Auld Lang Syne
Six months ago, I started thinking about how I would describe this year. In June, I had hoped that things would be relatively back to normal by now. Here we are in December, in the final days of 2020 and questioning if things will ever get back to normal and if I’m being honest, how much of the “normal” do I want back?
It has been one year since I’ve seen any member of my family. Last Christmas, we had the strong suspicion that it would be our final holiday in Chicago. By January we found an apartment, two weeks later we were in Paris, and two days after we were driving across the country. We chose our apartment, a location ideal for Nate’s commute to the suburbs, but still in the city. We prepared our spare bedroom for guests, many of our friends and family had already penciled in dates to visit. By March, much like the rest of the country and the world, we were under a stay-at-home order and our big Seattle plans began to shift. We hunkered down, stayed at home, and waited it out.
Somewhere in Wyoming
As cases were beginning to slow, masks were mandated and we were experiencing next-level cabin fever. We needed to make a plan to get out of the house. We dug out the old tent, stocked the camping supplies and headed to the great outdoors.
Growing up, camping involved an RV stocked with everything we could possibly need or encounter in the wilderness of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Let me be clear, we were not backwoods campers. We spent our summers at state parks and— if we were lucky — a Jellystone campground (I could create a whole post on the magical experience of camping in a “Yogi Bear” campground in the early 1990s). When we decided to start our camping adventures in the Pacific Northwest, we took baby-steps. Our first camping trip took us to Willapa Bay, a KOA (Kampgrounds of America) campground in the “Oyster Capital of the World”. We spent the weekend walking along the beach, drinking Rainiers and grilling clams and oysters. Living in a city like Chicago we missed being able to easily get outdoors. Nature would be the cure for our confinement.
From that weekend through Labor Day weekend, we had a camping trip planned every two weeks. We visited five national parks— Olympic, Redwoods, Crater Lake, North Cascades, and Mount Rainier. For my birthday, we celebrated by a enjoying socially distanced wine tasting in the Willamette Valley. We bought a telescope, searched for planets and studied the craters of the moon. I learned how to cook Cornish game hens and coq au vin over an open fire. I got dive-bombed by a bald eagle, discovered the delightful banana slug and spotted a grey whale off the coast of California. We grounded ourselves in the presence of nature. Together, we worked through our frustrations over the pandemic response, our anguish over the lives of Black men and women lost to police violence, and anger at the leadership of our country. The retreat into the wild made us confront our mortality in a larger world and a history outside of ourselves. It was liberating.
We have not suffered the loss of family members or friends, we found jobs that we love, and we have remained healthy throughout the pandemic. When all is said and done, I have to say we are lucky ones. I am glad to see the 2020 go as we welcome a new year, but I can’t help but think about what we will take with us as December 31st becomes January 1st. We are still fighting a war against a virus and the cult of denial of its existence. Families continue to grieve the loss of loved ones. With the pandemic, comes the economic fallout of a failed government response and lack of real support for those facing financial hardships. What good can be found in these experiences?
I am taking with me an appreciation for the life I have made for myself. I am recognizing the big risks I took this year, to bring me to this magical place. I am taking with me my love of nature, sense of adventure, and connection to the earth. I am taking with me understanding that the land I occupy was taken from someone else, and it is a privilege that I am allowed to tread upon it. I am taking with me the fire of activism and advocacy that has been only a burning ember until now. I am taking with me a renewed connection to a community to which I am both an insider and outsider. My social circle is smaller and life is much quieter but I am beyond content. I look forward, with anticipation and without fear for what the new year will bring.
