Uncle Joe Sbaraglia's support

It was the worst day of my teenage life. Alan and I had been inseparable during the summer of 1960, and it was August. We knew it would happen, but August 8th came so very fast. That was the date of Alan's sailing on the Robin Gray to Africa for his parents' second term as missionaries to Kenya. I was going into my senior year in high school a month later.

On the day of Alan's departure my Uncle Joe Spratt (that was his nickname -- Sbaraglia shortened) called ME on the phone just to encourage me because he new how "blue" I had been a few days prior to Alan's leaving, and he remembered the date when my true love was leaving me for at least three years, and he called to encourage me, and remind me that I would see Alan again, and that letters were an option. Back then there were NO telephone calls between the US and Africa.

It was such a sweet thing for Uncle Joe to do. All I could do was cry into the phone, and he listened to me cry, can you imagine that? So sweet. Such a loving thing to do.

Shortly after I hung up the phone, it rang again and it was Alan telling me that the ship was not leaving for three more days due to a hurricane in the Caribbean, and that he would be back in Philadelphia for two days and we would be able to get together again for a little more time.

It still hurt when he left the second time three days later, but it was buffered by both the phone call I had from Uncle Joe and by the fact that I was able to see Alan again before he sailed.