“May we join your table,” we asked the father and young son. Allan, the father,
immediately said, Yes. “Are you from Nixon or Trudeau Country?” he queried knowing
we were North Americans. There, in the Queenstown, NZ TravelLodge dining room, our decades- long friendship
began that July. I mentioned about wishing to go skiing too as they were Coronet Peak
bound. Although I didn’t have appropriate attire, Allan offered a solution. “Use Norma’s
parka,” he said about his wife’s jacket.
Columnist Marty Coffin Evans
We traveled the shelf road, reminiscent of Eldora, to that ski field. After a token effort at
skiing, we headed back to town. Allan suddenly stopped the car. “Get the Christmas
Cake out of the boot,” he told son Michael. Sitting there in the middle of the road, we
enjoyed our cake and tea amidst the softly falling snow.
Over the decades, we sent calendars – theirs from NZ and ours from either my
Colorado or California homes. Soon, visits became added to our incidental meeting,
these times with mom Norma and later with Michael as well.
One time, we watched Princess Diana’s funeral service in our home before heading to
Long Beach to board the Great White Steamer for Catalina Island. We later shared
Palm Springs and the Tramway.
After we moved back to my Colorado home, Vail became an added experience. Meeting
in Taos. New Mexico later became another adventure.
Over these years, we’ve shared our friends, vacation spots, stories, meals, miles of
laughter, and, Christmas Cake in their Christchurch home. With Norma now gone and
Michael, married with two young children, we’ve still stayed connected.
Recently I called Allan on his 95th birthday. We picked up our conversation as though
time hadn’t passed.
How fortunate we were to ask to join their table those years ago. You never know where
answers will lead.
Martha (Marty) Coffin Evans, Ed.D., is a freelance writer with MACE Associates, LLC.
She can be reached at itsmemartee@aol.com.