Rocky got the political bug before graduating law school in 1974 and decided to run for state representative, covering four counties. He won a tight race which meant we moved from Columbus to Mechanicsburg, a town of 1800, to fulfill the residency requirements. The Burg had a bowling alley, a Dairy Queen, a drugstore, a small library, and lots of cows and cornfields. There was a clothing store, two diners, a couple of bars and pizza shops, numerous churches, one grocery store, one barbershop, and one Jew - me! That’s unless you count Paul Castle, an eccentric schizophrenic, who thought he was descended from the lost tribe of Israel.

We couldn’t afford to buy a house, so we rented one on Sandusky Street and had fun fixing it up. It was central to everything, but after moving in, we realized it was located on the exact spot the semi-trucks noisily shifted gears as they entered and left town. And, it took awhile to get used to the fact there were no physical fitness centers, movie theaters, good restaurants, or bagel and lox delis. Still, we loved our life in the Burg and made great life-long friends. Rocky worked in Columbus at the Ohio Legislature and his law firm in Mechanicsburg. I was busy volunteering at school, running an exercise business, and managing an art gallery in Urbana. We immersed ourselves in country living, community politics, and raising kids. We never missed a ball game, and there were plenty of festivals and parades to attend. Best of all, Sarah and Jake were being raised with small-town values and a good education.

Twelve years went by. Rocky ran (and was elected) three more times, and we lived in three different houses, one rented, one built from scratch, and lastly, Jubarock, Rocky’s family home located at the edge of town. When Rocky lost the Attorney General race in 1982, he made the wise decision to get out of politics and practice law in Columbus full time. He didn’t mind driving back and forth because we loved living in his family home, overlooking acres of trees and rolling hills. There were spacious rooms, two wood-burning fireplaces, a vegetable and flower garden, a large barn, and a wonderful outdoor pool. We had it all, even a Black Lab named Elsa.

But, I began feeling lonely and couldn’t pinpoint why, so I kept it to myself. I drove to Columbus two days a week to run errands and volunteer at the Columbus Museum of Art. When the weather was nice, I sometimes found myself in Bexley, cruising up and down the tree-lined streets filled with people walking their dogs and talking to neighbors. I circled by the high school, the Drexel theater, and Jeffery Mansion, loving the ambiance, the eclectic homes, and the beautiful lawns. And, I never missed an opportunity to drive by my friends’ old houses, my Grandparents’ home on Cassady, and down the alley to my old house on Broad Street. It didn’t take long to realize how much I missed this community and longed to return to my roots. All I needed to do was let Rocky, Sarah, and Jake know how I felt.

Sarah loved the idea, but Rocky and Jake were an entirely different story. Neither was big on change, so it took a year to convince them. In 1987, we moved back to Bexley. The kids entered Bexley schools, Rocky practiced law downtown, and I worked as an art consultant. We kept our family home in Mechanicsburg until the kids were no longer interested in going back on weekends. I was thrilled when my best friend from college, Joelene, and her husband bought the house, not knowing Dolly and Bill would be repurchasing it from them five years later. I cherished my years living in the Burg, but once we moved back to Columbus and got settled, I never wanted to leave. I used to tease Rocky, “If you ever want to move back to the country, it’ll have to be in another life with another wife.”

It’s now 2021, and I’m sitting by the fire with Rocky at our house in Mechanicsburg. How can that be? I’m not a different wife in Rocky’s other life. Six years ago, we brainstormed to build a vacation home on the property that’s been in Rocky’s family for over a hundred years; and build we did! And, how fortunate we are; the house overlooks a beautiful spring-fed lake and takes us only forty minutes to get there from Bexley. Our Grandsons love the hiking trails, riding the golf cart and gator, sitting around the fire pit, and hanging out on the dock. They kayak, paddleboard, swim, and fish, and I get to watch it all.

After Rocky and I moved to Columbia Avenue in Bexley, my brother, Bobby, and I collaborated on a piece of art for the kitchen to represent Rocky’s roots in Mechanicsburg and mine in Bexley. We began by taking one of my favorite sculptures off the kitchen table and outside to be photographed in natural sunlight. We were curious what it would look like if we digitally placed an image of the sculpture inside a panoramic view of Rocky’s hunting club in Mechanicsburg.

It worked! The urban/rural connection came together when Bobby magically placed the man’s foot stepping from the dirt path onto the sculpture. We elongated the checkered base, so it became part of the landscape. After fading fields of foxtail into all four sides of the sculpture, we had the final image secured to a 26” x 90” board and titled it “Converging Roots.” It hangs just behind the bronze sculpture on our kitchen table, and almost everyone who sees it thinks it’s a painting. When I look at it, I’m reminded of how our lives have converged, roots and all.