Expect the Unexpected

Opportunity comes when you least expect it but you must keep your eyes open to find it.

I first learned this lesson when I was 10 years old. Walking home from school one day, I took a slightly different route and headed up the rocky hill by the Baptist Church. As I trudged up that steep incline, I began kicking leaves into the gully that stretched long and lean beside the church. Almost to the top, I spotted something shiny and was surprised when I pulled a quarter from the leaves. Wow, twenty-five cents. That was a lot of money hiding in that leaf-cluttered ditch. When I showed my mother this found money, she was excited too. Then she told me something that I didn’t fully understand. “Jenny Lind, opportunity comes when you least expect it, so always keep your eyes open for the unexpected.”

Adopting her philosophy, I had hoped to find more money in that ditch; however, the once profitable route never rewarded me even though my eyes were open wide. But my mother’s words stayed with me over the years.

When I started jogging, my eyes were always scanning the trails, and it finally paid off. I developed what I call ‘eagle eyes’ and often found unexpected items when running or walking: a delicate silver cross necklace, small gold diamond ring, coins, and even a watch. But nothing compared to finding that first quarter. That was true until recently.

It was early evening when I found myself in a mostly deserted mall parking lot. As I got out of my car, there was something folded on the ground. When I bent down to pick it up for recycling, I found that I was holding $50. That definitely trumped my quarter! There were few cars and no people in the area so it was impossible to find its owner. While I felt bad about the stranger’s loss, I decided to put it to good use. No, I did not buy a new pair of shoes, a slight weakness of mine. Instead I donated it to our church. While I had kept the quarter, I could not in good conscience do that with the $50.

So what do these stories have in common with my current World War II project? Everything! There have been so many people, places and things that I have discovered just by having my eyes, ears, and heart open. This fall I had one of those unexpected experiences while on a family trip in North Carolina. No money was found, but it was even more valuable.

Brevard, NC, is a quaint, small town cradled in the foothill of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The surroundings are breathing-taking especially when the trees sport their vibrant fall garb and the waterfalls are roaring in unison. Each fall the community hosts a multi-generational Halloween parade open to anyone in costume. After the parade and with a variety of super heroes still milling around, I had an unexpected adventure.

My cousins’ wife and I were in one of the tourist shops when I got a phone call from my husband. He rarely called so I knew it had to be important. “You got to come see this now,” he said. “Hurry, before it’s too late.”

I had just sampled some of the area’s popular home-made fudge and promised to head his way once I paid for my chocolate. As I made my way down the street, I saw him waving at me. He was in front of an unlikely building, a former medical center. What was his urgency? Had something happened to my cousin? No! John was directing me to the entrance of The Western North Carolina Military Museum.

Surprised to find a flourishing military establishment in this remote location, I stepped inside and met Emmett Casciato, the founder and curator. In 2016 he and two other recent North Carolina transplants decided to combine their extensive military collections into a temporary Memorial Day exhibition. A year later, their initial exhibit had morphed into a 3,000 square foot permanent museum on Main Street.

There was so much to see in their expanded collection of artifacts that spanned six war eras. But I was drawn to the Pacific Theater section in the World War II room. That display had been established to honor co- founder Tom Bugala’s uncle, a marine killed in action in 1942 in the Pacific. Tears pooled in my eyes as I saw photos of the rugged terrain and thought of my father working in those wet, humid and pest -infected jungles.

Each of the rooms contained poignant and often painful memorabilia. In the War on Terror section, there were artifacts from the third founder, Ken Corn. A photographer for a Raleigh TV station, he had been sent to Iraq in 2003 and was still haunted by what he saw. Like the other co-founders, his eyes had been opened wide. This museum was their opportunity to give back to those who served and to help visitors remember the generations of American families who had paid for our freedom.

When I unexpectedly walked into that museum, I had the opportunity to honor the rural communities that had sent so many of their boys and men to war. My visit was also a powerful reminder of my mother’s words spoken so long ago–opportunity comes when you least expect it. That Saturday I had gotten my money’s worth from her wisdom. Meeting Emmett and his co-founders was priceless. Learn more at http://www.wncmilitaryhistorymuseum.com.

Copyright 2018 Jenny L.Erwin