CLICK ABOVE TO LISTEN

Chapter One: The Fabric of Fate

In the grand tapestry of human experience, two powerful, interwoven concepts—faith, the belief in a higher power, and fate, the predetermined course of our lives—exert a profound influence on our development and choices. Whether through the lens of one or both of these “means to an end,” it often seems that the pattern of our lives is set, threading its way through the very fabric of our existence.

Some believe that life unfolds without “rhyme or reason,” leading to the common refrain of “go with the flow.” Yet, the thread of our existence often reveals a hidden pattern and a reason deeply rooted in the confines of our early development and the seismic cultural shifts surrounding us.

The year is 1969. America has successfully landed a man on the moon, France has unveiled the test flight of the Concorde, the seeds of the Internet have been sown, the Vietnam War rages on, and the Hippie culture—with its mantra of “make love, not war”—is cresting with the legendary Woodstock Music and Art Fair.

It is here, at the festival in Bethel, New York, that our story begins. The event was widely advertised, and the “rebellious” youth poured in from all parts of the United States. Rosemary Ascott arrived on the first day in the company of a group of friends who had made the long cross-country trip from San Francisco.

Like the hundreds of thousands of others arriving, she was happy and free. They settled on a spot approximately 250 metres from the main stage. The WHO had just been belting out their iconic anthem, “See Me, Feel Me,” and everyone was swaying to the music; others stood up and joined hands in a powerful show of unity. The world watched, transfixed, through the eyes of the reporters.

Sharing scant resources—food, water, and limited amenities—the attendees cared little for hygiene. It was a time of perceived newfound freedom, and many young girls attending slept with people they had just met, people they would, sadly, almost certainly never see again after this crazy weekend. Rosemary, caught up in the powerful euphoria of the occasion, gave herself to many strangers whose names she heard but never remembered.

On the long drive back home, Rosemary and her friends had to sell some of their jewellery to scrape together enough cash for gas. It was no issue; all that truly mattered was that they had been to Yasgur’s Farm and been a part of this significant cultural affair.

The carefree high of the festival quickly crashed upon their return. Bruce and Cally Ascott, Rosemary’s parents, were in a state of shock when their eighteen-year-old daughter arrived home, dishevelled but with a broad, unforgettable grin. They were still seething from the day she left, having found only a brief note on her dressing table stating she was going with friends to New York. Of course, they had followed the news and, by the second day of her disappearance, had correctly concluded she was at the festival.

Rosemary’s fourteen-year-old brother, Timothy, enjoyed the spectacle of the tongue-lashing she received, seeing it as good entertainment. Life eventually settled back into a semblance of a normal pattern for the Ascott family. Rosemary returned to college, though she was noticeably more rebellious. Her mother tried to reason with her, her father threatened to throw her out and disown her, and her little brother, who truly loved his big sister, felt a bit sorry for her.

This fragile truce, however, was not destined to last.

We often hear the adage, “It never rains but it pours.” For a while, the Ascott home sank back into semi-peace, but every action has a result—sometimes pleasant, sometimes brutally unpleasant. The home once again exploded with the news of Rosemary’s pregnancy.

It seemed as if World War III had started, with the Ascott home as its epicentre. Dad was screaming furiously, stopping short only of beating her. Her mother was having a nervous breakdown, cycling through bouts of heartbreaking weeping, angry outbursts, and then deadly silence.

Rose, her family name, mostly stayed in her room, engrossed in her personal hell. She was unable to provide the name of the boy responsible for her condition, which only further exasperated a situation already balancing precariously on tenterhooks. Timothy chose the easy path; he stayed out of the way, said very little, and only at night did he visit his sister in her room to try to console her.

Sadly, her erstwhile friends kept their distance, which, to a degree, pained her even more. It is a true saying: “Friends are few when days are dark.” It was ironic that the same friends who had encouraged her to defy her parents were nowhere to be found now.

Once the emotional temperature of the home atmosphere began to cool, a family meeting was called to review the situation and map a way forward. All four members met. Timothy was present only as a spectator, his sole input a quiet support for his sister.

Cally, coupling motherly love with wisdom, had already had a private pre-discussion with Bruce to decide on a course of action. She knew her husband—his dark side meant his only solution would be to kick Rose out and leave her to fend for herself.

Cally began by stating the obvious: their disappointment. She then stated that, as it was Rosemary’s second year at college, they would continue to support her until she completed her Diploma in Software Engineering. She had one more year to complete after the one she was currently doing.

Rosemary, with quiet gratitude, apologized again for what had happened and the resultant shame heaped upon the family. She also thanked them for choosing to support her, at least for the next little while. Her dad, now in a far better emotional place, called her to him, hugged her, and with tears in his eyes, said, “I do love you, even though I am a hard man.”

Timothy was very much pleased with what he had just witnessed. Unbeknownst to the family, he had ended up in a skirmish after school a few days earlier when a boy had made a derogatory remark about his sister. Needless to say, that boy, nor any of his friends, ever attempted the same nonsense. One good beating had silenced them all.

A new home situation was now developing for Rosemary. For one, she had to deal with the constant hurdle of morning sickness, a sure sign of her condition. She diligently engrossed herself in her studies. Any attempts her so-called friends made to re-establish contact were rejected.

Her extra-curricular activities were strictly with family members: either dinner with them at local restaurants or the occasional trip to the cinema with Timothy. At college, she also opted to keep to herself, except for her necessary interactions with the lecturing staff.

One lecturer in particular, her computer science instructor, Miss Ella Jones, who was herself a single mother, became her new “college friend.” Besides the talks on study matters, Ella would tell her about what to expect going into the future and how to deal with possible situations that would arise. Rosemary not only valued the counsel given but also the friendship shown—a priceless commodity in her current predicament.

A blessing in disguise through this new situation was that where her studies were deteriorating previously, she was now excelling in every subject. This not only served to rebuild her faith in herself, but the added bonus was that her detractors and tormentors at college were silenced. Nothing like a bit of success to help turn the tide from negativity to a positive outlook.

She was now preparing herself on two fronts. At college, she was preparing for the present year’s final examinations, and at home, there was a hive of activity as they awaited the soon arrival of a family addition.

Her mother had inherited a small fortune from her grandparents. Growing up, she had been their favourite grandchild, being the only girl with two brothers and three male cousins. Cally and Bruce had previously decided not to use these funds except in a time of necessity. They now agreed to use some of these funds to prepare the spare bedroom as a nursery.

They not only stocked it out with the necessities, such as baby clothing, but went all out to fit in a top-of-the-range baby cot, the latest pram, and a host of baby toys.

Rose stood by in amazement, witnessing the transformation that had occurred. At the beginning of this disastrous episode, the air was filled with tension, and the rejection she felt was palpable. She was now witnessing a joyful, peaceful environment unfolding before her eyes.

She stood back, and all she could whisper was, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The days seemed to be rushing by as they all got in on the act. Her mother went out shopping every other day, and her dad, post-work, was setting about painting and repairing anything that was in need of it. Her brother acted as his assistant. She, in between her studies, would peep in to see how things were coming along.

There was also a shift in her personal life. In her old rebellious state of defying her parents and doing everything to upset them, she was now an almost perfect daughter. Part of her previous rebellion was also directed against her religious upbringing of church attendance. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, a memory of the knowledge of God’s existence arose, just as she was raised to believe. She had been taught that He is and will always be a loving God, in spite of how much we disappoint Him. She had started attending the Sunday morning worship services and found them reassuring as she was embraced by the pastor and a number of the church members.

The long shadow of her past seemed to be receding, replaced by a quiet strength and a familial bond she had almost lost.