My Favorite Story
The year is 1949. It’s mid to late February by guesstimate, because no one recalls for sure. Philadelphia. Driving from Chestnut Hill to Germantown are the groom and his parents, going to meet the bride’s family for the first time. George, George Jr. and Sarah, who keeps repeating in a barely audible ponderance, a name.
“John Kerr.”
Neither father nor son pay much attention. It’s her way.
They arrive at the house in Germantown and the front door swings open to a stocky short man in his late 50’s grinning and shouting with joy.
“Sarah Miller!!”
“Johnny Kerr!!”
They embrace as only long lost friends can. In the years following WWI, the two had known each other from the Irish Dances they had attended, and by all accounts, made a career of carpet shredding that would make any hoofer with style applaud. They were held mostly for the returning Doughboys, a privately funded USO-type event. They had lost contact around 1920-1, having both taken up a job or or started a family.
Twenty-eight years later, Sarah’s son and John’s daughter were to be married. One can only imagine the stories that were told that night. The love, the wonder and the Things That Have No Definition that make a soul soar. Reunited in the most unpredictable and joyous way the imagination could conjure or conceive.
What makes this my favorite story in the world is that it is true.
I am living proof of it.
Sarah Miller and John Kerr are my grandparents. John is my middle name, and I am a Miller in body and manner, the most Miller of the six children my parents raised.
I am a living reunion.
Smile a bit DU, there is ever magic in the world.
Robert John/SCE
Editor's Note: This was originally posted on DU nine years ago today. It was high time I told it again. 
= new reply since forum marked as read
Thank you for sharing this again. Kicked and recommended.
Too often we forget that it's there for the taking, and the world's more full of wonder than any of us will ever understand. 
A very well told story. I think it is marvelous.
