Time passing as men pass who never will come back again…
And leaving us…with only this – Knowing that this earth,
this time, this life are stranger than a dream…

—Thomas Wolfe
_______________

The email popped in one day last summer, sometime in early July. From a reader. Which was not at all unusual, and still isn’t. I’ve heard from people from a lot of different places. Mostly from this country, of course. But also from far places like China, Japan, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Australia, Mexico, and several European countries. From people who downloaded my book on the internet, and wrote to tell me about it. This message was a little different, though. It was a bit longer than most. And, more startlingly, it was from a professor in Germany.

Her name was Dr. Sabrina Völz, and she taught at Leuphana Universität in Lüneburg, way up north. She had read the book and was touched by my story, she wrote. And she was intrigued by the literary aspect of it. She told me a bit about herself. She teaches English and North American Studies, teaching those who will teach English. And she went on. In her academic research, she focused on ethnic literature and culture in North America, and the American short story.

Wow, I thought. Now that’s a small world, right there. A professor in Germany read my book. A professor. And she wrote to tell me. How cool is that? She wasn’t done there, though. The email went on.

She’d like to interview me, she wrote, if I’d be willing. Either by email or in person. She was traveling to New York City in August with her husband and children. Would it be possible to meet to talk, if she came to Lancaster County? She didn’t want to infringe, but she really would like to use the interview to teach a seminar there at the University. And maybe write an article to be published, too. What did I think? Would it be possible to meet?

Well, yeah, I thought. Sure it’s possible. It’s remarkable, too. An email from a professor in Germany who had read my book. And she wanted to interview me. Of course I would. I get two or three interview requests a month, mostly from students writing research papers. From grade school to post-graduate level. Mostly the interviews are done by email, although once in a while I’ll give someone half an hour of my time of an evening on the phone. I have never turned anyone down. I’m not out there looking to get interviewed but if you have a legitimate reason to ask, I’m always honored. And I’m not just saying that. I really am. But Dr. Völz wasn’t quite done, yet. The email went on.

I read on your blog where you travel some to give book talks, she wrote. It would be great if you’d consider coming to Germany. I could easily get you booked at my University and a few others in the surrounding area. I don’t know if you’ll travel that far, though. And I thought to myself. Germany? Travel to Germany? Fat chance I’ll ever do that. It would be wild, though. But I’m sure the cost would be way out there prohibitive. Plus, I’d have to take time off work. And that’s what I told her in my response. Sure, I’ll talk to you when you’re traveling through. I’d be honored. I have some Amish friends I could introduce you to, if they’re home that day, that is. I’ll find out. But traveling over to talk at your University? That’s a little far-fetched. I’m pretty happy right here where I am.

We emailed back and forth a few more times. From the start, she insisted that I call her Sabrina, not Dr. Völz, as I had addressed the first message. OK, if you insist, I said. I’m always hesitant to do that, to not recognize a degree someone has worked hard for. And one Saturday afternoon in late August, we met at The Back Page, a nice little pub in Leola. I got there first and waited by my truck. And soon enough, a little mini van pulled in and parked. A tall man unwound himself from the driver’s side. Sabrina got out of the passenger’s side and walked up to me, smiling. We shook hands and she introduced me to her husband, Hans-Jürgen and their two school-aged children, Maximilian and Emily. After chatting a few minutes and posing for a pic, Sabrina and I walked into the pub while her husband and children left to cruise the area for an hour or so and see some sights.

With Dr. Sabrina Völz.

We got along quite well from the first moment. Just chatted along. She asked about the book, how it came to be. And I told her. My blog brought it to me. After a bit, she set up her little recorder on the table, and off we went, for the official interview. Which used to make me a little skittish, early on, having a recorder sitting there latching onto your every word. But it doesn’t anymore. You have to relax and be yourself. Speak what you know, what you believe, what’s in your heart. Sure, you might stumble and say something that doesn’t come out right. But if you do, you can correct yourself. That’ll be recorded too, I figure.

In about an hour, we were done. Sabrina handed me her hard copy of the book and I signed it. She had a real hard copy, not the electronic version. I was surprised and pleased, not that there’s anything wrong with any version. But still, a real book is a real book, I’ve always felt. Something that you can take and hold in your hands. I like that. And we chatted again for a few minutes.

“You know,” she said. “I wasn’t kidding when I asked if you would come to speak at the University. I think I could get the funding to bring you over. But you didn’t seem that interested. Would you consider it, if I can get you over there?”

And I laughed. Look, I said. I’m very content where I am. But if you get funding for the trip, of course I would come. I’d be stupid not to. I just would never expect such a thing. I mean, what chance is there of that happening? But I’ll come. Oh, yeah, I’ll come. I’ve never been to Europe. Never. If you get it done, get me over there to talk about my book at a few Universities, I could even boast that I’m an international lecturer. That’s a joke, that last thing I said, there.

She laughed, too. “You might be surprised,” she said. “I’ve done it before, brought an author over to speak. And your story is unique enough that I think it might work. I’m going to try when I get back home. I’ll start filling out the applications. I actually think there’s a pretty good chance. I’ll keep you updated.”

That’s great, I said. I really appreciate your confidence, and that you think my book is worth all that effort. But I won’t look for anything until I see it coming.

Her family had returned, and they all followed me the few miles to the home of my Amish friends. I had asked them, a few weeks before. Would you like to meet some folks from Germany? They’ll be here, and I know they’d sure love to meet some real Amish people. I’d love to bring them over. And my friends said what they usually say to my off-the-wall requests. Bring them on. We’ll make coffee.

We arrived, and were genuinely welcomed, as I knew we’d be. My friends invited us into their home, and we sat around the kitchen table, talking and drinking coffee and lemonade and eating pretzels and cheese and cookies. I had planned on staying only a few minutes, but we all got along so well that before we knew it, more than an hour had passed. Sabrina and her family told us what it was like, to live in northern Germany. The customs, how things went, the cost of a house. And my friends told them how it was to live as Amish in Lancaster County. You can’t get all that much said in a little over an hour. But we made the most of the time we had. And we all enjoyed the company of each other.

The Völz family at the table of my Amish friends.
Sabrina is signing the guest book.

They left then, heading out to their next stop. And I thought back to that day more than a few times, how cool it was, to have someone like Sabrina and her family show up to meet me and my friends. And sure enough, a week or three later, here comes another email.

Thanks for your hospitality, she wrote. We all enjoyed meeting your friends very much. And thanks for interviewing with me. Now, here’s the info I’ll need to fill out that application. Full name, address, and so forth. I sent her what she asked for. And life just went on, as it does. I stayed busy living it.

A week or two later, she emailed that she had submitted the application. Keep your fingers crossed. I’m hopeful, she wrote. Yes, yes, I wrote back. It would be hugely exciting, but don’t worry if it doesn’t work out. I expect nothing. And there’s where things rested for a while.

And then, right at two months ago in early January, here comes another email. A very happy one. She got the funding, Sabrina wrote. It came through. The trip was on. All expenses paid. A place to stay. And three book talks at three different places, plus a stipend for each talk, yet. I had half believed her earlier, when she told me she had a good shot at getting it through. But still, there’s nothing like seeing it right in front of you on your computer screen.

And I just sat there at my desk at work and stared at her message. She had really done it. I was going to Germany. I have never been to Europe. Never. Which probably makes me a hick to some people. But it was never that high on my bucket list. Sure, I always figured it would all work out someday, somehow, that I’d get there. But I’d never fretted much about it, exactly how it would happen. It was just one of those things you know. And now the book was taking me. It took a bit, to absorb the enormity of all that.

I never bother my friends in the publishing world much. Never have, never will. Those people live in a world so far removed from mine that sometimes I think it’s another planet (a good planet, just not the one I’m on). But that day, I wrote a little note and sent it to my agent and a couple of my good friends at Tyndale. Hey, I want to share this joy with you. Look what’s happening. The book’s taking me to Germany. I’m speaking at a University. In Germany. I’ve never even been to Europe. Now the book’s taking me. How wild is that? And they all wrote back. It’s quite wild indeed. Congratulations.

I had another thing on my mind, though, and wrote back to Sabrina. Thanks very much. This is unbelievable. Now, let me ask this. Would it be possible to get my return ticket a week later than my stay in Germany? I’d like to travel on over to Switzerland on my own, to check out the areas my Anabaptist ancestors came from. Sabrina answered immediately. No, that should not be a problem.

And we worked out the schedule. I’ll be leaving in early May, returning in mid May. The first week, I will be with Sabrina and her family and colleagues. I’ll be speaking at the University and a few other locations. I think I’m speaking in a couple of classes Sabrina teaches. And maybe at a high school. I’m not exactly sure of the schedule at this point. Whatever is lined up for me will be fine. And right now, I’m not nervous about any of it, because I haven’t thought about it much. I will, though, as the time gets closer. Things like, how do you address a group whose primary language is not English? I think most people at the University speak and understand English. Should I speak slower? And I wonder if anyone over there would understand my PA Dutch.

The next weekend, I’ll take the train to Switzerland. I haven’t really figured out where all I’ll be going, yet. Definitely I want to see some sites that are historically significant to the Amish and Mennonites, like where Felix Manz was drowned. And maybe some castles with dudgeons. I want to check it all out, so see the spots where all that terrifying stuff happened that I saw and read in the Martyr’s Mirror as a child. I want to walk where my forefathers walked, hundreds of years ago. And I want to see the ground on which they stood when the state condemned and murdered them.

I’ve been around long enough to know that nothing happens until it happens. Despite all the best laid plans, tomorrow is promised no one. I always try to keep in mind, as something big like this approaches, that something could go wrong. It just could. Mom could leave us the day I’m scheduled to fly over. It could be anything. But last week, Sabrina sent my eTicket, so we’re that far along. That’s when I figured it’s safe to write the story here on my blog. The story of how it all came down so far.

And yeah, I’m flying. Got no other option. The TSA goons are gonna get their paws on me. I’ll have to grit my teeth and take it. When it comes to flying, I’ve always had an exception for funerals, emergencies, or something really big. I figure this is something really big.

I still haven’t fully absorbed it all, that this trip is really happening. I won’t, until the day gets a lot closer. A week out, I’ll start freaking for real. This is uncharted terrain for me, a huge adventure. And yes, it is just flat out wild, the whole thing. Another wild strange stop on a wild and strange and beautiful road.

And I look at it all and wonder. What were the chances that a person in Germany would pick up my book and read it, a person like Dr. Sabrina Völz, who had the clout and the connections to do what she did to get me over there? I’d say they were extremely remote, if you look at random chance alone. Maybe it was more than that. I don’t know.

I am proud of the book, proud of the accomplishment of actually getting it written and having it published. I’m proud of all it has been and all the good things that have flowed from it. But still, I am who I am. A guy just walking along, trying to describe as best I can the world around me and the things I have seen and lived. And all I know is that I walk forward into this journey as I’ve tried to walk, these past few years. With joy and with thanksgiving, but mostly with a grateful heart. That’s the one thing that’s kept my head half straight, this last while. Simple gratitude to God for the host of astonishing blessings He has poured into my life. And continues to.

One of these days, this little ride that is the book will end. I’ll look around, a bit startled, probably. Where am I? What just happened? I might have to pinch myself to make sure it wasn’t all one long, beautiful dream. And then I’ll get off and go right back to being who I was before. Just with a little more world experience.

It’s been quite a ride. Maybe someday I’ll have to do it all over again.

**********************************************************

There’s a little issue I’ve been wanting to throw out there for a while, but just never got done. I mentioned a few blogs back that the half-millionth hit was coming right up. It came a little over a week later. A shining and proud moment. I snapped a pic of the screen with the number. 500,000 even. I never wrote for the numbers, but that was a very cool milestone for me.

Anyway, in the past couple of years, I have gotten a half dozen or so random emails from advertising companies. Hey, they say. We notice you’re getting some nice traffic on your blog. Would you consider running some ads? We’d love to sign you up. I always ignored those messages. It just didn’t seem important.

But lately, some of my geeky friends have told me the same thing. Why not run some banner ads, there on the left side of the screen? Or both sides? It’s completely empty space. People are used to seeing ads when they read online. You could make a few bucks. And I told them. I don’t know. It’s never been important to me. All I want is a place to write my stuff. I suppose it’s not a big deal, one way or the other. But I still couldn’t quite bring myself to give anyone the go-ahead.

It all boils down to this, money wise. I suppose I’d earn a few dollars a month. Enough, maybe, for food and beer and drinks for my garage party every summer. Those are very important things. But they won’t break the bank, either way. Nice money to have. Won’t miss it much if I don’t.

And I thought, I’ll just ask my readers. This is where I’m writing for now, and will be for a while. Would you mind if I ran ads along the left side of the blog? Or both sides? Yes? No? Why? Why not? Give me some feedback. I’m not saying I’ll keep a tally of votes and go with that, or anything. But I’ll sure take into consideration what you have to say.