Olympic Mountains with their winter coat of snow, as seen from Port Orchard, Washington (Wikipedia)
Several years ago I got into conversation with author Lauraine Snelling in which I mentioned my family had visited Washington while on vacation.
“What part of Washington?”
“Silverdale. It’s on the Kitsap peninsula across Puget Sound from Seattle.”
Lauraine grinned. “I know it well. I grew up there.”
My family lived there for four years and so we swapped stories. Inevitably, I asked where she lived in a town that was still pretty small during our residence.
“On Old Frontier Road, the west side. I used to ride my horse into town,” Lauraine said.
Lauraine Snelling
Of course she did. Old Frontier Road isn’t far from town. I knew that because we lived on Old Frontier Road!
Old Frontier Road is not that long, maybe three or four miles, and Lauraine’s family had a farm on the northern end. I could picture the house.
We lived there many years later in a new house on the south end of the rural road.
I love these “what a small world” connections!
A France connection
Nine month later, my family traveled to France to celebrate our son’s graduation from college. We spent a day in Normandy where we hired battlefield guide Ellwood von Seibold to walk us along the beaches stormed on D-Day.
It was a sobering, and enriching experience of thoughtful reflection.
But the guide overbooked, and five women joined us on this expedition.
When we realized we’d be spending the day together, I introduced my family and started a conversation while von Seibold sorted out the transportation.
The women were leading a five-day prayer retreat starting the next day. Normandy was the only “fun” excursion they had planned.
I was pleased we’d spend a long day with women of like minds.
But even more like-minded then I suspected.
They were absolutely charmed to meet a new graduate of the University of Washington.
Where were they from?
Washington.
What part?
Silverdale. “A town on the Kitsap peninsula across Puget Sound from Seattle.”
It only took us three or four tries to find mutual friends.
But when I described where we had lived, one woman’s eyes got wide.
You guessed it. She lived on Old Frontier Road!
Of course she knew my house.
“I don’t understand,” the battlefield guide said when he returned. “I thought you people didn’t know each other.”
“We’re from the same town.”
“What?” He got over the surprise, but the look on his face was priceless. (The tour, by the way, was excellent. We recommend him!)
We had a splendid day together. Lauraine laughed when I told her.
Lauraine Snelling and me
I thought about that connection when Lauraine and I (along with seven others) signed to write novellas for The Pioneer Christmas Collection coming out in September.
In honor of our mutual past, I opened my story in Silverdale, Washington, though The Gold Rush Christmas moved to Alaska by chapter three.
I chortled over that first chapter until I did my final research to make sure all the historical data was correct.
My three young adventurers needed to be desperate to leave behind their childhood home and head for the excitement of the Alaskan gold rush.
Alas. Silverdale was not a town in 1897. They could not have come from there.
So, I moved the setting south to Port Orchard, Washington, home of another acquaintance, Debbie Macomber. Port Orchard had the mill job a frustrated Peter detested.
I’m just sorry our beloved Silverdale (now the shopping center of the region) didn’t fill the bill.
I love surreptitious encounters like my Silverdale tales. Have you ever met people in unexpected places?
We have 4 families from Our Savior that moved to Silverdale in the last 10 years or so. We visited 2 years ago and 3of them (one mom and 2 kids) attended the NYG in San Antonio in July with our group! The pastor at Evergreen was also an OSLC member in the late 90s
In the 1700’s, two brothers moved from Turkey to Gaza. One decided to go on to Alexandria and soon, all contact was lost. Each family kept the name of the other brother in their memory, for a hope that one day the family would reunite.
In 1964, one of the descendants of the Gaza ancestor, moved to Vancouver, and in 1975, he married my mom and adopted me, my brother and my sister.
In 1993, at a park in Ontario, Canada, we joined a church picnic at the invitation of the pastor, who had been a missionary in Alexandria, where my Gaza-born dad had done engineering. But even in 4 years of school, Dad had not found a trace of the old family in Alexandria.
We arrived at the park and I saw a table of people and said to my husband, “they’re Arabs.”
“How can you tell, they might be Mexican.”
“Oh, please.”
A few minutes later, the pastor introduced us and said “this is Elias and Elizabeth Zarifeh.”
“WHAT???”
Elias looked at me, and grumbled “You have a problem with my name?”
Now, the pastor did not know me well at all…certainly not my full name.
I gasped some more and said “My maiden name is Zarifeh!”
“WHAT???”
We ran through our family trees and when we got home, I called my dad.
It turns out Elias was the descendant of the lost brother.
Almost 300 years later, in a park in Canada, Elias and I put the Zarifeh Clan back together.
Oh, fantastic! What a glorious story and blessing!
Thanks for Shaun, I’ll be thrilled all day long.