Wander Wisely

If you had to describe your ideal life, what would it look like?

The afternoon Tuscany sun warmed the piazza as a sparrow hopped over to our sidewalk table. He looked at me hopefully and I tossed him a piece of my pizza crust. His mannerisms, rather startlingly, brought to mind a face and voice from 50 years ago.

Suzie Baker. 

Even Suzie would be hard pressed to put into words the events of the last week.

Suzie was in my fourth-grade class and she always reminded me of a bright little bird; a finch or a sparrow, perhaps. She had frizzy hair, round wire-frame glasses, and eyes that radiated curiosity and cheerfulness. She had something to say about everything. Once, in exasperation, Mrs Hopkins sighed and asked her why she talked so much. 

Suzie looked puzzled. “Because I have a lot to say, and very little time to say it.” She looked around at the class. Duh.

To celebrate our 40th anniversary, Sue and I  this week took a Mediterranean cruise. After four decades, there’s a lot more in the rearview mirror than there is through the windshield. It tends to prompt a lot of reflection and introspection. Were our lives well lived? Did our kids turn OK? Is our relationship still strong?

In 1986, we took a cruise for our honeymoon. The ship was old, the cabin was tiny with no window, and the ports of call so-so. But who cared. There were other things on our minds. 

We shared a table with another honeymoon couple, Bear and Megan. When they appeared for dinner after a day on the beach in St. Croix, we did a double take. Bear was redder than the lobster at the adjacent table and Megan was sporting the Bo Darek cornfield hair braids that were popular at the time.

They were from Albany, NY, and very engaging. We hit it off right away and our dinnertime discussions became remarkably candid. Did we want kids? Were they both going to work? What grade was Sue going to teach? We were all at the very beginning of the board game Life where all players must STOP: GET MARRIED. A pink piece and a blue piece in a little plastic car, and a plunge into the great unknown.

We had a lot of time this week to do a deep dive with no distractions. Sitting alone on deck chairs on the stern, watching the wake in the blue Mediterranean, sipping our umbrella drinks…it was like turning the clock back, only it wasn’t the pre-game pep talk, it was the post-game locker room debrief.

We laughed about how hopelessly naive we were back then. How we thought everything would just sort of work itself out. Our plans for having kids, when to start, how far apart to space them…airily agreed upon, as if it were all up to us.

Except for a grandparent or two, we were untouched by death, loss, grief. I was just starting my career and everything was new, fresh. Every little win was a cause for celebration.

We pored over magazines with house floor plans, dreaming of grand staircases and master bedrooms with fireplaces. We both drove junkers and a dinner at Red Lobster was an extravagance.

Life happened. Not as we planned, not as we expected, but still…amazing. We never did get the master bedroom fireplace, the kids came at divinely appointed times, and my job moved me far from Florida. But we found joy and contentment along the way.

We marveled at how quickly the years had passed. I’ve always sensed the brevity of our years and have tried to live intentionally; perhaps that’s why I take so many photographs. But so many good times with family and friends—and special moments known only to us—are now distant points in our wake.

Unlike our honeymoon cruise, most of the passengers on this trip were elderly. We walked by the crowded photography gallery and it was a reverse of Dead Poet’s Society where young guys stared at sepia photos of now-old alumni; here, it was old people looking at themselves and still seeing their 20-year old selves beneath the wrinkles and jewelry.

Jimmy Buffett’s song “Lovely Cruise” has some lyrics that neatly sum up the past week:

These moments we’re left with, may you always remember
These moments are shared by few
There’s wind in our hair and there’s water in our shoes
Honey, it’s been a lovely cruise

I wondered this week whatever happened to Bear and Megan. If they’re still around, how their lives turned out, if at least some of their dreams came true.

I can’t speak for them, but after a week of looking back, I’m filled with a profound sense of gratitude. Satisfaction for a life well lived, and love for a woman who has grown more gracious and beautiful with each passing year, who’s stuck with me through thick and thin. Three amazing kids. I see now the plan.

Suzie Baker would be at a loss for words.

But it’s been a lovely cruise, indeed.

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Images by Meta AI and author