In late July or August of 1971, I was introduced to the book Christy by Catherine Marshall in a hand-me-down way. Now, tattered and torn, turning brownish and brittle, this copy of Christy was first given to Manly’s grandmother Maude by his aunt, Maude’s younger daughter Joyce Smoak, who then gave it to Hilda, her niece and Manly’s sister. When Hilda married and moved to Indianapolis, she left Christy at Mert’s (Manly’s mother) where I found it in a stack of books and magazines.
Needing something to read, I picked up Christy and curled up on the sofa. I don’t recall how long it took me to finish the book, I only remember being totally immersed, picking it up to read whenever I had a few minutes and not wanting to lay the book back down. The more I read, the more I wanted to see where the original mission had been. Not knowing the exact location, we struck out on a weekend adventure to see what we could discover.
That weekend and the book Christy were the beginning of many adventures that would change the course of my life forever.