From the mystery of night into the greater mystery of day

1

It’s the summer solstice. Musicians and fans from Canada and the US are gathered for the 1974 Mariposa Folk Festival on the Toronto Islands. Mom decides to attend with her friend Lynn. They both have an interest in folk music and an even greater interest to get out of Ann Arbor and go on an adventure. Programming that year reflects a growing cultural enthusiasm for ethnic music, bluegrass, pottery and fiber arts. Attendants set up tents and teach workshops while headline performers including Bruce Cockburn and Pete Seeger bring rhythm and poetry to 1974’s spirit of creativity.

Saturday afternoon, mom and Lynn watch a glass blowing demonstration, relax in a patch of grass and listen to a local, female folk singer, and later meander the idyllic setting for a snack. A musician in his early twenties leans up against a tree near the food vendors, strumming his guitar like it’s an old friend. When mom and Lynn are in ear shot, he starts singing “You’re much too pretty, for me to just a’ walk up and say hi.” He locks his friendly gaze onto mom and continues singing. “But if I don’t you’d probably just a’ walk on by.” Mom and Lynn laugh and take the bait. “I’ve been seeing ya for a long, long while. I don’t know your name, oh but I know your smile.” Mom flashes him her own wide, toothy song.

“And I’d really liiiiiiiiiiiike to get to know you.”

The man strums a chord and then extends his right hand out to shake mom’s. Usually soured by flirtatious men, the youthful innocence of this musician instead pulls mom in without reservation.

“Hi! My name is Charles. You can call me Charlie.” He says with a playful, faintly southern drawl. He strums another chord on his guitar.

“I’m Nancy,” mom says, and then gestures toward her friend as an afterthought. “This is my friend Lynn.” Charlie whistles to a nearby friend and invites him over to meet his new companions, nudging him in the direction of Lynn.

“Would you like a beer?” He asks my mom. Before she can reply, he leans his guitar against the tree and starts collecting abandoned, half-empty cups of leftover beer, pouring the remains into a cup until it’s full. He offers his communal beer to mom and she accepts, charmed more by his carefree swagger than his back-wash brew. They sit down and take cautious sips and share casual conversation. Charlie talks passionately about his love for music, history and the natural world. Combining these loves, he hosts a Wisconsin Educational Television Network show, Long Ago is All Around, where he and his dog Ranger teach children about the history of the state.

Charlie also mentions his recent graduation from U of M Ann Arbor—an odd coincidence—and mom is jolted from her carefree exchange. Pictures form in her minds-eye. A tall, handsome cardiac resident walks the same Ann Arbor campus. In one reverie, he is shadowing doctors. In another, he flirts with nurses. “In this very moment,” she thinks “which one is it? While I listen to this stranger charm me, is my husband on campus charming someone else?”

David, Nancy and Eric Warner live in a rental in Ann Arbor, MI while dad finishes his cardiac residency at University of Michigan. 

During her first pregnancy, David Warner—my dad—started having affairs. His proclivity will haunt their marriage for 25 years and even catalyze a 5 year “open marriage” where they explore different partners while remaining married. Mom attends the 1974 Mariposa Festival thinking she is pregnant for a second time and has scheduled an appointment with her OBGYN for when she returns. During the long drive between Ann Arbor and Toronto, mom wonders if the affairs will start all over again with the news of their second child.

Mom is tired of being “Parson Larson.” As a child her most intimate, late night conversations were with a portrait of Christ hanging on her bedroom wall. As a young woman she held Bible studies in her college dorm room. Her first kiss with David Warner was unintentionally shared with a Bible — positioning their torsos a safe three inches apart — as they embraced on a shady path of their Wooster College campus.

Now, a young wife and mother, she struggles to apply Christ’s teachings of forgiveness in her marriage. Throw in a classic 1950’s attitude about keeping up appearances and fear of being alone and she is in it for the long haul. But on this early summer day, something breaks in her. Maybe it is the communal beer and the spirit of the 70’s. Maybe the sudden urge to color outside of the lines and to know herself without borders dampens her good-girl conditioning.

So that night, sandwiched between star and beer cup constellations, I am conceived.

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Note to readers: If you missed the Preface or any previous chapters, you can always navigate to the website for the full, serialized experience.