A Chronicle of Family

Do children want to know about the

first time their parents met, and how

it all happened to be? Some do, I

suppose, and some don’t.

As a child myself once, it did not

seem all that important, as I figured

the parents assignment to me was

always meant to be.

And the result of that union, my two

brothers I came to be. I was told then

God had something to do with all that.

As I grew, I do recall praying for peace

and unity in our family which never

came to be.

Now to my children I can say, your

mother and I met in a German gast-

house one night. Call it fate or coin-

cidentally, the right or wrong place

at the right or wrong time, who can

rightly say?

She sat alone, and I left my army

buddies drinking their beer to ap-

proach her and introduce myself.

And you now how it usually goes,

one thing leads to another.

We chatted over drinks and set a

date to meet with each other again.

And so on and on it went where

some good times and not so favorable

ones ensued. Our story was not so

different than most get-togethers go.

That was way back when, oh you know,

now more than fifty-years ago. All you

came to understand is that after many

rocky years of marriage together, your

mom and I went our separate ways.

In any case, suffice it to say, we saw

the world and how it was supposed to

work a whole lot differently. And here

we are today, each in our own time

and place. You, my children, are grown

now with families of your own.

And I suppose the particulars of how

your mother and I met, the when,

where and how eventually it all came

to be is now a moot case for history.

Whatever I can remember, whatever it is

I can tell you is that time, the good and the

bad, finds a way in passing. And what I may

have to say today is but a faded and dusty

chronicle in my personalized memory.

Besides, between you and me and at best,

it happens to be only half the story.

Chris Hanch 3-29-19