Some days my daily life recollections evoke comments, shared
stories or questions. Yesterday, my romantic
Puerto Rico tale brought a swarm of emails asking for the “Rest of the Story”.
Her dad was the head Navy Chaplain in Puerto Rico, so I
hitched a ride to the Navy Station and waited with the SPs at the main gate
till they felt comfortable in calling the house and reporting my arrival. It took another hour for a family car to
arrive, but after a big hug and introductions to her two younger sisters we
started back to the house strategizing the whole way on how to talk her parents
into allowing me to be a house guest.
I remember standing just inside the front door in my unshaven
face, long uncombed curly hair, an old army fatigue jacket and beat up boots as
her dad’s body language suggested I had made a big mistake. My first inclination was to salute. In the
end I won her mother over with my southern charm, and spent the week on
beautiful beaches, riding the waves and watching the full moon dance across the
ocean waves painted across a silver sky - wrapped in love.
That summer, the people who shared their food and lives with me
in the little German community I lived, the orphans I played with and taught to
swim, and my Puerto Rico experience all gave me a better understanding of the
importance of love.
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