Everyone knows it’s impossible to re-kindle a fire---using DEAD ASHES. In the early seventies, a single guy named Bob lived near me in a Little Rock-Condominium
Complex called Hampton Court. At some point we started dating and enjoyed each other’s company for several years. Needing more space for my daughters and me, I bought a house about five miles from my former condo. Before long, Bob and
I were seeing less and less of each other.
There was a point when Bob, six years younger than me, asked me to marry him but, having never been married, Bob didn’t
seem ready for the responsibility of a ready-made family. My children were fond of Bob; Bob was a fun-kind-of-guy yet--Bob seemed too-casual about life. I didn’t want to gamble on another marriage-mistake.
From time to time, I’d get a phone call from Bob. He eventually moved to New Orleans and, occasionally, when he’d come back to Little Rock to visit family, we’d have dinner together.
One day, Bob called to tell me he’d won a seven-day cruise--for two--on Norwegian Cruise Lines for being his company’s Top Salesman and-- he wanted me to join him for the trip.
His company would fly me from Little Rock to Miami where I would join Bob and, together, we’d climb aboard a Luxurious Cruise Ship and, for seven days, cruise the waters of The Caribbean. It was summertime, my daughters were out
of school, and my parents agreed to “baby sit” so I said “yes.” I pictured myself swimming, jogging, writing, reading, and relaxing in the sun. Never-once did I picture myself holding on to the ship’s railing,
studying the choppy water far below, and contemplating a serious "jump" --overboard.
We’d been aboard the cruise ship for about two hours when everyone gathered
for dinner. That's when I realized… EATING is a major “activity” for cruise ship passengers. In fact, EATING is every day’s “Main Event”!!!!
When Bob and I were escorted to our table--I was stunned to learn that six people from his company had also won tickets for the cruise and would be our constant companions for the seven day trip. I took a few deep breaths--relaxed--and
accepted that I was now part of a group rather than part of a couple. I soon realized Bob’s personal and unmarried secretary-- seated on the other side of Bob--assumed I knew she and Bob were somewhat of a “twosome.” So--where did that
Bob’s explanation was simple: He thought we could renew our relationship during the cruise while his secretary--who was fun but not interesting-enough
to marry—would automatically “get the message.” Bob assumed she would find other”interests” and turn her back on Bob. It was the craziest, most ridiculous situation I’d ever imagined and--I simply wanted to go
Over a period of 12 hours, I had ongoing discussions with the ship’s doctor, the ship’s purser, and every official on the ship. They needed
to understand that I must be re-located far away from Bob and his business group-- as soon as possible. I didn’t want to see them at meals, in the halls, or at any events. The ship was large and all I asked was to keep our paths from crossing--for
the remainder of the cruise.
The room they assigned me was tiny-- with no window-- and located near the ship’s enormous kitchen. For two nights,
I struggled with sea sickness, constant noise all around me, and mounting claustrophobia. On the third day, I visited the upper deck, desperate for fresh air and sunshine and--that’s when it hit me. I must get off this ship! We weren’t
scheduled to visit a port for another day and, even then, it was some insignificant island for a brief refueling. I knew me well. I had to get off this ship and back home, immediately.
I looked down at the water far below and thought about my only alternative. Yes, it was either JUMP or try to endure another night from Hell. Could I do it?!?!? Would I do it?!?!?!?
I’d reached my limit. It was time to present “my plan” to those in charge: “Either pull into the nearest large port, drop anchor, and escort me to dry land or--I
intended to jump-off the ship.” I’m not crazy or in need of attention. I just can-not and will-not spend another night on this floating Merry-go-round from Hell.”
When the doctor (from Sweden) suggested they had the right to restrain me; to keep me from “harming” myself by placing me in a “locked” suite for the remainder of the trip, I advised him to “re-think”
such a decision. I had no history of mental illness and, I had zero-tolerance for most medications but---I did have a long history as both a Television and Radio Personality and was “well-connected” with The Media and People in “high
places”. If they doubted me--then let me make some phone calls.
The ship’s purser took immediate control of the conversation and assured me he would
find a solution to my problem. He asked me to be patient as he made a series of phone calls. He suggested I sit in his “command center” while he began initiating a creative plan. Nearly two hours later, he directed me to hurry back
to my room and pack my bags. He asked that I speak to no one and be ready to leave the ship in 35 minutes. The purser instructed me to wait in my room until his assistant came for me.
I had barely gathered my bags together when the assistant knocked at my door. Without a word, he tucked my bags under both his arms and ushered me out the door. By this time, everyone on board was crowding the ship’s many
decks, curious to see why we were stopping at an unscheduled port.
As I departed the ship, escorted by both the purser and the ship’s doctor-- I felt thousands
of eyes staring at me, curious to know WHO I was, and wondering WHY I was being removed from the cruise ship. One thing I’ve learned--after years of living--I don’t owe anyone an explanation for WHO I am, WHY I make certain decisions or HOW I choose
to live my life. I take full responsibility for my actions.
The first sign to greet me when I stepped on solid ground said “WELCOME TO ST. THOMAS.”
I learned the Cruise Line had a taxi waiting to take me to the nearest airport. Thank goodness I had one-less-problem to worry about. The Taxi Driver was happy to practice his English and proud he could list the names of all three of the American
Airlines that provided service to and from St. Thomas.
But, most alarming was the fact that-- for the next three days-- there was only one flight scheduled to
leave St. Thomas for America and-- that flight was today. In fact, it was a Delta Airlines Flight, scheduled to depart in one hour for Atlanta, Georgia. Passengers were already standing in line to board the flight and--all the seats were full!!!! I ran
from one ticket window to the next, desperate to be on stand-by, frantic to find someone to help me. Surely…someone could manage to squeeze me in--somewhere. I must get home!
Standing in that unfamiliar airport, surrounded by unfamiliar faces speaking an unfamiliar language and suddenly--over the loud speaker-- I hear “Sally Miller, meet your Delta Pilot at gate number 3, immediately.”
I was speechless. People stopped talking to listen, and to wonder why a Pilot was speaking over the public announcement channel. THEN—Again-- I heard: “Sally Miller, Miss Arkansas, there’s no time to waste. Come to gate
number 3. Your Delta Pilot is waiting, impatiently.” I grabbed my bags and started running. I knocked into people, left and right, as I pushed and shoved my way through the crowds.
When I found Gate Number 3---there stood a man, handsomely-dressed in a Delta Pilot’s uniform--blocking the main entrance and waiting--just for me. He was someone from my long-ago past AND---someone I hadn't seen
since I was nine years old!
We grabbed each other and yes, my eyes filled with tears when I realized this man---now all-grown-up--- was my brother’s childhood
friend from Pine Bluff’s East Side. Robert graduated from PB High School in the early fifties, then left to see the world. Forty years later, Robert was a Delta Airlines Pilot--hugging me in the St. Thomas Airport!
Robert took me under his wing--found me a first-class seat on his flight---and flew me safely to Atlanta. He also made arrangements for me to spend the night at Atlanta’s Airport
Marriott so I could-easily make my early morning Delta flight-- the next day-- home to Little Rock.
Before leaving me at my hotel, Robert explained how--through
the years--he’d “kept-up” with me; how he’d watched me on television the night I was in the Miss America Pageant. He said “You were like the little sister I never had. When I realized it was really-you in the St. Thomas
airport and heard about your tale of woe--I knew I must help you.” He pulled me close--to kiss me on the cheek-- and said--- “I will always love you, little sister.” Then--like a dream- Robert walked out of my life.
"Thank you, dearest friend-- for taking care of me." As I say, repeatedly: "THERE ARE NO COINCIDENCES IN MY LIFE."