John Weber has been a presence in my life since 1954, our high school years. Even in his absences he has been present. This new book contains my memories of presence with him. The writing took me all that time. Even while I was veiled, a Catholic Sister in a convent, I wrote poetry inspired by him. Even while I was married to Pat Kelly, my first husband after leaving the convent, I wondered where John might be. And when Pat died, I thought I could feel John's presence coming nearer every day. And sure enough, one day a few months later John came to find me.
I had written of him in journals and seen him in dreams, then suddenly, in 1985, he was standing right before me in a Minnesota coffee shop. He was saying, "You are exactly the same," and lifting me high and higher while both of us were laughing with the magic of it all, the miracle. We seemed to be dancing in the sky.
We joined our lives, married for twenty-three years, and then he died in 2008. I kept writing. All of it. A book, though, is more than just the writing of a life. I had to find a tone, a rhythm for the dance. It took another twelve years for that. But here it is.
I'm grateful to announce the publication of A DANCE IN THE SKY, A Memoir. It is the second volume in a series titled Three Husbands. (The third volume is still in the realm and form of experience). You can find volume 2 at Amazon.com in both paperback and kindle formats. Or you can order it from your local bookstore.
For your enjoyment I've included a little scene from 1958 when John and I were first aware of our love, but both of us were already committed to a different kind of life--he was signed up for a career in the Air Force, and I was already accepted to enter a Roman Catholic Convent. He was 18 and I was 17 years old.
It is a Friday night in spring, and John has shown up for the Teen Club dance at the Moose Lodge. He'd never attended before, and my heart knows he has come that night because I will be there. We dance. I leave with him. In memory I am walking down the hill with John towards the Baudette Bay. We turn the corner and walk alongside the bay all the way to my home. The air smells of wet leaves. I'm an April crocus. I'm water pressing under river ice, flowing towards the lake, breaking winter from beneath. Nothing can stop this movement. It is the attraction that moves the stars. I catch his eye.
He gazes at me--in the classroom, at Mass, from the Plymouth cruising down Main Street. When I walk beside him I am safe; I am who I am; I find myself; I feel the warmth of him even without a touch. He is John. He is God. How can there be any difference? My mind tells me there is certainly a difference, and I am moving towards danger. 'You be careful!' my mind warns. 'If you really do intend to answer God's call, you will have to leave this boy and soon. Don't fall in love; it will be too hard.' But it is too late. I am in love already."
I hope to meet you in these pages. You can purchase the book at Amazon.com.