Finding – and marrying – the right travel partner
Sometimes memory is selective. Maybe filtering out what it considers to be inconsequential experiences, ideas, and bits of knowledge. Housecleaning, as it were. In any event, although I’ve frequently told myself and others that I first met my now husband at Easter time in 1981, in fact I’d met him not once but twice before. Evidently those times didn’t ‘count.’ But for the record, here’s the truth. Well, as I recall it now, some 45 years later. One of the paintings for my Velito story In the fall of 1979 I was still ‘just back’ from a six month solo adventure in South America. I was slowly – very slowly – adjusting to the cultural shock of re-entering a society and culture that seemed, to me, to have too much of everything but still wanting more. I had no fixed address, but was temporarily staying at a lakeside resort on Salt Spring Island. I spent my days writing and painting an allegoric...