Old Friends. New Memories.

Days 42-43--I (Bas) first met Karen while I was on staff at The Salvation Army Harbor Light Center in the South End of Boston.

Karen was a nurse, working in a community-health program serving elderly and homeless people in Boston. She was an amazing force of nature with a huge smile that lit up the room and with a love for people that endeared her to everyone.

Karen loved to laugh. She had immeasurable patience for those she served. She did anything and everything for her patients. For the elderly who had nutrition problems, she taught cooking classes and then everyone ate the things they cooked. For the homeless, she examined feet, washed hair to kill lice, and bandaged wounds. She was a forceful advocate for those she served and for the principles that motivated her. She was unfailingly gracious but people crossed her at their peril.

When Lynn learned that I had invited Karen, and her husband, Wayne, to dinner, she somehow expected to meet a strong, opinionated, effervescent African-American woman. Imagine her surprise when a smiling, dark-haired Armenian-American showed up, with her up-state New York husband, Wayne, in tow.

From our very first night together, the four of us hit it off. Karen and Wayne both loved to laugh. They loved to play cards. They loved their children. They were committed to living lives that made a difference. And, they owned a house about 10 minutes away from ours.

Wayne was a high school social studies teacher who enjoyed teaching and who loved his students. But he ached for a more integrated life in the country, where he could grow something and live deeply with his family and neighbors.

So it was no surprise to us when Wayne announced one day that he had decided to become a cranberry farmer. After buying a small bog and trying things out on a part-time basis for a few years, Wayne decided to go into full-time cranberry farming. And, he took his urban, streetwise, community-health nurse wife and two young children with him.

We remember visiting Wayne and Karen after they had moved to the bog. Wayne was in his glory, fighting false-army cutworms, dodder, and anything else that dared to threaten his precious cranberries. On the side, Karen and Wayne nurtures a pick-your-own blueberry field. Their kids fit right in. In fact, we remember visiting one time and changing Erik's diapers--which were totally blue from all of the blueberries he had sampled that day.

Karen helped farmers to reduce health issues from the chemicals they used in their work. She helped local charities to raise money for important causes. She cared for members of her large, rollicking Armenian family.

Lynn and I ultimately moved away to Wheaton and then to the Pacific Northwest. Our contacts with Wayne and Karen understandably diminished. The occasional phone call, the annual Christmas letter, an infrequent visit.

But, every time we met each other, the laughter was still there. The memories were joyful and rich. It was as if we had never left.

Over the years, the physical demands of farming ultimately led Wayne to sell his beloved cranberry bogs. After touring the country, they decided to purchase a house in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where they live about eight months of the year. They also own a home in Newport, Rhode Island, living in one of the many mansions that dot the area.

Well, actually, Wayne and Karen are one of 11 condo members who each own 700-square-foot condos in this home. Theirs is the top floor.

Karen is always urging us to make new memories, not just talk about the old ones. So, the morning after we arrived, we headed out on a tour of the Newport area in the back seat of Wayne and Karen’s convertible--certainly a new experience for us.

At night, they taught us how to play Canasta (pronounced "Canaster" here in New England.) And, they took us to some of their favorite eating spots. 

It was great to spend time with these dear friends and to learn about what their lives are like now. It was also great to hear about their children. 

Erik is working as a family and youth counselor in Santa Cruz. Julie lives in Boston, where she trains HIV/AIDS and community-health workers in helping skills. She’s now leading these workshops at various places throughout the country and next January, she will serve as a chaplain and trainer at workshops in Uganda.

We had a chance to connect with Julie at our mobile tea shop (the back of our van) at the end of the Orange Line in Boston. 

Julie was coming from a  training session in Boston and we were on our way to see leaves in New Hampshire so we just had a few hours together.

We remember Julie as a fiercely-opinionated, very independent, fun-loving toddler when she stayed at our house for the weekends away that we exchanged with Wayne and Karen when our kids were young..

It was such a joy to connect with Julie as an adult. The fierceness is still there in her frustration and resistance to injustice. She is now an adventuresome eater, unlike the early days when she firmly but politely announced to us at almost every meal – “I don’t eat that.”

Most important, we enjoyed hearing from Julie about her spiritual pilgrimage. Like her parents and her brother, she is doing so much good in the community. She truly wants her life to make a difference for those who are suffering.

At the end of our time, we prayed together—asking God to bless Julie and to place His arms around her as she walked her own spiritual journey.

It’s great to pray with your friends.  It’s even better to pray with their children.