Jack’s next few posts are a bit personal – – –

People often ask how Wendy and I met and ended up married. I mean – age difference, from different sides of the Atlantic, she’s a storyteller and I’m a singer, etc. (Although I will say she’s become a great singer and my song introductions have turned into full-blown stories!)

Our meeting is quite a story and I’ll tell as much of it as possible over the next few weeks in the lead up to our 25^th Anniversary.

In July 1995 with my musical buddy George, I was playing a Celtic festival in Jonesboro, Tennessee and staying with friends nearby who had helped arrange the booking. Recently divorced, the last thing on my mind was to get into another relationship. But there she stood on the other side of the square with two small children in tow that I recognized as the very young son and daughter of the friends I was staying with. They asked her to come for an evening get-together with a few other friends and said I had lots of stories. It turned out that she was a storyteller!

She arrived with a cassette recorder and proceeded to capture the whole evening on tape. During the soiree it was obvious to everyone else that I was smitten, despite all my attempts to hide it (there was much hilarity at various points much to my embarrassment).

There was some talk of us all going to visit her at the cabin she was staying in out in the woods. George and I had various other gigs in the area so we were staying with our friends for another few days. But as the days passed I wondered when I would see this beautiful kindred spirit again. Every day I gently (I thought, anyway) brought up the subject but couldn’t get any sign it was happening until the very last day (of course everyone else was enjoying the drama as I grew more and more insistent!). We sat on her porch and chatted amiably then she served us a great lasagna! I wrote out the words of a song she liked and all around the edge I wrote my contact details.

George and I headed off the next day to Maine for more gigs and when we got there the first thing I did was send her a postcard. Meanwhile our friends explained that they usually phoned me to make sure I’d arrived back safely to my home in Scotland. When my phone rang it was Wendy who’d been urged to take on the task. I was so surprised I hung up on her – but luckily she called again.

Next week – the saga continues, to Newfoundland – – –