90% of a life

Ted. Everyone on the planet is going through a tough time and none of us will ever forget 2020. However, we are an adaptive species and are learning how to adjust to this new normal. When I ponder the life that Judy and I are living now, it’s still pretty darned good. I'd say maybe 90% of a life. Yes, we wear masks whenever we enter a building. Meeting friends and family involves social distancing. We worry about family members and friends – especially those living alone. As Judy says, we now wash our hands like Lady Macbeth. And we can forget about leaving the US for the foreseeable future. Still, life finds a way. My friend George walks the nearby beach early every morning to take photographs of waves. Friends Rick and Micki watch the antics of local birds at their feeders. Grandson Caedmon jumps, by himself, on the family’s new trampoline. And after four months in Georgia, Judy and I find ourselves rambling down the road in Raymond, on our way to Montana to enjoy a different type of scenery. I am reminded of something from Anne Frank’s diary; “I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”

Grandsons Oliver & Callum in Raymond

For better or for worse...

Judy.  A little over a month ago, Ted and I celebrated our forty-third wedding anniversary.  Things being the way they are, we decided not to go out, but had a quiet dinner at home and reminisced. We’ve been so very fortunate. We’ve followed our dreams, separately and together, and have found comfort and joy not only in our travels, but also, in the last few months, in our quarantine time. We watch plays and movies on tv, play cards, take long walks or hikes, and plan what we’ll do when things open up again.

One of the benefits of being in Georgia for an extended period of time is being in touch with dear friends, many of whom have also been together for years. Still others, for a shorter period. What has struck us both is the number of couples we know who are dealing with health issues, with one caring for the other. This has touched us more than we dreamed it could.

We’ll change names here, but I do want to celebrate these folks who take “in sickness and in health” seriously.

Jim and Linda have been married for forty-two years. About five or six years ago, Jim, a brilliant businessman, began to show lapses in his mental state. Linda covered for him for a while, but eventually spoke to me about it—her concerns for him, as well as for his job, on which they depended. As he got worse, her mother was diagnosed as living with dementia. It has been, needless to say, overwhelming. Her mom is now in a home, and Jim has progressed to the point that he can’t dress himself. But Linda, sometimes with help from friends, has kept him at home. The love is still there, and it’s fierce.

Cathy and Bob were married about ten years ago, after each had been widowed for some time. The joy they’ve found in each other lifts all of us who know them. They actively pursue outreach projects, even going each year on a mission to help in another country, which has resulted in friends all over the world. A few months ago Bob emailed us to tell us that Cathy had a stroke, and was struggling with her left side. Days later, he let us know that further examination proved that she was dealing with brain cancer—and the prospects were not rosy. Still, they do her physical therapy daily. She’s finished her radiation treatments, and is hopeful to take part in a study with a promising drug. Giving up is not an option.

Rachel and Ann have been together for thirty years, and married about ten or so years ago, when it became legal. Rachel was hospitalized a couple of years ago with several potentially deadly issues, and friends stayed in the hospital acting as advocates for Rachel as Ann had to go home to teach her classes. Bit by bit, Rachel has inched her way back, although she is severely immune compromised. When we visit, Ann makes sure we stay at a distance, and “air hug” from across the yard. She is super protective of Rachel, and makes sure we are updated on the latest measures. If we bring dinner to have an outside meal, Ann gently reminds us of Rachel’s favorite foods.

There are more. And I know you know them, too. They show us what love and marriage are about, and teach us the true meaning of the promises we made on our wedding day. Our lives are enriched by knowing, and, as much as possible, helping these beautiful couples. This wretched virus has often left them alone, without the physical help they’ve been given in the past. When we write to check on them, the responses are almost always uplifting.

And our hearts are uplifted by knowing them.