My first post

I wrote a holiday letter this past year, but never got around to sending it. On many levels, it seems like an appropriate way to start this blog since it explains why I'm doing this and what I've been doing over the past year. So here goes (I've edited to remove names and identifying references; my partner is D, I'm J):

(originally written 12/12/05)

I haven’t written a holiday letter before and I was tempted to let yet another year go by without doing one, but the events of the last week have reminded me how important it is that we reach out to our friends and family. While this is a rather impersonal way of doing that, I want to reassure you that each and everyone one of you is in my thoughts as I write this. I hope that the coming year will bring more visits, more phone calls and more emails between all of us.

While this year has been a mixed one, as life often is, right now it feels like a year of grief. Just after Thanksgiving of last year, D's father was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. He died, unexpectedly quickly, a week before last Christmas. Our planned trip to east to visit my family was put on hold, and we spent a rather somber holiday in California (although D's family, in their never-ending attempts at levity, managed to bring out more than a few smiles on everyone’s faces).

In January, I found out that the next stop on our world tour would be Utah, where I would work as an epidemiologist for two years. As usual, D continues to follow me around, despite my constant protests that the next move will be his choice.

Also in January, D returned to Georgia for a week to work with the School of the America’s Watch prisoners of conscience. The strength and hope of those who are willing to face even prison in their struggle to close down the School of Assassins is a constant source inspiration for those of us committed to social justice.

In February, it rapidly became evident that D’s mom needed a degree of support that we couldn’t provide from San Diego. Thankfully, J’s residency was incredibly supportive and flexible, and in March we gave up our apartment in southern California and moved into the second floor bedroom in D’s childhood home. J spent the subsequent months flying between Atlanta, Sacramento, San Diego and various other places as she finished up her residency and master’s thesis.

In June, we took a much needed vacation and spent a week in Anchorage. J was overwhelmed with the beauty of Alaska, and D enjoyed introducing her to the city and people he had so enjoyed.

The end of June brought yet another transition, as our stuff was again packed up (this time by mover’s paid by J's job). J spent the month of July in Atlanta meeting hernew colleagues and exploring Atlanta restaurants on a government per diem. D was able to join her for most of the month and got wonderfully familiar with Atlanta traffic.

At the end of July, the move to Salt Lake was finally made. We stayed in a three-bedroom apartment with an air mattress and cooking utensils from the thrift store as we tried to decide if we wanted to buy a house. August flew by, and before we knew it, J was on the way to New Orleans. She spent 5 weeks there working to re-establish public health services. All in all, it was a rather depressing, frustrating and difficult experience, although lasting friendships were created and she will always treasure the people she met there.

In early October, we received the news that D’s grandfather had passed away. The family met, yet again, for a memorial service in California.

In November, we bought a house built in 1912, on the wrong side of the tracks in Salt Lake, and have had the wonderful experience of dealing with all the poor workmanship that houses of that era have had done to them. The two weeks we thought it would take to get the house ready to move in to has turned into two months and counting.

Thanksgiving was spent with D’s best friend A in Salt Lake scraping paint and removing wallpaper. We did manage to pull together a Thanksgiving dinner in about two hours, but were too tired to really enjoy it. It was a wonderful time spent with A, but we would really love to be done with the house.

December brought another terrible blow to the year. J’s best friend, G, and her husband, F, died when their sailboat capsized on Lake Ponchartrain,--in some strange way, more victims of Katrina’s devastation. D happened to be in New Orleans shortly after the accident and was able to help their families pack up the house and sort their belongings. We regret, more than we can possibly express, all the unplanned trips, missed phone calls and unmade memories.

Dear friends and family, the deaths we have experienced this year are a horrible reminder that life is too short and too often we have missed opportunities to express our love, thanks and appreciation for those around us. We miss you all and hope that the coming year will give us many more opportunities to do just that.

Love,

J & D

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I miss my friend more than I can possibly express. Sadly, the past two years were a series of 2 minute phone calls, 5 line emails and a single overnight visit. One or the other would always be saying or writing, 'I'm really busy right now. I'll call you back tomorrow,' or 'Life is crazy. I promise a longer email in a few days.' And a few months would go by before the other called or wrote back.

We always assumed that there would be plenty of time to make up for those missed moments. I think most of us assume that. Well, now the only conversations I have with her are in my head or in an email that just gets saved to my 'draft mail' folder.

Since December, I've been trying to stay in better touch with all those I care about, and while I'm doing better than before, it is not nearly as much as I would like. Thus, the blog. I hope this serves as a way for us to stay in better touch and more aware of eachother's lives. I hope it does not take the place of more personal emails, but rather augment them.

On some level, this is a rather depressing way to start a new blog, but perhaps a better way to think about it is as a beginning.

Love,
J