In 1972, Helen and I were newlyweds when we moved to Germany to begin our four-year stint in the United States Army. We were both filled with adventure and excitement, which helped overcome the apprehension we both kept inside. We left behind our families and the town where we grew up to begin our lives together in a country that offered an abundance of unknowns.
We moved into a second-floor apartment in a small village outside Wurzburg, Germany. I threw myself into learning the rigors of a new assignment while Helen worked hard to turn our dwelling into a home. Her job had challenges. Our German landlady kept two cows in the stalls under the house, and the smells and the flies gave her fits when the wind blew in a particular direction.
A few weeks after we arrived, we attended a company picnic, where we met many couples who had experienced the same situation of being away from home for the first time. As a result, we made many new friends and remained in touch with some of them today.
While seated at a picnic table, a young lieutenant named Paul sat across from me and began a conversation. He was immediately likable, hilarious, and someone I wanted to get to know well. Eventually, the conversation turned to where Helen and I were living. After telling him, he looked up and said, “Dayna and I are your neighbors.” Fortune had smiled on us that day.
Almost everyone I know has (or should have) friends like Paul and Dayna. We only lived as neighbors for two years, but watching Paul work in the office and at home overwhelmed me with his remarkable energy, which made me feel like a sloth. To say I was impressed is a gross understatement. Even today, when I’m sitting idly in the Man Cave, I tell myself that Paul is probably cutting hay in the field, remodeling his barn, or out and about seeing friends and sharing his sense of humor.
Soon after meeting Paul, we met Dayna, Paul’s lovely wife. They have different personalities. Where Paul is always on the move, working furiously, telling jokes, or spewing expletives that would make a sailor blush, Dayna is a lovely, sweet, and gentle person who adores animals and thrives in her immense garden. They are two halves of the same circle.
The memories of skiing in Austria, driving to wine fests, and discovering Germany together made it inevitable that we would remain friends well into the future. So, on our way home from the West Coast, we asked for and received an invitation to visit them in the Four Corners region of Colorado.
Helen and I have visited them twice and love the beauty surrounding them. They have a fantastic view of the Mesa Verde Mountain Range and Mesa Verde National Park from the back of their home. Their sizable farm is always lush green and manicured. Dayna’s garden is a living tribute to her flower and vegetable gardening skills.
During this visit, I convinced Paul to take a break from expending all of his energy and sit still long enough to re-live some good times and catch up on what’s new in his life. We used his barn, and the conversation went on for hours. I couldn’t tell you what we talked about, except the conversation started here and wound up over there. I’m certain our readers have friendships that are much the same, even if separated by hundreds of miles and decades of years.
Helen spent some time with Dayna in her garden, tending to her peach trees and securing fresh tomatoes for the trip home. They were fabulous.
Our visit was short but delightful. Long-lasting friendships are a treasure, and as we left, I looked back toward their farm. A piece of a rainbow hovered low on the horizon. Treasure lay at the base.
Mortimer says it’s time to be Easin’ Along. Bye, y’all.
