What are the Odds...

Why is that a problem??

Stalker?

Not a problem...just sharing a funny story. That's all. Don't read into.

In that case, it's a remarkable coincidence. I couldn't quote odds.

The odds have got to be pretty slim, eh? Imagine this. I moved to a smallish city in Korea (South, the good one) many moons ago. Several years ago, two newbies arrived in town from the US. We got introduced because a mutual friend realized that we were from the same state. We met and I asked them which city/town they were from. It was about three miles from where I'd last lived stateside, and where I'd always done my shopping and whatnot. Pop. about 27,000. Talk about a small world.

sorry, my sense of humor can be very dry. Was just a strafing joke.

I wrote this story here a few years ago.
I'm rewriting here, because it fits and for clarity.
I'm from Canada. I went to a conference a few years ago in Orlando.
This is where it got weird, in a small world kinda way.
On my last night in town, the hotel was a ghost town. I decided to check out a local blues club and try some bbq. Good stuff, but waaaaaay too much. The band was awesome, but since I was alone, I decided to go back to the hotel sooner than later.
Once at the hotel, and being that it was still relatively early, I again decided to have a night cap and sit on the balcony in the gorgeous warm air. It's a waning luxury where I come from.
The bar was pretty empty, and the balcony had a lone occupant.
As I stood pondering where to sit, he said something to me. I didn't catch the first part, but he finished the sentence with eh!
I knew he was a fellow canuck.
He introduced himself, told me he was from a small town in my province, about 200k from my city. Joe was older - late 60's, skinny, balding. He graciously bought me a drink and we started to chat. We chewed the fat. He told me about his family, his job. Seems like a fine guy. You know, the kind of guy you'd trust to watch your kids. We talked for an hour or two.
Joe had skipped the last day of the convention and gone golfing, his "Irish skin" was burnt.
I laughed, told him I could commiserate as I suffered from the same affliction.
Once Joe realized I was Irish too, he told me that his family was from (insert name of town), not north or south, not the county or that it was close to a big city like Belfast, but the name of a specific small town.
Funny, I said, my mom comes from the same town (area). Assuming there was only one (insert name of small town) in the whole of Ireland.
Then he said, they lived on The Road (a unique name, only heard in a handful of places in the world). He'd never been there. But he new the address.
I just about fell off my chair. I knew this house, his name, I've seen that house. Our house, the family farm, is at the end of The Road on a hill, you have to pass their house to get to ours. For centuries his family and mine have been neighbours, catholic and protestant and all the 'stuff' that brought.
When I brought up the google maps and showed him where the two farms where, in proximity, he blanched and got very quiet.

Part 2
My father emigrated from Ireland, from the south. His first job was for a farmer, as a cowboy on a ranch, managing huge cattle herds. They'd birth, baptize and brand cows, ride the open range and every so often he would work for other farmers, especially when times got lean or during calving etc.

Part 3
Years later, dad was now working in the city. He met my mom and got married, had kids. A few years later my granny came over for her first trip to Canada. While here, she was on a mission and wanted to see some people from 'home'. So one day we all went for a drive, with granny giving directions, to a house out in the country. I barely remember this trip, I was very young. As we drove up to the house, Dad said that he knew the house, he knew these people. He'd worked for them. Coincidence???
The farmer's wife, was from the same family just down The Road. Her brother was the reason we were there. Granny was on a mission of forgiveness

Fast forward...
When I returned home from the convention, I told my mom the story. She started to laugh. She told me why Joe got quiet.
Turns out, the guy I met in Florida was the brother's son. And the reason Joe's father is was in Canada, the reason Joe had never been to the house on The Road, but strangely new the address, the reason my granny went to visit, and to forgive, is that...










Joe's father tried to kill my grandfather. He tried to ambush and shoot him dead. He was deported to Canada, when they could do it back in the day. 1921.

OMG!
It's a very small world.

You're still a good writer, Ceili! Good to see you.

What a terrifically interesting story! You need to write a screenplay and take some poetic license with it. It would be a great book or movie. Thanks for sharing!

I grew up in a town of 800 people, after having been taken there when i was just a small boy. (I was born in New York, which at that time was the largest city on the planet.) Having left that town in 1968, i ran into a woman from that town about five years later. Another five years later, i read the obituary of a man who had been my close friend when i lived in that little town. It was a shock, as he was just two days younger than me, and was found dead in his truck, with no signs of violence, and no traces of drugs or alcohol.

Since that time, i have not encountered any people from that little town. I would indeed find it extraordinary to encounter any of those people today.

I would like to second this, super cool seeing Ceili here after so many years!

To me, Ceili wrote the single best profile ever, by miles and miles.

Thank-you all. Merry Christmas.