We are not quite sure how it happened, but we met Rita only at Ken's Mother's funeral in 1986, even though they married in 1972. Ken knew Ian as a kid and one year Ken lived with Ian's family in Sudbury where Ken worked at the mine where Ian's father worked. Ian was five years younger than Ken, and when the brothers Ray and Ian visited Grandma Dickie in Parry Sound, Ian hung out with Keith while Ken played with Ray. But since we first met at the funeral, we have become fast friends.
It was really stupid because Rita and Ian lived in Pittsburgh in the late seventies while we lived in Maryland and went to our farm most weekends, which was half way to Pittsburgh. Their children were grown up before we met them, so we missed all those years together. But we are not missing them now. Rita is everything I am not. She is a good cook and she makes quilts. She babysits for her grandchildren. She speaks French. In the kitchen we make a marvelous team. I suggest and Rita does it, quick as a wink.
Ian works on our wheel every day, bit by bit getting rid of the smoke and charred wood. We are having fun watching it get clean. And we are enjoying our visit with Rita and Ian, making up for lost time.
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