January 6, 2008

About a century and a half ago, a Scottish woman named Emma Kellum moved to the United States and married a man with the last name Johnson. The Johnson family had emigrated from England sometime in the eighteenth century, to settle in those exciting new colonies of the New World. How they ever wound up in Texas is a great mystery lost to history.

Miss Kellum's surname was passed on to a descendant, whose son is...me. It's a great conversation starter—"Where's your name from?" In 43 years, I've never been to the land of my ancestors, but that's about to change.

Which is all a not-so-sneaky way of announcing... ahem ...*takes a deep breath*

I'm coming to England!!!!!

In April, two of Suzi's best friends will be getting married (to each other) in Devon. I chose to tag along, come to the wedding, and spend two weeks hanging out, seeing sights, meeting some noders, and generally getting to see another country.

I will be arriving in England around 20 April and staying in London for two weeks, seeing the sights, and hanging out with my friends. This should be a big exciting adventure for a Texas boy who has never been outside the land of his birth.

I hope some of my Britnoder friends (and maybe even some of my Euronoder pals as well!?!?) can come to London during this time. The Debutante says there might be some kind of fun London alcohol-fueled noder monkey business in the offing...I tell you, I can hardly wait!

She didn’t smile like other people. She did it with her eyes, which would seem to twinkle. Even when she wasn’t smiling, you could see warmth and kindness in those eyes. Her voice was incredibly sweet, a bit like a girl’s, but mature. She had amazing blond hair, which I only ever saw pulled back into a bun. I really wanted to see what she looked like with her hair down, but maybe I wouldn’t be here to tell you if I’d seen it.

The day that I found out I likely would never see her again was one of the worst days of my life. For two days at least, I was completely numb, and was sure the world had ended. What really tears me up is that I never got to say goodbye. Being a coward, I never told her how I really felt.

She never complained about her job or life. I never once heard her make a derogatory remark about her co-workers, or anyone else for that matter. I respect her all the more for that, because I know that is something I would never be able to do. I never saw a frown on her face, never saw weakness or exhaustion there either. When I had an allergic reaction to my medication, she noticed before anyone else (even me) and got help. I once heard a patient tell her that he wouldn’t be back for awhile. When she asked him why, he told her that he liked her too much. I found that incredibly funny and a bit disturbing, because it was something that I might have truthfully told her.

Even before I found out about her past, I obviously already thought she was an amazing woman. She faced, beginning at an early age, an enormous amount of adversity. I have faced some of the same kind of adversity that she has, and never would have dreamed that we might be alike. Going back to her never having shown weakness on her face, it amazed me even more because of the adversity she was still facing. God knows I couldn’t keep my weakness from showing.

Wherever she is, my one hope is that she is happy. I hope her husband knows how lucky he is to have her as a wife (I am sure he does). I hope that they have the child they've been waiting for, and together they all have a wonderful life.

Update: January 12: I read a poem in English class yesterday (Friday). Fifteen minutes into my IV therapy, she came in, back for a visit. It was only today that I realised the poem I had read in English class only a few hours before my appointment had been one I had written about her. Somehow, I seemed to have unknowingly made an invocation, and apparently someone upstairs was listening.