On the "Judy Trail" to Montana

Ted.  In July of 2019 (the good old days), we were enjoying a month in Missoula, Montana when Judy said, “You know, I wouldn’t mind coming back here next year.” In three years of wandering the world, she had never said that so I immediately booked the same Airbnb for August of 2020. While our travel plans to Europe this year have been shattered, there was nothing stopping us from coming back to a town that we had quickly grown to love.

 

Our original plan was to fly to Denver for a family reunion celebrating my father’s 90^th birthday and then fly on up to Montana. The reunion was cancelled but we still wanted to see my Dad. Also, we were now the proud owners of a 2004 Toyota Tundra in mint condition so why not just drive “Raymond” out West.  That would also allow us to stop in Memphis to visit Judy’s older brother Billy and his wife, Marilyn.

 

On July 29 we left Georgia and drove through Birmingham, AL, stopping for lunch in Tupelo, MS and coffee in Oxford, MS on our way to a family dinner in Memphis. The brief, socially distanced meeting was good for all of us. Yes, FaceTime can keep families and friends connected during this awful time but there’s nothing like "socially distanced" face to face meet ups.

Judy, Billy & Marilyn

The next day we crossed the mighty Mississippi River driving northwest through Arkansas, stopping only for a great lunch in Hardy. In a “small world” story, we later found out that a friend of ours (who we first met in Spain) has a brother who owns the canoe rental business right next to the restaurant. 

 

After spending the night in Nevada, Missouri, it was time to log some serious miles. We crossed nearly all of Kansas that day and dropped exhausted into our bed in Goodland.

 

The next day, we rose early and pointed Raymond west again, heading for a lunch in Denver with my Dad. It was bittersweet as we had to be very careful about distancing. But, at least we saw him and were able to wish him happy birthday in person. The man is in wonderful shape for 90 and has set his sights on hitting 100!

Dad & Ted

After lunch, we headed north and stopped for the night in Cheyenne, Wyoming. We explored the town a bit and saw the state capitol where friend Karen once worked. We then treated ourselves to a steak dinner and hit the hay.

Wyoming state capitol

Waking up in Cheyenne, we bought some food for a picnic and hit the road once more. Our friends, Ralph and Sarah had given us a good tip early on so we had purchased a couple trays for eating takeout food in the truck. Pulling onto a side road at lunch time we enjoyed our sushi with no company on the high plains but a couple of cattle and a small herd of curious pronghorn. 

High plains sushi

Soon after lunch we arrived Sheridan, Wyoming and were able to wander the town a bit before wine and cheese in our hotel.

 

Our last day on the road had one more surprise. We had crossed into Montana and were driving across the Crow Indian Reservation when we began seeing signs for the Little Bighorn. Now, I have read a bit of history and proceeded to “mansplain” to Judy that the Little Bighorn River apparently flows all the way to South Dakota for I assured her the famous Battle of the Little Bighorn was fought in South Dakota, not Montana. As we approached an exit with a sign for the National Monument, I decided to pull over to see what the fuss was about. Son of a gun, the battle had actually taken place in present day Montana. However, my hubris was greatly eclipsed by that of George Armstrong Custer who met his untimely demise at this spot. Arriving pretty early in the morning, we were able to explore the site with only minimal crowds before we headed back out. 

Marker at "Custer's Last Stand"

Where they fell

Indian monument

By 5:00 on August 3, our 2,500 mile journey was at an end and we were back “home” in Missoula.

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.

Finding happiness

Judy. Like many of you, I started doing some online studying in the past few weeks. Yale University offered their popular “Science of Well-Being” with Dr. Laurie Santos through the Coursera website, and I jumped on it.

Now, I’m a pretty happy and optimistic person, but I was intrigued by the idea that this could be a science. Sure enough, Dr. Santos backed up her philosophy with studies and statistics. It was absolutely fascinating (and still available—just Google it if you’re interested—and it’s free).

One of the first things Dr. Santos talked about is how we think owning “awesome stuff” will make us happy.  The truth is that a couple of weeks after we buy that shiny new and filled with memory laptop, it’s just another thing, and there’s a better one available. She calls it “hedonic adaptation.”  Did you wake up this morning and say, “Hot dog, let me at that two-year old Macbook!” Nope. It’s just a useful thing now.

What really interested me were the studies she quoted about experiences being more important than things. According to the good doctor, as well as several of her colleagues, people remember things they DO more than things they GOT. They found that even friends enjoyed hearing more about experiences than they did about things.

Ted and Caed in Arizona

With Parker in Greece in 2013

We’ve always preferred giving experiences to our family as gifts. The best have been travels, early on with our kids, and more recently with grandsons Parker and Caedmon. We still talk about places we’ve visited together and the fun we had. A couple of Christmases ago we rented a house in Florida and spent the week kayaking, swimming, eating, sunning, and so on.

Sometimes, the gift was a concert, a class, or even dinner together followed by something the recipient wanted to do. One of my favorite memories is having dinner in downtown Athens with Parker, after which he took me to the top of a parking deck to show me “the best place in Athens to see the sunset.” (It was spectacular, by the way.) Daughter Leslie and I make it a point to celebrate birthdays by going out to dinner and maybe getting a pedicure. We watch our son Stefan’s kids so that he and his wife Sarah can shop without interruption, or go to dinner or whatever. We take Oliver to a nearby biking trail so he can use up lots of energy. And we let him and his brother Callum play in the back of "Raymond the Cowboy Truck." We’ll talk about those things for years to come, small though some of them are.

Pure joy

The plan had been to go to Europe this summer with Parker and Caedmon and Leslie. Parker and Les would head to Ireland, while Caed would stay in London with us. We found a book with a scavenger hunt all over the city to introduce him to some of the cooler stuff. Then we’d all meet up to visit our family in Spain. Well, thank you, Covid-19, that never happened—YET.

There are still experiences we can do together. Caed comes over about once a week, which for him is a big deal. He gets completely spoiled for a couple of days. Every now and then we hike with him and Leslie, and on our last hike hit the jackpot with a plethora of chanterelle mushrooms. That’s a memory we’ll share for awhile.

Fun day hiking and great dinner awaits

Yes, there’s the occasional book or toy from another country, especially for Oliver and Callum, our young grandsons. But, God willing, when they’re old enough, we’re headed off on an adventure, hopefully in another country. And we’ll talk about it for years to come.

Joy in the Time of Corona (with apologies to Gabriel Garcia Marquez)

Judy. Strange times.

At this point, I’m sure everyone in the world knows that we in the US are dealing with more than the Pandemic of Covid-19. Civil unrest, and a long-overdue look at systemic racism has exploded into peaceful protests and into riots, encouraged by fringe anarchistic groups. Lack of national leadership has brought about confusion in both cases. Strange times, indeed.

In terms of the Pandemic, we have expanded our “bubble” to include both kids and their families, and to have physically distanced wine and snacks outside with a few friends. This has been a lifesaver to us. Being alone the rest of the time is not so bad, and we’re still walking and hiking. We also check several times a week with friends who are alone and with friends around the world who are also on lockdown.

In terms of the civil unrest, we do the same. We have friends of color who are finally opening up to us about living in a world where watching EVERYTHING you do is de rigeur, and it is breaking our hearts. While some are protesting in organized marches, others, often afraid of the virus in such crowds, are praying that love will get us all through this and into a unified people and nation. It is not an easy time. We whites are having to take long, hard looks at ourselves, and our friends of color are having to find the courage to speak up.

In the long run, this is a good thing. And it’s the power of love that has to carry us.

In the middle of all this, we look for joy—the gardenia bush flowering outside our front door, our youngest grandson taking his first steps, and, crazy as it seems, our neighborhood raccoon, Corona.

A few days ago, we were at the dining room table and saw a young raccoon sauntering down the driveway, across the street, and into our neighbor’s yard. It was three o’clock in the afternoon! I thought they were nocturnal!

Then yesterday, when we were returning in our truck Raymond, he stopped us dead in our driveway as he calmly waited to see what we’d do. Finally, he walked to our fence, climbed over, crossed the yard, and climbed the fence to get out again. Smart guy!

This morning I saw him heading down the driveway again, and slipped out back to get a photo. Corona gave me a look that said, “Seriously?” and climbed a small tree where he sat and watched until I left.

This little guy has been a delight. Raccoons, I’m told, are the mascot of the Pandemic. They always wear their masks, they wash their hands, and if you rearrange one of the accepted spellings of racoon, it spells Corona.

No, it’s not easy now. We’re counting on love and joy and courage. And a few laughs we can get from our buddy Corona.