When Pegi and I were dating in the mid-1970s, we regularly saw movies at the Bijou Theater in Houston. The movies that they showed there were throwbacks to the first half of the 20th century. They showed musicals and comedies with Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, andThe Marx Brothers, especially. They also showed “previews of coming attractions,” as well as serial shorts with Captain America, newsreels and travelogues in good ole black-and-white. These travelogues always ended with, “And we bid a fond farewell to beautiful [name of the location],” with a hint of longing and melancholy..
Now, we bid a “fond farewell” to Rhodesia/Zimbabwe after a decade. We experienced melancholy and longing, but we knew that our visit was over. Our identity as a family had started with Rhodesia in 1976 just after we married. We felt a strong connection there and it was hard to imagine ourselves somewhere else a decade later. Who were we now? What was our identity? What would we do now? As we deplaned in Louisville, there was an uncomfortable familiarity. Sure, my mother and step-family were there and we had some acquaintances, but our identity was as Jeff & Pegi + Abigail . . . who lived in Zimbabwe. It was difficult for us to see ourselves without Zimbabwe. That was our life. And, if we couldn’t conceive of us ourselves without Zimbabwe, how would our friends and family see us?
We corresponded with about 100 members of our mailing list who had shown interest in our escapades in Africa, but we heard back from only a handful. The larger ministries that had supported us immediately withdrew their support and disappeared. If we weren’t in Africa, we didn’t exist. It was kind of like being in a crowded room of friends, stepping outside for a breath of fresh air, and returning to the room only to find yourself all alone. Where did everyone go? I was only outside for a minute! We were no longer of value in contributing to these large ministries’ sense of self-worth, so we were discarded as useless to them.
But we weren’t useless. As a family, we were so happy we didn’t know how alone we were! All of the negativity didn’t sink in with us. We knew that our life had meaning and purpose and that wonderful things lay ahead for the three of us as we continued on the road ahead. We were optimistic. We knew that the path before us would be guided by the Eternal One.
We moved into a nice apartment where we met a retired Jewish couple from New York. They fell in love with Abi and became our first new friends in Louisville. We reconnected with my mom (and step-family) as well as with my father.
I found a new career selling life insurance where I was “1987 Kentucky Rookie of the Year.” I qualified for the Million Dollar Roundtable, the gold standard for life insurance agents and was recruited into a sales management role. I built a team of 12 agents and began to experience success. The next year we bought a house in a really nice suburb of Louisville and got Abi a springer spaniel puppy we named Caleb — Hebrew for dog!
The whole Zimbabwe adventure was behind us. It was part of the “interesting” story of where we had been, what we had done and now “who we were.” We had bid it a fond farewell. The zealous drive that had taken us there was a thing of the past. We were focused on being normal—just enjoying our family. So, we no longer identified with the previous decade. We were focused on building a future. The next decade would witness the fading away of our Christian connections and see the steady reawakening of Jewish identity.
Until I held Abigail in my arms, I had never valued being Jewish. It was just what I had been born. But, with every day as Abigail grew, I saw greater value in being a Jew. The next decade would shake me free of my confusion and conclude with the full consciousness of my Jewishness.
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