Throughout my high school years, my family and I were members of the United Church in Tallahassee the Tallahassee version of my childhood church, the United Church of Gainesville. One of our favorite people from UCT was Virginia Tate, an older woman (and, it turns out, a widow) who functioned as a kind of extra grandmother. Virginia Tate (pictured above with me in my Athletic Attic uniform - probably around 1981 in her Lake Ella/Los Robles area apartment?) also served as an interim “housemother” at my girlfriend Linda’s sorority house, Delta Zeta, and so I ran into Virginia Tate in her professional capacity (though she was already semi-retired at that point). Virginia Tate was proper, but could also be warm and have a sense of humor.
My mother and sister later visited with Virginia Tate and one of her daughters, who was a New River Gorge rafting guide, who later died at age 39 in a car accident.
In December 1995 – 13 years ago and five months before I met Stephanie and Vincent – I was driving back from Chicago, Madison, and Minnesota (a 2 ½-week trip that inaugurated my annual Thanksgiving trips to the Twin Cities, which in a way helped lead to us living in the Twin Cities) – and I stopped for a very late supper with Virginia Tate, who had moved from Tallahassee to Fort Wayne to be near another daughter, Judy. Since it was already 9 p.m., Virginia Tate nicely invited me to stay, and then she got up and took me to breakfast at a nearby Burger King.
Several years later on another Columbus to Chicago trip, I drove through Fort Wayne in the middle of the night. In addition to stopping at Kinko’s, I drove by the Burger King and the condo complex. In the interim, Virginia Tate (apparently in 1999) had died. I had exchanged notes with her daughter, but it was 3 a.m., and so I didn’t call.
This time – during the drive up from the “Idol” auditions – I did call – and left a message for Judy and husband Al on their answering machine. But imagine my surprise when – as Vincent and I were driving into town – what should appear but that very same Burger King, outside of which I had once taken a picture of Virginia Tate. Vincent said he was hungry, and so we stopped there to eat. I walked the dog too, and we sat out (leaving the car doors open – significant later) in the shaded part of the parking lot while I ate my lunch. We then drove by what I think was Virginia Tate’s old condo complex.
I figured that Al and Judy were out of town (and so we’d have to catch them on a different trip), and so they were. But Al called me on my cell phone from Chicago to say that – after putting his son and their family – back from Mexico, where their daughter-in-law is from originally – on a plane to go elsewhere – they would be coming back that night and could see us Sunday morning. I had hoped to attend church at our old Columbus pastor’s church in Lima, Ohio, just 75 minutes away. But I had found that the church had closed, and Pastor Dan was now a military chaplain, serving overseas (perhaps in Iraq or Afghanistan) (see “War and Peace”). So we were available Sunday morning (although that became more complicated than I might have imagined).
My mother and sister later visited with Virginia Tate and one of her daughters, who was a New River Gorge rafting guide, who later died at age 39 in a car accident.
In December 1995 – 13 years ago and five months before I met Stephanie and Vincent – I was driving back from Chicago, Madison, and Minnesota (a 2 ½-week trip that inaugurated my annual Thanksgiving trips to the Twin Cities, which in a way helped lead to us living in the Twin Cities) – and I stopped for a very late supper with Virginia Tate, who had moved from Tallahassee to Fort Wayne to be near another daughter, Judy. Since it was already 9 p.m., Virginia Tate nicely invited me to stay, and then she got up and took me to breakfast at a nearby Burger King.
Several years later on another Columbus to Chicago trip, I drove through Fort Wayne in the middle of the night. In addition to stopping at Kinko’s, I drove by the Burger King and the condo complex. In the interim, Virginia Tate (apparently in 1999) had died. I had exchanged notes with her daughter, but it was 3 a.m., and so I didn’t call.
This time – during the drive up from the “Idol” auditions – I did call – and left a message for Judy and husband Al on their answering machine. But imagine my surprise when – as Vincent and I were driving into town – what should appear but that very same Burger King, outside of which I had once taken a picture of Virginia Tate. Vincent said he was hungry, and so we stopped there to eat. I walked the dog too, and we sat out (leaving the car doors open – significant later) in the shaded part of the parking lot while I ate my lunch. We then drove by what I think was Virginia Tate’s old condo complex.
I figured that Al and Judy were out of town (and so we’d have to catch them on a different trip), and so they were. But Al called me on my cell phone from Chicago to say that – after putting his son and their family – back from Mexico, where their daughter-in-law is from originally – on a plane to go elsewhere – they would be coming back that night and could see us Sunday morning. I had hoped to attend church at our old Columbus pastor’s church in Lima, Ohio, just 75 minutes away. But I had found that the church had closed, and Pastor Dan was now a military chaplain, serving overseas (perhaps in Iraq or Afghanistan) (see “War and Peace”). So we were available Sunday morning (although that became more complicated than I might have imagined).
Sunday morning we got up, Vincent had breakfast at the diner next to our low-end Motel 6 motel, and we dropped him off at Ikasucon. Then Al (pictured below) drove up and took us to their home, in a southern suburban part of the city. He gave us background about the town, they showed us their house (their dogs were still being boarded and so we were able to bring Frisco, whom of course they liked), shared with us about their family, and eventually showed us around some more of their town. Judy (pictured above - who of course resembles her mother a little and I chatted and reminisced about her mother – and she filled me in some – a native of New England, husband died in his late 50s of lung cancer, which eventually killed Virginia Tate also (no doubt partly from passive smoking), and her sister, both deceased. Stephanie and Al talked, and, then, after Judy had to go to an appointment, Al shared with us a little about his struggle with depression and his successful effort – earlier this summer – to get the United Methodist Church to pass a resolution in support of the theory of evolution.
We enjoyed their company and their stories (though with just orange juice we got a little hungry) and – as always – enjoy having a personal connection – in/with an area we visit.
By the way, as I expected, Virginia Tate’s body was cremated. I had actually mentioned on their answering machine that not only would I love to chat with them (I left it up to them whether it should be on the phone or in person – they were obviously OK with in person, it turns out) but also I wanted to know where Virginia Tate might be buried, in case I could visit her grave site. Judy told me that they had spread some of Virginia Tate’s ashes over a family cemetery in Connecticut River and then the rest over the nearby Connecticut River. An interesting end for the remains of a lovely woman.
-- Perry
We enjoyed their company and their stories (though with just orange juice we got a little hungry) and – as always – enjoy having a personal connection – in/with an area we visit.
By the way, as I expected, Virginia Tate’s body was cremated. I had actually mentioned on their answering machine that not only would I love to chat with them (I left it up to them whether it should be on the phone or in person – they were obviously OK with in person, it turns out) but also I wanted to know where Virginia Tate might be buried, in case I could visit her grave site. Judy told me that they had spread some of Virginia Tate’s ashes over a family cemetery in Connecticut River and then the rest over the nearby Connecticut River. An interesting end for the remains of a lovely woman.
-- Perry
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