What Goes Around Comes Around

It's funny how people and time seem to run in concentric circles. Everything comes back around, like those circus rides that make you dizzy as they wend their way back to the starting point. Such is our friend, Frank.

Ken and I met him at our church, way long time ago. He was the music director, his brain a virtual galaxy of thoughts and ideas. Some people go through life thinking they are musicians or artists, but they got no soul. Frank's got the lion's share of it. He had a bunch of white folks belting out Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir selections. Then he turned the sanctuary into Jerusalem for Easter. There were huge mountains made out of brown paper, Jesus on the cross right over the baptistry, and live animals lumbering down the purple carpet right down to the front. He had (and has) a lot of audacity. He'll tell you right to your face that you need to plant hydrangeas (and where) in your yard. He has the ability to get you and everybody else to pitch in with his vision, working like serfs, and you'll wonder how in the heck he did that. 

One time, I bartered many hours of painting for an unfortunate set of used rugs that didn't work with my square warehouse of a living room (from a cheap doctor, no less). I wailed and gnashed my teeth and called Frank. He popped in for twenty minutes, told me to paint everything cinnamon, rearranged the rugs and furniture, said "Go buy two ficus trees and put them right there." I obeyed and our family loved curling up in that place with the fireplace crackling and books all around until the day we sold it. It transformed the whole house. He's got those gifts -- of color, music, design and caring for people. His wife, Karen, is the wind under his wings. She's the sugar to his audacity, a gracious and kind soul who tempers and balances him. 

As twenty-something years flew by, our families lost touch with each other. Facebook arrived and everybody knows all our business now. I met Frank's daughter-in-law and we became colleagues in real estate and friends for life. She helped him sell his home and went hunting for their next one. By gosh and by golly, he and his dear wife moved next door, in what will be a jewel in our little borough's crown after he works his magic. He says that Villa Rica is the next Charleston. We're gonna bring in some salt water and party lights and try not to get hit crossing the street. What a wonderful blessing for our town. Welcome to Villa Rica, Frank and Karen Reiff!