Jean was a
fellow member of Mrs. Waters’ (1959) 4th grade class. And while I
don’t recall forming a close attachment at the time, I did invite her to my 10th
birthday party, and remember the mile walk from the school to my “project style”
house located at 670 Formosa Avenue.
Time wound
its proverbial way under the bridge, we attended primary and secondary school
together, graduated from the same high school, and dated one another during our
first year of community college. As providence would have it, however, we both
chose, (or were chosen by) someone else, married, and another decade passed.
And oddly
enough, life threw us back together when, (independently of one another) we
both divorced in the summer of 1980. We have surmised that since, by this time,
we had known one another for a full twenty years, neither of us saw any great
wisdom in procrastination.
And, my
readers, as you might well have guessed,
… we were
married.
Another
three and a half decades passed, and as I was sitting in my living room, and
Jean was seated at the dining room table, just behind a half wall, she queried,
“Aren’t you
related to the Dowling’s?”
To which I
responded,
“Well, yes,…
why, why do you ask?”
(Another
question followed the first).
“Are you
related to Jabez and Rebecca Dowling?”
(My
curiosity was peaked now).
“Yes. They
were my 4th great grandparents.”
(A long
pause).
“Uh, well,
they were also my … 4th great grandparents!”
(Can anybody
say, “kissing cousins?”)
By this
time, my wife and I had known one another for well over half a century, and we
were just now finding out we are 5th cousins.
A few
additional months, and Jean and I were watching a movie on television, (or
discussing the weather, or just “one thing or the other”) and, for no apparent
reason, I glanced down at my wife’s left, inner wrist, and noticed
… something
very familiar to me.
For about
two inches below where wrist and hand meet,
… was a
small blood blister.
Now,
obviously there is nothing especially strange and wonderful about a blood blister,
except yours truly sports a
… duplicate
blood blister on my same wrist, and in the exact same spot!
And we have
half-jokingly referred to it as, “The Dowling Blood Blister.”
(The jury is
“still out,” but remind me to check out the wrists of a few more of our
relatives sometime).
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 21. Copyright pending
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