Joy

Mary Canaan called me Monday night. You know how it is when years later you try to have a conversation with somebody you were once close to - the awkwardness, the uncomfortable silences. Forty years ago, we were best buddies, Mary and I. And while it is unlikely that we will ever be best buddies again, we chatted away for an hour or so without pause. Of course, catching up after forty years gives us a lot to talk about, but the trust we shared back then was still solid.

I came away smiling clear down to my toenails. More than my own joy at finally finding and reconnecting with my little friend, I seem to have brought a great deal of joy to Mary and all of her brothers and sisters. Mary was in tears when she first realized that it was really me sending her messages through Facebook. She has been greedily absorbing all of the memories of that time that I provide. There is no joy greater than giving joy to someone you care about. The Canaan family was pretty much all I cared about during those two years. Evidently I still do.

Years before the term "clinical depression" came into vogue, I had it. From 1966 until 1977 there was a perpetual dark cloud over my life. My association with the Canaan family was the bright spot in my life. Leo loved me like a son and trusted me completely. His wife Norma liked me and trusted me as well. They seemed to naturally involve me in the life of the family. Leo always included me in his big plans for the West Virginia venture. The kids also seemed to accept my intrusion into their world, and Danny and Mary were my special friends. I spent quite a bit of time with each of them.

For four decades I've lived with the fact that in November of 1973 I slunk away from the best part of my life. The Canaans were my life back then.They gave me a shining light of love and hope when the rest of my world was so dark and gloomy. And after the end, I sank down into a deep dark hole that only got darker and deeper for the next three years.

It's a good, healing thing to be able to radiate some joy around those memories. Thank you, Mary. And thank you, Leo, wherever you are.