. We would make plans together when he returned from work, and he’d be ready with suggestions on how to spend the next day.

One of my most memorable outings was having a meal at Tony Packo’s, a Hungarian-American eatery. The place was made famous by “Corporal Klinger,” a character in the TV series M.A.S.H. My uncle wanted me to have an authentic Toledo experience, so off we went. It’s been over 40 years, but I’ve never forgotten the evening we spent there.

My uncle was a kind, considerate man and a perfect gentleman. He made an impression on me from the first day I met him as a little girl, so I can understand how he was truly loved by others. When news of Enrique’s engagement reached the nurses, they were a bit surprised and hoped that his future wife was “good enough for him.” But if you’d met Aunt Barbara, you’d know they were equally matched. She was the kindest and most genuine person I’d met, and I was very fond of her.

After my mom died, we sold my parents condo and moved dad to supervised care. It was heartbreaking to sort through the things he shared with my mom, and we couldn’t keep everything.  That was when I discovered a pair of candelabra in sterling silver. I remembered they belonged to Uncle Henry. They just needed a bit of polishing and were too beautiful to discard. So when I read about how Gwenda and Pat had bought sterling candelabras to send to my uncle as a wedding gift, I realized they were the same ones. Now, that to me is an unexpected coincidence. Who would have thought that over 60 years later those candlesticks would carry such a priceless story and that I would end up with them?

We never know where this journey of life may take each of us. We can only hope to be open to the adventures we have along the way, the people that make a difference in our lives and what we choose to leave behind as our legacy to others. My uncle will live on forever in those pages of Bedpans and Bobbie Socksas will all those other special people who brought Gwenda’s letters to life.  I may not have all the answers I sought after finishing this book, but I’m glad I listened to my father and decided to take a read.

 

Postscript:

Not long after I finished reading Bedpans and Bobbie Socks, I wrote to Barbara Fox. I told her how much I enjoyed reading about my uncle and the adventures of Gwenda and her friends. Barbara is an accomplished author and freelance journalist in the U.K. I hope to meet her one day when I make that trip across the pond again. Her mother, Gwenda, is still around, and Barbara and I have shared some stories about Uncle Henry.  Barbara now follows me on my WordPress blogs. How cool is that?

Copyrights (c) 2019 all rights reserved, Jackie Kierulf, writer.

[1]Barbara Fox and Gwenda Gofton. Bedpans and Bobby Socks, (London, Sphere, 2011)

[2]Gwenda’s letters were the primary source source for the book, along with letters from Pat and with assistance from the other nurses and their friends.