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Slaying the Dragon?

A long and winding road to be sure...

By Ken FendleyPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
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Slaying the Dragon?

My husband suggested that we write our different perspectives of an experience we had during the middle of last year. This ‘experience’ is better known as The Tail of the Dragon: an eleven-mile piece of asphalt designated US Highway 129 known for its 318 curves over some of the most beautiful hills along the border between North Carolina and Tennessee. Enthusiasts gather at the Harley Davidson store on the Tennessee side or a convenience store on the North Carolina side, and drive across the mountain on a road much like the early 60’s Corvair: unsafe at any speed. While I thoroughly enjoyed the drive – the subtle movement of our convertible BMW pleased me – that trip was something very different for me. We had left home after an amazingly stressful evening, which had brought with it some realizations that could charitably be described as uncomfortable.

My husband had been estranged from his children for the years we’d been married. He had left their mother, poorly to be sure, and in a small town where everyone knew him. He served as associate pastor of the large, downtown First Baptist Church in a small, southern town for over 20 years. Having a happy marriage had been a lower priority than maintaining the appearance of normal marriage, so the town was shocked when he – suddenly to their minds – divorced his wife and married someone from halfway across the country.

He had spent 6 years cycling through reaching out to them with his whole heart, and trying very hard not to think about them. When he reached out, they either ignored him or they hurt him. The cycle lengthened, but we had realized that without some kind of boundary in place, it would never end. My husband decided that we would drive from our home in the Ouachita basin to the North Carolina town where three of his four children live and ask if there was a way forward that could work for everyone. He figured asking face to face had the best chance at success, and he wanted to give it the very best chance it could have before he gave up.

We drove for two days and arrived in town around the time his youngest, the son who would occasionally call – although the calls always included my husband degrading himself- would be getting off work. We asked after him and he met us outside the building where we talked for probably ten minutes. The conversation itself was civil enough; it was laced with the cowardice people call propriety, but at least no one threw anything. We left with the son having refused a coffee invitation, politely. From there, we drove by his second youngest’s home. We knocked and heard, “Go away” through the door in what had to be a bittersweet voice to the already demoralized man next to me. We got back into our car headed toward his second oldest daughter when my husband, who is not usually particularly direct, said, “I want to get out of this place.”

After just a few minutes of clarifying conversation, I found a town far enough away that he wouldn’t be tempted to return and close enough that we could make it an early evening and begin applying booze if necessary. That town ended up being Cherokee, NC where my father was born, and we ultimately did not require the application of booze. We spent the evening thinking of something to do that might distract him from the fact that we had driven two days to be told that his children did not value him above their philosophical and religious beliefs about divorce. We found the Tail of the Dragon.

humanity
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About the Creator

Ken Fendley

My wife and I see things very differently. Take a stroll through our respective minds.

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