Dancing through the

Thunderstorms

by

LauraMoberg

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She sits at the kitchen table fine greying hair dyed blonde slight hunch in her back. Her nails are sliced almonds and her cheeks a checkerboard each line a memory from a hazy distant past. The kitchen is spacious and bright smelling of the spinach pie baking in the oven. She opens her thin rouged lips, When we were young, oh, how we loved to dance.

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PrologueNewcastleuponTyne,England

1956

TheOxfordwasalivewithelectricityandswingmusic;everywherepartners

shook to the brass instruments and carefree lyrics. It was post World War II, a

vibrant Saturday night, and everyone’s spirits were high. The elegant, enamelled

buildingactedaspartdancehall,partcattlemarketasmanyyoungpeopleclustered

togethertryingtofindsomeonewhosetunefittheirs.

Standingbythewall,awayfromthebustlingdancefloorandbigbrassband,

twogirlswerenothavingmuchluck.

“Comeon,Margaret,givemea turn!”Alicecomplained,snatching thewire-

frameglassesoutofherfriend’shand.

“Oh! But I’ve just spotted Winnie over there, dancing with Ken Ruben!”

Margaretsighed,poutilyadjustingherknee-lengthpeachdress.

Up on the wide, glossy wooden balcony circling the circumference of the

room, Alan Gibson, scouting for girls, sat nursing a pint. One, pretty and demure,

hangingoutbythewall,caughthiseye.Hesmoothedbackhishairandheadeddown

thestairs.

Alicehadjustbegunpeeringintothecrowdthroughthegirls’sharedglasses,

fuzzy,fastmovingshapesturningintodancecouples,whenagroupofboyswalked

past, snickering at her unfashionable spectacles. Alice whipped the out-dated

glassesbehindherbackand,flustered,ranintothebathroom.

Just asAlan squeezed through the crowded stairway andwas straininghis

necktoseethegirl,atall,stockyboyapproachedhim.

“Gibson!Howyadoin’mate?Howlonghasitbin?Ain’tseenyasinceMalays,

wasn’tthataride,mate?”

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Alantriedtosmilepolitely,“How’boutwecatchuplater,Ben?I’vegottogo.”

He pushed the confused boy away and rushed to where he thought he saw her,

desperatelyhopingshewasstillthere.Onlyonegirl,though,waswherehehadseen

two.

Alice stood by the bathroommirror, tearily wiping her face and trying to

tamehershort,curlyhair.Shereapplied foundationpowdertohernose, tryingto

hidetheflushfromcrying,frustratedthatsheletheremotionsgetthebetterofher.

Glassesweren’tsobad,sheguessed;atleastMargaretneededthemtoo.

Alanapproachedtheonegirlandaskedforadance.HeandMargarettwirled

and jived to the music, laughing and chatting. The song reached its climax then

endedinaloudclatterofdrums.Theotherdancersbrokeapart,cheering.

AlanleanedincloserandMargaret’sheartleaped.

“Umm...Canyouintroducemetoyourfriend?”

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LauraMobergVancouver,Canada

2014

People talk about the future like some kind of a hypothetical dreamland

harbouring intimatedesiresandwishes,eachpersonmanipulatingthepresent for

theirdistant future.Whenaskedaboutmy future, Idrawablank.Nothing.Sure, I

know the usual: I want to be financially stable, happy, loved, but anything more

specific than that and my mind starts to cower in fear of the overwhelming

possibilities.IfeelasthoughIamonachartlessboatinthemiddleoftheseawithno

senseofdirection,exceptforthedark,hazyhorizon.

Whatkindofonlinequizornewspaperhoroscopeorpalmreadercanshow

methepathmylifewilltake?Icoulduseapushinaspecificdirection.

Earlierthisyear,Iwasoveratmygrandparents’houseformygrandfather’s

eighty-secondbirthdayandtheever-so-gentlequestionwasonceagainposed:

“Laura,haveyoufinallyfiguredoutwhatyou’redoingwithyourlife?”

Isaid,no,andthenhegavemesomegrandfatherlywisdom:

“Well,you’reaprettycapableperson,youcoulddopracticallyeverythingand

probablyenduplikingit.Soitdoesn’treallymatter,justdowhatever.”

My grandfather always has had a natural determination, fast commitment

andbitterperseverance,stemmedfromanenvironmentofwartimehardshipsand

hardwork.Attwenty-two,hewasalreadyanarmyvet,havingfoughttwoyearsof

compulsoryservice inMalaya.Henever forgot the longdays in thathumid jungle,

battlingChineseguerrillasandleeches.

My grandparentswere almost living theAmerican (Canadian)Dream; they

were immigrants who, against all odds, started a business in their new country,

createdafamily,andweresuccessful.Almost.

Iwonderiftheycouldhaveknown,allthoseyearsago,thatambitionisnot

alwaysprogressandresultscan’tlastforever.

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AliceandAlanGibsonNewcastleuponTyne,England

1956

Whenone isyoung, lifehas infinitepossibilities;one isa luckypearldiver,

eachoysteropened,seductivelydisplayingitsopalescenttreasure.

Alan and Alice were not unlike many couples of their time. They met in

March1956andweresettomarryinMay1957andbeofftostartanewlifeinNew

Zealandbythesummer.Theypreparedfortheirnewlifetogetherwithsparklesin

theireyesandnewloveintheirjoinedhands.

Thenoneday,complications(times2)changedtheirlivesforever.

Alanwassittingatthekitchentable,breakinghishungerwithjellyontoast

andamugofsteamingtea.Apileofmailsatonthetablenexttothemorningpaper,

andAlan casually flipped through the envelopes andbills, still groggy from sleep.

Oneenvelopecaughthisattention–officiallooking,withtheletterheadoftheNew

Zealandgovernment.Itmustbeaboutourimmigrationrequest,Alanthought.Eager

to know the contents, he used his butter knife and sliced the envelope open

smoothly. He skimmed through the formalities, searching for the letter’s main

message:

We regret to inform you that new immigration policies are now in place and we

are no longer able to accept you (Alan Gibson) and you (Alice Hall) as a married couple.

We will still accept you both separately, but unfortunately the situation calls for a

preference to single immigrants. Of course, you are welcome to marry once you arrive in

New Zealand, which, by the way, is beautiful in the spring.

Alan sat, shocked. New Zealand had been their plan from the start;where

would we go now? Alan thought. The New Zealand government, looking for

immigrants from theU.K., offered an assisted fare to the country andas a young

couple, Alan and Alice needed all the financial aid they could get. Even so, they

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would never dream ofmarrying in a new country so distant from all their loved

ones.Itseemedtheirtidygardenpathhadbeentrampledintomud.

Theycouldn’tstayinEngland,thatmuchwasclear,andthereasonseemedso

smallandirrelevantthatonthesurfacewasalmostsilly:theiraccents.

You see, England was a different world then, where the tilt of your

pronunciationdictatedtheopportunitiespresentedtoyou.TheLondonaccentwas

the basis -- posh and unaffected, and as one went further north, one became

increasingly lower on the social scale. My grandparents were Geordies, from

Newcastle, so far north that with his accent, my grandfather knew that the only

attainablejobforhimwouldbeasalabourer,andhestrived,longed,forsomething

better.Withhisapprenticeshipasaprinter,Alandreamedofopeninghisownprint

shoponeday.

SoitwastobecheerioUK,g’dayNZ.Fornow.

Staringatthecorrespondencebeforehim,Alanwasstillprocessingthisnew

development when the black rotary phone on the counter began to ring. Alan

jumpedatthesound.Hepickedupthereceiver,relievedtohearAlice’sfamiliarand

comfortingvoiceontheotherend.

“Alice,Ihavetotellyou–,”hestartedtosaybutwasinterrupted.

“Myfatherisdying,Alan.Wecan’tgotoNewZealand.”

(pause)

“What?”

“Hehascancer(sob).Hisdoctorgiveshimtwomonths,tops...Itoldhimto

goforcheck-ups(hic)whenhisstomachstartedbotheringhimlastyear.Isaid‘Go

tothedoctor’,butheneverlistened,stupidproudman.WhatwillIdowithouthim,

Alan?Oh...”

Alanfelttheenvelopeslidefromhisnowsweatyhand.

Hedidn’tpickitup.Hetriedtosaysomething.

“Alan,whatareyoutryingtotellme?”

“Noworry;it’snotimportant.What’simportantisyourfather.”

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Theweddingwaspushedupsixmonths.Flowerswerehastilyorderedand

thevenueandcateringrushed.Alicevisitedher fathereveryday,bringinghimthe

latest wedding planning news. He grew progressively worse, the cancer now

spreading,buthervisitsseemedtobringhimcomfort.

Her father was, thankfully, able to attend the wedding, arriving in a

wheelchair,andheescortedAlicedowntheaisle,prideoutshiningthecreasesonhis

cheeks,thesicknessinhisbody.Alicecouldnothavebeenhappier.

Whenhepassedafewweekslater,Alicedughernails intoAlan’spalmand

sobbedavery,verylongtime.

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LauraMobergVancouver,Canada

2014

In 1956, the Egyptians decided that they were going to occupy the Suez

Canal,ahighlyimportantpassagefortheFrenchandBritishtogettoIndia.Without

theCanal,BritishshipswouldhavetogoallthewayaroundAfrica.Therewasacall

toarms,andonAlan’sandAlice’sweddingday,theBritishinvadedEgypt.

TheAmericansdidn’tlikethisoffensiveandbeingtheworld’snewpost-war

superpower,theymanagedtoconvincetheBritishandtheFrenchgovernmentsto

stop the attacks. Many Brits were incensed, and felt Britain now couldn’t do

anythingwithoutAmerica’spermission.Manythought,asmygranddadputit,tohell

with this, we’re going to immigrate. Fortunately, my grandparents had already

booked their ship to Canada and the inflated travel costs caused by the wave of

peopleleavingdidnotaffectthemasmuchasmost.

WhatifmygrandparentshadmovedtoNewZealandinstead?Howdifferent

theirliveshavebeen.Andmineaswell.

WhatiftheyhadstayedinEngland?Wouldtheiraccenthavehinderedthem

asmuchastheybelieved?

Whatifmygreat-granddadnevergotsickandtheweddingwasheldinMay?

Would theyhavebeenable toafford immigratingorwould theyhave founda job

aftertheyleft?

WhatifFateisn’taspre-plannedaseveryonethinks?

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AliceandAlanGibsonNewcastleuponTyne,England

1957

Thepubwasamassof shoutsandclankingcutlery; crowdsofbrawlymen

revveduponbeerandsportsurroundedtwotelevisionscreensairingthecurrent

footballmatch.AlanandAlicehad to shout toheareachotheras theymade their

way to a table. Still sweaty from the tennismatch theyhad just finished, they sat

downwitha fewfriends forarelaxingSaturdayafternoon.Their friend, John,and

hiswife,Sarah,joinedthemasthegrouporderedfishandchips,chickenpotpie,and

aroundofdrinks.

“Joan’s back to visit,” John told the group. “She’s been telling us all about

Canadaand’erfamily,fivechildren,Icouldn’timagine...”

John’ssisterwasawarbride;shemarriedaCanadiansoldierduringWorld

WarIIwhenhoardsofsoldiershadbeeninEnglandwaitingfortheirchancetofight.

Aliceperkedup.EversincethedoorshutonNewZealand,allherplanshad

beenputonhold,andsheandAlanhadbeenconsideringalternativedestinations.

“Oh,andhowisCanada?”sheasked.

“Shelovesit,Itellya,saystheweatherisgreat.Onlythingis,they’vegotthis

bloodydaftpolicywhereyagottalineupattheliquorstorean’signabloodypiece

ofpapertoevengetabottleofwine!”

Thegroupalllaughed.

“Well,we’reactuallylookingforaplacetogo,”saidAlan.

“Mysister’d lookafteryou;I thinkshe lives inOttawa.Yea,she’d lookafter

you.”

A few days later, Alan and Alice met Joan, briefly, before she and her

husband, Jack, departed. They relayed John’s assurances, and Joan laughed, “Sure

we’dlookafteryou.Writetouswhenyou’recoming!”

Jack tippedhishatashewalkedup thegangwayonto theirdepartingship,

probablyneverimagininghewouldhearfromthemagain.

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Ottawa-Toronto,Canada1957

Theyarrived in July, thehottestmonthof theyear, and squeezed into Jack

andJoan’salreadycrowdedhome. Jack,asocialist,wasa federalcandidate for the

Co-Operative Commonwealth Federation, the forerunner to the New Democratic

Party,andalwayshadajokeuphissleeve.Joanwasmotherfiguretoall,perpetually

patientandeternallykind.Sincemostofthemoneytheyhadtotheirnamewasused

ontheirten-daysailtoCanada,AlanandAlicetriedtopaytheirstayinotherways,

cleaningthehouseorlookingafterthefivechildrenwhentheirparents’handswere

so full theyweredroppingeverything.Alwaysaware thatwithout Joanand Jack’s

unfailinggenerosity,AlanandAlicewererelievedtheyhadreceivedthisfreshstart.

Theybothsoonfoundtemporaryjobs,AlanataprintingcompanyandAlice

at Bell Telephone. However, after a brief stay, both Alan and Alice couldn’t see a

futureinOttawa,sotheypackedupagain,saidtheirgood-byesandthank-yous,and

headedtoTorontoforanotherfreshstart.

InToronto,AliceimmediatelybeganworkatanotherBell locationandAlan

wenttothePrintingUnionOfficetoinquireaboutajob.Themansmiledandsaid,“I

cangiveyouthreeweeksworkat$110perweek.”

Alanwas astonishedHolyGod, that’samazinghe thought, thenblurtedout,

“Why,that’sgreat.”

“Youknow,I’vehaddozensofpeoplecomethroughhere,butyou’rethefirst

guywhohasthebackgroundI’mlookingfor.”

Alangrinned,“Ah,well,I’vealwaysbeenaluckybastard.”

Anditwastrue;afteralltheirstressandsearching,AlanandAlicefoundthat

Canada was proving to be very kind to them, jobs and living arrangements

presentingthemselveswhentheyweremostneeded.

Ashisthreeweekswasdrawingtoaclose,AlanvisitedRyersonUniversityto

talkwiththeprintinginstructor,whoturnedouttobeafellowGeordienamedSam.

TheysoonbecamegoodfriendsandSamhelpedAlanpostanadvertisementinthe

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Printers’UnionJournal,andwithintheweek,Alanhadtwonewjoboffers,onefor

Montreal,oneforRegina.

Hewasstillworkingathisthreeweekposition,thoughhismindwasalready

anxious for thenewpossibilitiesahead.Atworkonedayhewaschattingwithhis

co-workerastheywheeledpaperfromoneendoftheplanttotheother.

“Twooffers,inoneweek?Man,you’reafortunatefellow,Where’retheyat?”

“OneinMontreal,forClarke-Bates,andoneinRegina,fortheCCF.I’mnottoo

keenongoingoutWestthough.IthinkI’mheadingforMontreal.”

“Wellthen,you’dbemakingabigmistakeAlan.”

“Howso?”

“IworkedfortheClark-Batesguyafewyearsback...He’llpromiseyouthe

moonbutyouwon’tendupthere.Steerclearofthatman.”

So Regina it was, to interview for the position at the Co-operative

CommonwealthFederationpartynewspaper.OnlydaysbeforeAlanflewtoRegina

for the interview, Joan and Jack happened to be passing through Toronto and

thought they’d give their previous tenants a visit.When Jackheard thatAlanwas

applyingtoworkattheCCF,hejumpedstraightupandrantohiscartogethispen

and letterhead.Right on the sport, hepenneda golden account ofAlan’s abilities.

Jack held much influence in the CCF party, even running as an MLA, and his

recommendationwasprobablythedecidingfactorinAlanlandingthejob.

Intheend,theyoweditalltoyouthfulluckandthekindnessofstrangers.

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Thereoncewasagirlwithcurlyblackhair

Whenshewassevenshechippedhertooth

fightingoverthetelephonewithherbrother

Ingrade10shefailedfoodsclass

herpineappleupside-downcakelookedlikemush

Thereoncewasagirlwhowasfulloflife

ShelovedhercatSuzyandhersiblings

eveniftheyalwayssaidshewasadopted

onaccountofherblackhair

Thatgirlisgone

thoughtheghostofherstillhaunts

thefragileshellofmy

mother

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AliceandAlanGibsonRegina,Canada

1958

AlanandAliceonceagaingatheredalltheirbelongingsandtraveledtoanew

part of their new country, this time theprairies, still searching for that oneplace

thatfeltright.

Boardingtheplane, theyclutchedeachother’shand,both inexcitement for

their future and with slight apprehension of being first-time flyers. Immediately

after the lights dimmed in their red-eye flight, Alice was fast asleep, her soft

breathingcalmingAlanashestruggledwithhisnerves.Withall thearrangements

hehadhadtomakeandworkbusiness todealwith,Alan feltas thoughhehadn’t

sleptforyears.

Hewasleaningbackinhisgreencushionedseat,closinghiseyesandwilling

himself to sleep,when the first jolt startled him.He glanced down the isle for an

attendantandsawthatmostoftheotherpassengerswereasleep.OhGod,I’llbethe

onlyoneawakewhenwedie.

Justthen,aflightattendantwalkedoverandeasedAlanwithasmile.

“Don’tworry,we’rejustflyingoverThunderBay.Lookoutyourwindow.”

True to itsname, thebaywasanarrayof lightningandstormclouds,deep

grumblingssoundingfromtheveryheightsofthesky,andrainpleatingdownlike

bullets.

EachboltoflightsentshiversdownAlan’sspine,butnotinabadway.Infact,

hefelthisfeardissipate,replacedbyanoverwhelmingwonderatthisawe-inspiring

displayofnature.

Thismust bemagiche thought as the heavens lit up once again, this time

revealingapeekintowhatlaybeyondtheblacknight.

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JillMobergVancouver,Canada

2001

Businesswasbad,asusual,thoughthiswasoneoftherareoccasionswhere

thephonehadnotmadeapeepallday.Jillkeptglancingoverfromherdeskchairin

frontofherbuzzingcomputermonitor.Once sheevengotup to check if the cord

waspluggedintothewall.Businesswasbad,notthatshewassurprised;December

wasaslowtimefortheweddingindustry,evensuccessfulbusinesses.Jillfilledher

timeworkingonspreadsheetsforthecurrentaccounts,thoughassoonastheclock

hit 4:30, she packed up her belongings and quickly headed out, nodding to her

brotherasshepassedtheprintingpresshewasoperating.

Jillstoppedatherfather’sofficeonherwaytothedoor.

“G,bye,love.”

“Goodbye,Dad.”

“Oh,Momwantedme toremindyouaboutChristmasdinnernextTuesday.

“Iknow,Iknow.I’mbringingpumpkinpie,Ihaven’tforgotten.”

Sheexitedthebuilding,feelinglikeanunseenweighthadbeenliftedoffher

shoulders,acloudofhopelessness.

AsshepulledtheirredCorollaintothedriveway,Jillsawthefrontdooropen

andtwolittleblondeheadscomerunningout.

“Mommy,Mommy!LookwhatDaddyshowedus!”

“Letmeatleastgetoutofthecarfirst,”Jillsaidlaughing.

“It’s a photo of you wearing some weird funny hat,” the little one said,

bouncingupanddownonherheelsasJillwalkedover.

“Hmmm,soitis.Thisismygraduationpicture;IwonderwhereDaddyfound

it,”shesaidasherhusbandCraigsteppedoutontotheporch,cerealbowlinhand.

“It was in a box of junk somewhere in the basement,” he replied, walking

downthestepsandgivingherakiss.

“Mommy,what’sagradluation?”

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“Well, Laura, it’s a celebration after you finishhigh schoolwhere they give

youyourdiploma,that’sthereward,Iguess,forcompletingschoolandthenyoucan

gogetajob!”

“AmIgonnagradlulate?”

“Youbetterhoney,”Jilllaughed.

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LauraMobergVancouver,Canada

2014

Mymomhadbigdreamsforwhenshegraduatedhighschool;shewantedto

becomeateacheroracounsellor,somethingwhereshecouldhelppeople,butlike

me, she was indecisive. She even attended UBC for a year, having received a

significantscholarship,butshedroppedoutwhensherealizedshewasn’tanycloser

tofiguringoutwhatshewantedtodo.Shewassoindecisivethatshewentforthe

easy,expectedwayout:shewenttoworkforherfamily’sprintingbusiness,andthat

iswhatsealedherfate.

Mymomregards thisdecision as themostdetrimental decisionof her life.

She chained herself to a lifetime with this business that was sinking under new

technology as fast as theprinting industry as awhole.Without experience in any

other job,she isn’t likelytogetgoodworkafterthefamilypress inevitablybreaks

down.

Andnowshewaitsforthatday.

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AlanGibsonVancouver,Canada

2014

Itwas a silly thing to do in retrospect.We had four children,and,um,Ican’trememberhowmuchmoneywehad.Weownedanoldcarthatwasverydoubtful,sometimesitran,mostoftenitdidn’t.Becausewewere immigrants,wedidn’treallyhaveabase,therewasnomoneyinthefamilythatwasgoingtocometous fromeither side.Wewere just immigrants like everyoneelse. I had taken a degree in accounting and I wasn’t happywhereIwasworking,alargecorporation;todoanythingIhadto bewilling to gowork in the States, or possibly somewhereelse . . . It was a forestry company so maybe I’d have to gosomewhere else, but I didn’t want to do that. I was happy inVancouver.Butbecause Iwasaprinteressentially, I’dworkedmanyyearsasaprinter, so I came to the idea thatwe shouldstartaprintingbusiness,butanotherthingthathadhappenedtomeinthecourseofmylifewasthatIhadvisitedaspecialtycompany, a specialty company is where they just do certainthings, whereas companies I had worked for would do manythings, various types or printing. But the one I was mostimpressed with simply printed business forms, and they wereincredibly efficient. Imean,because theyweredoing the samething, essentially the same thing over and over again, and Ithought ‘that’s the thing todo’.Moneywas thebig key.Therewasnomoneyso itwasareallydaftthingtodoinretrospect,it’snotthekindofthingIwouldhaveencouragedanyonetodoif I’d been asked. Your Granny didn’t have a close look at itbecausesheknewthatonceI’dmademymindup,this iswhatwewere going to do. [he laughs] So I left the company Iwasworkingforasanaccountantandwestartedinthebasement,bought a couple ofmachines and put a catalogue ofweddingcardstogether.[smiles]

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LauraMobergVancouver,Canada

2014

Iguessintheend,whenlifebeginstoclose,noonecanpredicttheroadlife

willtakeyou;youcanonlydoyoursmall,crucialparttokeepyourselfopentonew

opportunities,andlettheuniversedotherest.

Notthatyoushouldn’tworkhard.Hell,workashardasyoupossiblycan.But

understand that at the end of the day, your actions are only a small factor in the

shapingofyourlife.Externalinfluencesaffectusmorethatwefullyacknowledge.

Iamstillnotsurewhatlifehasinstoreforme,butIamnolongerworriedas

Ioncewas.IknowthatwhereverIproceedIlife,whereverlifetakesme,Iwillhave

theloveandsupportofmyamazingfamily,andthatwillmakeallthedifference.

Sometimes doorways present themselves right on cue; sometimes we are

pushed out a window when we least expect it. Either way, we are progressing

forward.

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RuralSaskatchewan2006

The road stretched before uswith seemingly no end, the horizon flat as a

pancake.Onbothsidesofourcar,wheatfieldsfarintothedistance.Theairsmelled

like heat and dust, kicked up from the gravel road. The only sounds, the dim

mechanical rumbleof theToyotaand the faintbuzzingof insectsswarming in the

hotsummerair.

Wedrove formiles, andmiles, only the occasional roadside attraction of a

payphonetoconvinceusthatourtiresweren’tjustspinninginoneplace.

Withoutanynotice,theskyquietlydarkenedandcloudsbegantocreeplike

lazy ghosts. Suddenly, an immense thunderclap shook the earth and the air filled

withpelletsofhail,showeringtheroofandwindshield.

Out of the darkened horizon, a stunning image appeared: two bolts of

lightningbranchingoutlikeasilhouetteofskeletaltrees,illuminatingthedarkness

withawe-inspiringwonder.

Thisismagic,Ithought.Thisislife.

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EpilogueVancouver,Canada

2014 The longwooden table is crowdedwith serving dishes and decorative fall

centerpieces.Asteadystreamofintertwiningconversationandthesoundsofforks

hitting plates rise up to the whitemoulded ceiling and the heavy, cast iron light

glowsahazy,amber.Thesavouryaromaofgravyandturkey fills theroom,while

thedishes sit patiently.There’s a trayof buns, hotoutof theoven, andabowlof

fluffy,seasonedmashedpotatoes,andapanofasparagusbakedincreamsauceand

sprinkledwithcheese.Andtheturkey,theThanksgivingturkey.

Attheheadtable,AlanandAlicesitproudly,gazingattheirflock.Theyraise

theirglassesandmakeatoast,tothewholefamily,allthenephews,andaunts,and

mothers,andchildren.Anarrayofwineglasses,somefilledwithwine,otherswith

applejuice,clinkabovethefulldiningtable.Eachfacebeamswithjoyandsecurity.

AlanandAlicetakeeachother’shands.

TheyarealongwayfromNewcastlebutstilltheirjoinedheartsdance.

23

Her childhood was coal dust shrapnel treasures blacked out windows sing-a-longs at the movies air raid sirens and bomb shelters Guy Fawkes Day and Yorkshire Pudding a different difficult life tense and restless but now she sits calmly across from me at the kitchen table a story of strength and of hope