My recovery plan
The pandemic grounded their long-distance marriage. Now what?
My friends Dave Beattie and Alicia Lee measured their marriage in playlists of bands they’d seen together. Dave explains what happened when the concerts were all cancelled and they couldn’t be together. It’s OK. He has a plan.
by Dave Beattie
Alicia is one of my sister’s best friends. One night in high school, she snuck downstairs and kissed me outside my basement bedroom with the pull string from the bare bulb light awkwardly hanging between us. For a few months after, whenever she spent the night at our house she would sneak down to my room, with my sister’s blessing, and we would make out. It was hot. During the day we were friends and kind to each other. We did not really date, we did not really break up, and were gentle with each other’s hearts. Decades later, when we reconnected, kissing her made me realize that was the kiss I had been seeking since I was 17 years old.
Now we have a long-distance marriage. Alicia lives in Hopkinton, Massachusetts, and I live in Fernandina Beach, Florida. I used to look at “Find My Friend” to see where she was and feel connected. The distance was theoretical, because the reality she was a two-hour-long flight away, and I knew I only ever had to wait a few days until the next trip. Right now, she is 1,108 miles away, which, according to Google Maps, is 16 hours, 45 minutes of driving. Today I prefer Apple Maps, which says it is only 1,105 miles away and 15 hours, 58 minutes. Because of COVID, though, I am not flying or driving up to Boston again this week to see her.
When we got married in 2017, we knew we would not live in the same place at least until our youngest kid went to college in 2025. When we tell people about our relationship, some people (maybe most) struggle to envision a long-distance marriage. We made the choice that feeling loved every day was more important than being in the same place every day. Our long-distance relationship, then marriage, is based on accepting that we had to be honest, direct, blunt in the moment, while treating each other’s heart with kindness. I have never felt more loved and supported.
In normal times, we had been able to maintain a connected partnership despite the miles. We have four kids between us from our prior marriages, two in Hopkinton and two in Fernandina Beach, which is why we have two houses. We both have former spouses invested in raising our kids. We have a similar schedule with our kids. We both travel for work and have always been able to work remote part of the time.
Before all this, our marriage never felt like a burden. One of us flew to see the other whenever we could, we would work in the same city, vacation with our kids, or meet somewhere to connect with our scattered, eclectic, loving tribe of friends and family. We always had airline tickets booked and concerts on the calendar as a talisman point on the compass to keep us headed into the future together. We made playlist of the bands we see each year to have a shared sound track wherever we are (2019 Bands We’ve Seen has 23 bands, three of them we saw twice). We sometimes bought two pieces of art from local artists when we traveled so there are companion pieces of art in each of our houses.
Now the world we took for granted is gone. Travel has screeched to a halt. First, we postponed meeting in New York when I was there for work in early March. Then I thought of flying up to Boston, but by mid -March, flying was off the table. We thought of driving those 16 hours, non-stop, but that was crossed off the list by late March because of travel restrictions. Concerts we had tickets for were canceled, our May vacation with our kids was canceled. Some might think a long-distance relationship is prefect for the time of isolation. It is not, because our relationship is really based on the ease of travel, not the ease of modern communications.
We came to focus on our commitment to being available to our kids. Which means we are in different places, pining for each other and dreaming of catching up over wine, of laughing at the absurdity of the world while curled on the same couch, of complaining in hushed, guilty tones about our kids driving us insane, and being impressed as we eavesdrop on the other’s conference call.
Our country’s collective COVID experience is forcing us all to reflect on what is important, what is a distraction, what is simply a waste of time, and what is just habit. People ask if it is hard not seeing each other. I don’t like it, but there is a comfort in the knowledge that I prefer missing Alicia rather than not caring that we are apart. I try to appreciate the things we do have in our relationship, rather being angry at what we do not. But damn, I miss kissing her.
So far, 2020 has not been what I envisioned. There are 19 bands on our canceled concert playlist, while JJ Grey is the only band in our playlist 2020 Bands We’ve Seen (the picture below is from that show at 12:01 am 1/1/2020, we were so naïve back then). While we don’t know when or what normal will be in the future, we need to take the steps we can to live our life on our terms.
I started my personal recovery plan on Easter Sunday by booking a flight up to Boston in September for Alicia’s birthday (thank you JetBlue for still having direct flights between JAX and BOS). I hope to see her before then, but that is on the calendar.
I am sending over-priced flowers with sappy cards, to try to brighten her day.
We have a playlist of the bands we have missed so far in Concerts Canceled in 2020, so we can have a shared soundtrack.
Skyler, my 16 year-old daughter, painted two pictures for us (still not sure whether it was out of love or boredom), one for each of our houses. I have Alicia’s to hand deliver to Massachusetts. The other is in Florida, waiting like other art there, to be reunited with its partner in the future.
We all have to have a recovery plan after this, by choosing what we want to change, and what we want to keep the same. The day-to-day momentum of life has been broken, and what comes next can be a conscious choice. Whatever your recovery plan is, don’t wait until things are “back to normal.” We need to start building our own new normal. Mine is less travel, but more connection; fewer concerts, but more playlists; less dining out, but more nesting. Most of all, less lamenting about what I don’t have, but more appreciation of what I do. I love you Alicia.
Dave Beattie – loves data, analytics and a quantifiable world and works as Chief of Data and Analytics at Kivvit, an award-wining public affairs firm. When he can, he lives in both Fernandina Beach FL, and Hopkinton MA, with his wife Alicia and their four children.
RIP
I would like to pay respect to those we lose along the way. If there is someone you would like to be remembered in future newsletters, please post links to their obituaries in the comments section or email me. Thank you.
How we’re getting through this
Listening to Tim Ferris.
Begging Coach Taylor to do this.
Baking DoubleTree hotel cookies.
Thinking ill of 23% of my countrymen.
Making the most of your telemedicine appointment.
Supporting people of color … with a different T-shirt.
Complying more often with governors we agree with.
Keeping the spirit of Richard Overton alive … on a T-shirt.
Not trying to replicate happy hours (or is that happys hour?)
Making sure CSR is aligned with what your company really does.
Finding new ways to perform acts of “hesed,” or “lovingkindness.”
Not joining the 5% of Americans who attended religious ceremonies last weekend.
What I’m reading
Glen Weldon’s valentine of a wrap up of Schitt’s Creek.
Michael Ventura’s archives at the Austin Chronicle.
Sarah Bird’s back catalogue at Texas Monthly.
Bryan Burrough’s archives at Vanity Fair.
Pam Colloff’s bylines at Texas Monthly.
And all of them would be grateful to have written this profile of Weird Al.
Got some reading suggestions? Post them in the comments section, and I might include them in the next newsletter. Have a book to promote? Let me know in the comments or email me.
What I’m watching
Evan Smith’s interview with Jeff Tweedy about Wilco’s Ode to Joy is quite good.
Saturday Night Live’s remote episode was a remarkable time capsule, but for my money the “Zoom Call” sketch killed.
Got suggestions? Post them in the comments section, and I might include them in the next newsletter.
What I’m listening to
Went into a Wilco hole. Revisited Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, which is a mood. Chatted with E.S. about how A Ghost is Born got me through a divorce, and he offered that Ode to Joy stands up there with them. That’s a whole afternoon for you there.
Got suggestions? Post them in the comments section, and I might include them in the next newsletter.
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