A Two Hour Date Continued…

From last week’s blog: But there I was, awash in fear and terrified thrill. In order to complete the journey, for my finger tip to touch hers, I had to step off the edge.

I moved my finger closer, feeling the warmth emanating off of her hand. And the very moment that I made contact was the moment I fell into the dark abyss. 

It was also the moment that I was caught. 

The very instant our fingertips touched something happened to me that I’ve never experienced before. It was as if, by touching fingers, I had just plugged myself into a honey warm river of presence, awe and peace. This river flowed from her fingertip to mine, and back, with a sweet, intoxicating hum. We looked at each other, stunned and wide awake. Time disappeared. 

This was the universe's way of saying you are not walking out that door. Stay right here, right now, because you two are meant to meet, I’ve got plans for you. 

I listened. So did she. 

Two days later, that two hour late lunch date came to a close. Teresa had a plane to catch to LA and I was headed deeper into Mexico.

I said goodbye and dove into the rest of life. Meetings with fantastic people I worked with, cultivating new tours in other rich corners of the globe and a jaunt into Oaxaca’s far corners to spend time with some of the last traditional felt hat makers on earth.

We’ll be on the Other Side of This Thing Soon

Except, of course, it was 2020. And as none of us need reminding, around about early March this Coronavirus thing really started hitting the news. It was looking like there would be a significant impact on my bread and butter, tourism. I huddled with my money advisor and based on our reading of the tea leaves, it looked like my tour business would be in good shape. March was the end of our high season and the beginning of our six month slow season. Just like a squirrel packing away seeds for winter, we always made sure to have enough savings in reserve to cover all our overhead for those six months. As it turned out, we had enough reserves for not just for six months, but for nine months.  Without having to lay anyone off! I was thrilled. We’d use the time, I figured, to do a lot of behind the scenes work that we’d never gotten around to doing. Kinda like doing a serious tune up and a bit of an overhaul on your motor. And when 9 months passed, which would be December 2020, we’d be well tuned and ready to go.  And certainly by then we’d be on the other side of this thing!  

As I made my travels around Mexico, Teresa and I called and wrote to each other. Our calls would sometimes last for hours on end. That she lived in LA and I lived in Ashland, Oregon, mattered so much less the second after we touched fingers. And though I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend when I met her, I’d found an amazing connection with someone worthy of jettisoning reasonable and rational plans for.

A Three Day Date

We began plotting our next meeting, trying to figure out when we both had overlapping holes in our schedules so we could spend a few days together. Modern world problems. The date that worked was March 16th. On this, our second date, I’d stay three days. One day longer than our “two hour” first date. We’d test the waters of this new thing a bit more. Maybe Mexico City was some inexplicable fairy dust fluke. If all went well, we’d figure out how to meet again in April or May, maybe for a full week. 

As the anticipated date ticked nearer, more and more news of the coronavirus was coming out.  As you will all recall, back in March we had no idea what this was all about, none at all. Though for some reason it appeared that we’d need lots and lots and lots of toilet paper to see it through. 

Then, on the very day I was to fly to Los Angeles, the San Francisco Bay Area issued a shelter in place order. What the heck was that?  And word was that LA was soon to follow. What would this mean? Would airports close? Would highways, gas stations, grocery stores be closed? What was happening? As I was getting my stuff together to head to the airport I received a text from my daughter relaying a message from a friend of hers in LA- “Dude, if your Dad is heading to LA tell him to head home now. LA is about to go into total lockdown, riot police are suiting up, the streets are going to burn! We are heading for the countryside!” 

My flight was to take off in 3 hours. What to do? I’ve seen enough Armageddon movies filmed in LA that I didn’t have to conjure much imaginative energy to think of what it might be like there: Flocks of zombies in the streets, huge buildings ripped apart by earthquakes, one hundred story tidal waves sweeping the city away.  

I called Teresa and we conferred. So far none of the above was happening around her apartment. The airlines hadn’t cancelled my flight. I considered changing the date of the trip, giving us more time to see what was going to happen in the world. But...what if there would be no flights available in lock down? What if I couldn’t get there at all? When would the next chance be to see Teresa? I walked circles in my house, minutes passed. Somewhere airplane engines were warming up for their next flight. Finally I made a decision, texted Teresa, threw an extra pair of socks into my overnight bag (somehow that might help with Armageddon?) and drove myself to the airport.

As it turned out, there were no burning buildings or police in riot gear in LA (that wouldn’t happen for a few more months). Instead of that there was simply no traffic. The city was beginning to close down. Teresa picked me up and off we went, zooming through the streets of LA. 

I’m going to make this part short, friends. Even though it was really long. Three big things happened in the time that Spring became Summer, and Summer began to taste like Fall. 

First, and this doesn’t count towards the three things, fairy dust was still in the air. 

Thing One    

My three day visit got longer. 

It would seem Teresa and I can’t keep to pre-planned schedules. But to be fair, in 2020, there were quite a few changed plans . Over the next two days while we were having a blast sheltering in place, one after another city began, well, um, closing. Essentials workers only. Leave the house only when really, really necessary. Cover your mouth. Don’t cover your mouth. Wash your hands all the time. Don’t touch packages until a bunch of hours have passed. Only breathe near people you live with. And on and on and on. 

At Teresa’s place, the big question became, “should I stay or should I go now?”.  If I stay there could be trouble, but if I go we may not be able to see each other until who knows when. We still harbored the same worries. Would airlines stop flying? Would highways be closed at state lines? Would there be food shortages? Gas rationing?

I know I keep repeating the same questions here. My guess is that most of you were too. This was the time of what we thought we knew coming apart. And no answers.

The silver lining was that the airlines did something heretofore unimaginable; they created very flexible and friendly cancelation and ticket change policies. After much contemplation, guesswork and general cluelessness about most things happening out there, I decided to cancel my ticket for credit and stay.  It was at this moment, I was glad I’d brought the extra pair of socks.

As I mentioned, this change in the world’s plans had the consequence of lengthening our three day, second date.  As one uncertain future day unfolded into the next, that three day date ultimately became a 77 day date. Without going out to a single restaurant. Or movie. 

We spent part of this date in LA, until the feral side of me who needs to be walked regularly in the woods or across desert valleys started to melt down. About then, we piled a bunch of stuff in the car and drove 11 hours (no closed borders, plenty of gasoline available, serious TP shortages) to my single room cottage in Oregon. In addition to walks in the wilderness, I was looking forward to showing Teresa what I looked like dressed in a different pair of pants and shirt. 

Our third date was about as long. Ashland, LA, Santa Barbara, journeys into the wilderness, meeting each other’s families. And on our fourth date we...ah, but I jump ahead. You’ll have to tune in next week for that. 

The amazing thing is that, from my non-native environment of urban LA, to her non-native environment of my one room cottage, somehow it worked. We barely knew each other and then we sort of moved in together.  I don’t necessarily recommend it, but if you’ve got fairy dust on your side, I think you’ll be able to pull it off. 

Thing Two  

We were able to give each other all of this time because we cancelled our year. 

It was the year where I was soon to be off to Peru for a stint, maybe a visit to Guatemala, and back to Mexico a time or two, plus a few visits to family. Teresa was going to be winging all over the place, from Argentina to big gatherings around weddings and textile events.

Actually the year cancelled us. We weren’t alone in this. If one listened just a wee bit, one could hear the sound of 7.6 billion people crossing out plans on their calendars and fingers hitting the delete key.  

Suddenly all we had was time. And each other. 

Thing Three 

I ended my business.  That fun little travel company I’d built and ran for 24 years. 

By April the tea leaves were not pointing to a rosy year. We’d all had more time to observe what was going on. Face it or deny it, it was happening. I could see that there was no possible future in which a virus comes along, becomes a global pandemic, and then goes away because its inconvenient to all or our plans. As far as I could surmise, this was not all going to be over in nine months, by December of 2020, like I’d planned. In fact, my guess was that it would take twice that long. My guess was that it would be Fall of 2021 before I’d see the first cent of income again from tourism. That was nine months more than the business had savings to endure. 

I could imagine no scenario in which we could make it through 18 months and not feel completely demoralized and extremely hungry. In which we would not feel like we’d run a long and grueling marathon without water or food. And with the real possibility that we’d arrive at the finish line only to find there was nothing there. Nothing, perhaps, but another marathon just like the one we’d staggered through waiting for us.

Or in less abstract terms, it could look like this: spend every cent you’ve saved to keep the business alive. Still not enough. Take out loans. Still not enough. Sell your car, your tour van, your good bike. Still not enough. Find a job, any job. If you’re lucky. But can’t make the rent. Move in with a friend, or a parent. And on it goes. 

That is the marathon. Sadly, many of us have run that race in 2020.  But I said no to that vision in April while I was still solvent enough to figure out what could be next in my life. I said no to that possible future while those I worked with were still on the early side of the marathon as well. I made an enormous bet, wagering the business and community I’d created over two and a half decades, my financial life plan and a big piece of my identity against the odds of that dismal marathon. 

I paid out lifeline bonuses to my core team and began turning off the lights, euthanizing Traditions Mexico. 

This took weeks. It was not fun.

And what if this was the wrong choice? It was impossible to know. Sometimes you just have to make the best guess you can and then be firm about that choice.

In a sense, this was also like stepping off of an abyss and falling into the black of the unknown. Except there was no fingertip to catch me, there was no cosmic elation pouring in the next moment. There was just the ending of things and the passing of the days and the corrosive grief that comes with loss.   

And yet. 

And yet, it wasn’t all dreary. Because in letting go of something enormous, something that I’d completely entwined my life around and that had entwined itself around my life, I created space.

What happens when you’ve got someone wonderful to spend time with, an empty calendar and the collapse of your professional identity and job? On February 9th 2020 there was no way on earth I could have guessed where I’d be on February 9th, 2021!

Come back next week!