Why go back to Missoula?

Ted. Montana, and more specifically Missoula appeals to us for several reasons. First, there is lots of space. Montana is bigger than Georgia, Florida and South Carolina combined. Also, there are not many people.  The population is about the same as Fulton County, Georgia or the state of Rhode Island. The climate in the summer is hard to beat; sunny, warm days, cool nights and low humidity.

 

We love places where one can wake up and walk 10 minutes to pick up a fresh baguette and croissants.

 

Our neighborhood bakery, with social distancing enforced

Following a leisurely breakfast, we only need to drive about 15 minutes to a National Forest for a brisk hike that still gets us home in time for lunch on our terrace. 

 

After a nap, it’s just a 10 minute stroll to an old school ice cream stand.

Savoring a scoop of cardamom at the Big Dipper

Yes, we have the limitations of masks and social distancing. Plus our church here is closed and the Roots Music Festival has been canceled. However, most of what we discovered last year is still here to enjoy.  It’s hard for me to argue with the locals who claim that Montana is “The Last Best Place!”  

The 100 Day dress

 Judy.  Fact is, I love clothes. I don’t know if it’s because as a child my folks couldn’t afford all the cool clothes, or if I’m just a hedonist, but I do love clothes. Once I discovered second-hand shopping, there was no stopping me.  It was ridiculous.

 

Obviously this posed a problem when we started traveling. I gave away bags of clothing and have continued to purge the bins in the storage unit every time we return, but I have these favorites. And last winter in Atlanta when I was rehearsing for a play, I couldn’t find my sweaters, so a trip to the thrift store loaded me up again.

 

A mistake, I think, was trading my original suitcase for a larger one. I try to be careful, but I invariably find myself biting my nails as the gate agents weigh my bag.

 

So I was intrigued when I read about a merino dress that one could wear day after day. It apparently worked in both hot and cool weather. In fact, the manufacturer offered a deal: If you wore the dress for 100 days and documented it, they’d send you a coupon toward a second dress.

 

What the heck. We’re under quarantine, after all, so who’s going to see it? And if it worked, maybe I could bring myself to dump more of my old stuff and pack MUCH less. So I ordered the dress.

Good for roughhousing with the boys

 

I admit the first few days were rough. Sometimes I’d wear it for a couple of hours, take my photo, then put on something else. Gradually, though, it became easy to just put the dress on and go about my day. How nice not to think about what I put on in the morning. Steve Jobs only wore black turtlenecks and jeans. And he did ok. I could, too.

 

Now, with only twenty or so days left in the challenge, I really love it. I brought more clothes to Montana with me, but I just don’t wear them, except for exercise clothing. A sweater, scarf, or jacket changes the look, and on cool days, leggings keep me warm.

Keeping cool with Big Dipper ice cream

 

It remains to be seen what will happen when my 100 days are up. I could wind up going back to my old ways, or then again, I might be as cool as Ted with a suitcase full of all I need—at under fifty pounds.

Add a pair of hiking boots, and I'm good to go!

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.