It's a Small World, After All

 I was wandering around in the dank tunnels where I store my computer files looking for any forgotten writing I could use as a post. There's a lot of junk down there, and I ran across several items I did not remember. At first, I thought they were things I had posted here because they were in a file marked blog posts. They're dated, so I looked them up. Nada. 

That made no sense, but when I checked the dates, I realized I must have posted them on the old Multiply site. It was a social media site in the early 2000s. I thought they had transferred over when the site closed and I did an import, but a search didn't produce them. 

So, I'm going to share them now. You will see when they were first posted. 

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10th August 2006, 2:01 a.m.

We were stationed at Fort Bragg, N.C. in 1980, just outside of Fayetteville. We had just come back from a two-year stint in Frankfurt, Germany, with our new baby boy. For a time we lived on the "economy", meaning that we lived in the community, outside the base. After a year, we got base housing.

We found a great church in Fayetteville. The pastor was Jesse Williams. It was a large church but your typical military church. Lots of people from all over, and some locals. We made friends with a couple, Debbie and Bob Bagwell. They were our age, had a child of their own, and lived on the base. We hung out with them for a bit.

One evening we were taking a trip to Raleigh to hear David and the Giants sing. This was a group of Christian young men. During the drive, we got to talking about the guys we had dated. I told them about Johnny, a guy who had joined our church about two years before I met my husband.

In the summer of 1971 or 1972, someone converted Johnny W***** to the Apostolic Pentecostal faith. And he showed up one summer day and joined my church. He was a nice guy, older than me by probably 6-8 years. I was only 15 at the time. And he could sing!

Four girls, myself included, sang together at my church. And Johnny joined us. It was a hit. He was a tenor and a good one and could harmonize, something we four girls had not mastered well. Everyone loved our singing.

During his time with us, he asked me on a date. Why Mama let me date a guy who was probably in his early 20s is beyond me. But I suspect it was because he was a member of the church and she felt comfortable with him. He really was a nice guy. Very respectful and courteous. Everyone liked him.

Now, let me just say, Johnny was not good-looking. He wore glasses that looked like Coke-bottle bottoms. His teeth had spaces, and while they were not rotten, they looked as if he never brushed them. He just didn't have any good looks to speak of. But he was a nice guy. 

So just before school started, he asked me to go skating with him. I said sure. I assure you, I never found him attractive. He was a friend, and we sang together; that’s how I viewed the date. If he had tried to kiss me, I would have balked. Even the thought of it bugged me. We went skating, and on the way home he held my hand, but all I could think of was, no way was I going to let him kiss me.

A few weeks after the date, Johnny just stopped coming to church. I saw a mutual friend at school and asked about him. She said, "He got married two weeks ago." I did a double take and said, "I just went out with him a month ago!" We were shocked. She knew who he had married, and that they had been dating for some time. I guess he forgot to tell me, but hey, we were just friends anyway.

I never saw him again until about two years later, probably in 1973. He had joined the army and was home on leave with his wife. They visited the church one Sunday morning. They had a new baby. I don't think he even spoke to me. Well, he used to be a nice guy, but oh well. I wasn't worried.

So, that was my story to Debbie as we drove toward Raleigh. But then she started asking me questions about where I was from and details about Johnny. Then she told me her story. And what a story!

After leaving Andalusia, Johnny W***** was stationed in Alaska. Her father was the Pastor of the church. Johnny had worked in the church with his wife, had been a really good guy with a good military career. Everyone liked him. But something happened in the late 70s. Johnny W***** received a prison sentence for rape. As of 1980, he was still in prison. Her father still visited him and tried to counsel him. 

I don't know if I can convey my shock. I was stunned. I couldn't believe that the guy I had spent an entire evening alone with in another town, because Andalusia had no skating rink, was arrested for rape.

And what are the odds that I would leave a small Alabama town, travel to Europe for two years, end up in N. Carolina and meet a woman from Alaska who knew someone that I knew! I should have been a gambler back then.

Mama, well, Mama must have been rolling over in her grave. But maybe not; Mama was a firm believer that God took care of us. I suspect she was right. Johnny and I had no spark, and that was probably a good thing.

You know, he was such a nice guy.